“When were you going to share that with me?”
“Now. And while we’re crossing our t’s.” He held up three fingers. “One, no one in the sex business has heard of the Superior Gentlemen. Two, Noah never made a move on anyone at his gym. Not, at least, that management got wind of. And three, none of my contacts in the LGBTQ community has ever heard of Noah Asher.” He lowered his hand. “Which means we still don’t know why the fuck a guy who called himself a pickup artist was wearing a dress.”
“Progress by elimination?”
“What this job is.”
“We know almost as little as we did at the start of all this.” I zipped my coat. “Who did Noah betray? One of his so-called loser geek friends?”
“Why don’t I have a chat with his students? Rivero and Markey. See if I can get a few names. And I’ll get someone on the squad to check out their alibis.” Bandoni absently scratched his cheek. “As for the Superior Gentlemen, our friend Riley Lynch should be able to shed some light. I want you to pull up his DMV data. And see if he’s got a record. Especially for assault or battery. Or stalking. We’ll have a chat with him tonight after our date with the punks. If we’re lucky, we’ll get him out of bed. I like witnesses when they’re confused.”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
We started down the sidewalk. Around us, end-of-day workers streamed toward parking lots and garages, heels swapped for sneakers, briefcases and purses tucked close.
“What’d you make of Ami-with-an-i?” Bandoni said.
“Our Milkshake Lady. Maybe now we’ll be able to get an ID.”
“Let me see the drawing again.”
I pulled out the sketch of the Milkshake Lady and passed it over.
Bandoni stopped walking and pointed at the woman in the background. The one with the mop. “Noah drew this other woman for a reason. Like maybe these women are . . . I dunno.” His frown carved chasms in his face. “Before-and-after Ami? From downtrodden janitor to superhero?”
“Or maybe current-and-future Ami.” I filled Bandoni in on my conversation with the women at Top-A Cleaning. “I got the sense they knew her. But they weren’t going to share. If Ami works at Top-A and is worried about losing her temporary status, maybe they’re protecting her.”
“You told them she’d been seen near the train?”
“And showed them the Lady of Guadalupe necklace. If I had to make a guess, I’d say they’re worried. But not enough to talk.”
We reached an intersection, and Bandoni punched the button for the light. “Closing ranks.”
“They’re scared. Can’t blame them. Anyway, if Ami works for Top-A, it would explain how she and Noah met. The office manager said Noah used their cleaning service from November to February. She wouldn’t say who did the actual cleaning.”
Bandoni rolled his eyes. “Warrant?”
“I’ll get one.”
The light changed. Tires squealed as drivers conceded to the law and lurched to a stop. We entered the crosswalk.
Bandoni said, “Let’s run down the timeline. Last November, Noah and some guy decide to form a pickup group.”
“At the same time, Noah signs up with Top-A.”
Bandoni glared at an SUV nosing into the intersection. “Probably wants his house looking nice for all those babes he’ll be bringing home.”
“Noah invites Riley Lynch and a couple of other guys into the group.”
“Including Craze.”
In front of us, a woman pushing a baby carriage slowed as her leashed Pomeranian caught a glimpse of Clyde and spun around.
“Daisy!” the woman said sharply, yanking on the leash.
The dog began barking. The woman swore. I slowed and maneuvered toward the right of the woman so that I was between Daisy and Clyde.
The crosswalk sign switched from green to red. At the same time, a coolness brushed my neck. The sense of being watched. I raised my eyes. At the corner, on the other side of the intersection, a dark-blue van with a new-looking heavy-duty steel grill bolted to the front pulled to the curb.
“Hey, Bandoni,” I said. “That—”
Daisy stopped barking and lunged toward Clyde. Clyde broke with his dignity long enough to release a single deep woof that froze Daisy in her tracks. The woman yanked on the Pomeranian’s leash and shot me a glare as she race-walked toward the curb, dragging Daisy.
“What?” Bandoni said as the light changed, and we hurried onto the sidewalk.
The van had screeched around the corner, heading south. I caught a flash of brake lights, and then the van was swallowed by traffic.
“What is it, Parnell?”
“Third time I’ve seen that van,” I said. “I think.”
“The one with the T. rex–size bull bar? I can see why you’d be unsure.”
“The grill looked new. You happen to catch the plate?”
“In this light?”
I watched the receding blips of red. “Right.”
“Something you’re worried about, Parnell? Want to issue a BOLO?”
I hesitated, then shook my head. There were thousands of blue cargo vans in metro Denver. And probably hundreds with bull bars. I started walking. “Where were we on our timeline?”
Bandoni held on to his puzzled look for a moment, then shrugged. “The Superior Gentlemen were forming their evil lair.”
“Right. If Ami was cleaning Noah’s house, she would have noticed his art right away. Let’s figure they bond over their shared interest in comics. She tells him about the plight of immigrants, and Noah has an awakening. His art changes, according to the owner of the comics store. He begins interviewing gutter punks, looking for a social angle for his art. And teaching Ami to draw. Which maybe pisses off any of his less-liberal comics friends.”
“As in a fatal piss-off?”
“Maybe.”
“Then he drops the cleaning service once he starts cleaning the cobwebs with the womb broom.”
I tossed him a glare. “You make that up just now?”
“Nah, it ain’t original.” He looked disappointed. “How about we just say when he starts plunging the porcelain?”
I massaged my forehead. Bandoni didn’t go away. I said, “He drops out of the Superior
