“For what?” said Milo.
“Sir,” said White Jacket. “People are trying to enjoy their food. This is a distraction.”
Milo spied a free chair at a neighboring table, pulled it over, sat down. “How’s this for blending in?”
“Really, Officer.”
“Fuck it, Damien,” said Gretchen. “Leave him alone, I know him.”
Damien stared at her. “You’re sure, Gretch?”
“Yeah, yeah.” She waved the crayfish. “Tell Joel to make it spicier next time.”
“Oh.” Damien’s acrobatic lips fluttered. “It’s too bland?”
“If you’ve got taste buds.”
“Oh, no – I’ll bring you some extra sauce, Gretch-”
“No,” said Gretchen. “That won’t help, too late. It has to be cooked into the meat.”
“Really, Gretch-”
“No, Damien.”
Damien simpered. “I am
“Don’t bother. Not hungry.”
“I feel terrible,” said Damien.
“Don’t,” said Gretchen, flicking the crayfish’s tail. “Just do better next time.”
“Sure. Of course. Certainly.” To the black woman: “Is yours okay?”
“Perfect.” Glum tone. “I’m going to the little girls’ room.” She stood. Six feet tall in flats, sleek as a panther. Looking down at her purse, she left it there, edged past me, disappeared.
Damien said, “Really, Gretch, I can get you another plate in no time.”
“I’m fine,” said Gretchen, blowing a kiss at him. “Go away.”
When he departed she looked at me. “Sit. Take Ingrid’s chair, she’ll be gone awhile. Bladder infection. I tell her to drink cranberry juice, but she hates it.”
“Old friend?” said Milo.
“New friend.”
“Let’s talk about Lauren Teague. Someone shot her and dumped her in an alley.”
Gretchen’s flat expression maintained. She put the crayfish down. “How terrible. I thought she was too smart for that.”
“Too smart for what?”
“Going into business without me.”
“You think that’s what killed her?”
Off came the sunglasses. The brown eyes were piercing and focused; childhood learning difficulties seemed remote, and I wondered how many of the rumors about her were true.
“So do you,” she said. “That’s why you’re here.”
“Were you and she in touch?”
Gretchen shook her head. “After I retired, I cut all ties to the staff.”
“How long has it been since you saw Lauren?”
Gretchen tried to pry something from between her teeth. Stubby nails weren’t up to the task. She removed the toothpick from a crayfish and began probing. “She resigned before I retired.”
“How long before?”
“Maybe a year.”
“Why?” said Milo.
“She never said.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“Why should I?” said Gretchen. “It wasn’t as if there was a personnel shortage.”
“Any idea why she quit?”
“It could’ve been anything.”
“You never discussed it.”
“Nope. She e-mailed me, I e-mailed back.”
“She was into computers,” said Milo.
Gretchen laughed.
Milo said, “What’s funny?”
“That’s like asking if she was into refrigerators.” She reskewered the crayfish.
“Any theories?” said Milo. “About why she quit?”
“Nope.”
“What else do you remember about Lauren?”
“Great body, knew how to do makeup, no need for surgery. Some clients don’t like bionics.”
“Think she might’ve picked up a steady?” said Milo.
“Anything’s possible.”
“Did you know she’d gone back to school?”
“Really,” said Gretchen. “How self-improving.” She folded her hands in her lap.
“When she was working for you, did she complain of problematic clients?”
“Nope.”
“No problems at all?”
“She was good with people. I was sorry to see her go.”
“Did she have any particular specialties?”
“Other than being gorgeous and smart and polite?”
“No kinks?”
Gretchen smiled. “Kinks?”
“Anything out of the ordinary.”
Gretchen laughed. “How could I even begin to answer that.”
“How about yes or no, and if it’s yes, some details?”
Gretchen sat back and crossed her legs. Her back was against the wall, and she seemed to enjoy the support. “The truth is, people are depressingly ordinary.”
“Guys were willing to pay big-time for ordinary?”
“Guys were willing to pay to have it on their terms.”
“So Lauren had no specialties?”
Shrug.
“What about special clients? Guys who requested her specifically?”
Gretchen shook her head. Picked up a crayfish and stared at the crustacean. “Look at those eyes. It’s as if he knows.”
“Knows what?”
“That he’s dead.”
Milo said, “Who requested Lauren?”
“Nothing comes to mind.”
Milo edged his chair closer to her. From the way he talked into her ear and her sudden, warm smile, they might’ve been lovers.
“Help me out here,” he said. “We’re talking murder.”
“I can help if you want to buy a dress.” She drew her head back and looked him up and down. “I don’t think you’d like our styles.”
Milo stayed close to her. “Someone tied Lauren up and shot her in the back of the head and left her like garbage in a Dumpster. Give me a name. Anyone who had a thing for Lauren.”
Gretchen touched his tie, lifted it, and kissed the tip. “Nice syntho. Chez Sears? Tar-
“What about girls she worked with? Friends on the staff?”
“Far as I recall, she went it alone.”
“What about Michelle?”
“Michelle,” said Gretchen. “As in…?”
