'You remember her?' I said.
'The dead girl? Sure,' Mike said. 'I mean, she wasn't so special to remember when she came in, but then, you know, she gets killed, and everybody's talking about it and it's on the news and you go over it in your head . . . a lot.'
'You remember when she arrived here?'
'I do,' Mike said. 'I was working early evening that week, and she came in a brand-new bright red Caddy. I mean, I'da remembered the car even if nothing happened. Leather interior, all the bells and whistles. Looked like it had about ten miles on it.'
'She driving?' I said.
'No, a guy was driving. He let her off, and she went in the hotel, and he drove away.'
'Remember the guy?'
Mike shrugged.
'Not much,' he said. 'Suburban-looking guy. Maybe fifty. I was mostly checking out the ride.'
'Ever see her again?'
'I was off duty when the EMTs brought her out,' Mike said. 'But I hung around, so technically, I guess yes. But she was covered.'
'How 'bout the car or the driver?'
Mike shook his head.
'No.'
'You wouldn't have a number for the car?' I said.
'No, no reason,' he said. 'Maybe if we parked it . . .'
'He didn't come back to pick her up,' I said.
'Not on my shift,' Mike said.
'Thanks for your time,' I said.
'Hope you catch him,' Mike said.
'Hell,' I said, 'I don't even know who I'm after.'
45
WHEN WE WENT IN to visit Buffy and Tom Lopata, Buffy eyed Z silently as she showed us to the living room. She was wearing tight black pants that narrowed to the ankle, black open-toed sandals, and a black polo shirt hanging over the pants. Her arms were pale and very thin. Tom joined us from upstairs, as he had before. I wondered if they ever spent time together.
'My associate,' I said to them, 'Zebulon Sixkill.'
Tom Lopata put out his hand. He was wearing madras shorts, black penny loafers without socks, and a white shirt with a buttondown collar. His shirttails, too, were over his pants.
'Hi,' he said. 'How ya doin. Great to meet you.'
Z shook hands and nodded.
Mrs. Lopata lit a cigarette.
'What the hell kind of name is Sixkill?' she said.
'Cree,' Z said.
'What?' she said.
'Cree,' Z said. 'Indian tribe.'
'You're an Indian?'
Z put up his hand, palm out.
'I come in peace,' he said.
'So why is your name Sixkill?' Buffy said.
'Buffy,' Tom said. 'For crissake.'
She ignored him. She was staring at Z.
'Goes good with Zebulon,' Z said.
'Well, you are a strapping, handsome Indian,' Buffy said.
'Yes,' Z said.
'Could you folks tell me where you were the night Dawn died?' I said.
'My daughter?' Buffy said. 'Is there a new development?'
'No,' I said. 'Not yet. I'm just trying to tie up some loose ends.'
