'Yeah.'
'Would you remember this guy if you saw him again?'
'Why?' Another alarm flash. 'You do got someone?'
'No. Would you remember him if you saw his picture?'
'Yeah, sure.' Flippantly. 'I got a good memory. Put him in a lineup and I'll give you a beaucoup ID, you treat me good.'
'You trying to hustle me, Robert?'
Gabray smiled and shrugged. 'Taking care of biz.'
'Well,' said Milo, 'let's take care of some now.'
We took Gabray across the rear lot, walked through a rubble-filled -ditch on the east side of the building, and got back on the street.
The line at the front door hadn't shrunk much. This time the bouncer noticed as we walked by.
Gabray said, 'Yo, fuckin' King Kong,' under his breath.
Milo said, 'The guy with Ms. Herbert as big as James?'
Gabray laughed. 'No-no way. That's not human. That they got outa the fuckin' zoo.'
Milo pushed him forward, questioning him all the way to the car without extracting anything further.
'Nice wheels,' said Gabray when we stopped at the Seville.
'Get it from impound or something?'
'Hard work, Robert. That old Protestant ethic.'
'I'm Catholic, man. Used to be, anyway. All of that religion shit's bullshit.'
Milo said, 'Shut up, Robert,' and opened the trunk.
He removed the hard-shell case, put Gabray in the rear seat of the car, and got in next to him, leaving the door open for light.
I stood outside and watched him open the case. Inside was a book that said lDENTIKIT. Milo showed Gabray transparencies with facial features drawn on them. Gabray selected some and put them together. When he was finished, a bland-looking Caucasian face gazed up. A face out of a Dick and Jane primer. Someone's dad.
Milo stared at it, fixed it in place, wrote something down; then he had Gabray designate spots on a street map with a yellow marker.
After a few more questions, he got out of the car. Gabray followed.
Despite the warm breeze, the barkeep's bare shoulders were fuzzed with goose bumps.
'Okay?' he said.
'For the time being, Robert. I'm sure I don't have to tell you this, but I'm gonna anyway: Don't change addresses. Stay where I can reach you.'
'No prob.' Gabray started to walk away.
Milo blocked him with a straight-arm. 'Meanwhile, I'm gonna be writing letters. One to your 1:0. saying you worked here without telling him, another to Mr. Fahrizad and his buddies informing them you finked on them and that's why the fire department's closing them down, and a third to the IRS telling them you've been taking cash for God knows how long and not declaring it.'
Gabray bent at the waist as if seized by a cramp. 'Oh, man-' 'Plus a report to the prosecutor on your weed thing, letting him know you were uncooperative and obstructive and a poor risk for plea bargain. I don't like writing letters, Robert. Writing letters makes me grumpy.
