Rick studied him: the twitch of his jaw, the gleam on his rings.Beggar. That word echoed. It explained a lot—Ash’s walls, his deflections, the way he turned pain into power like alchemy. And yet… someonehadbeen murdered. Five someones. “I don’t suppose you know what time he left?”
“I’m not in the habit of babysitting my employees, Detective. Between their performances, they’re free to do as they please.”
“We’re just trying to confirm his movements,” Frank said.
“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help,” Vinny said with a shrug so well-practiced it might have been part of the night’s choreography.
Rick noted the tremor in his hands as he tapped ash into the tray. The heartbeat behind the bluster hammering too fast for a man supposedly so at ease. “We’re gonna need to see any surveillance footage you have from last night,” Rick said.
Vinny barked a short laugh. “Yeah, sure. If it helps.” He jerked a thumb toward a sleek filing cabinet. “Key’s in there. Cameras on the main floor and entrance only. Nothing in the private rooms or back exits.” His smirk sharpened. “Gotta respect the clientele’s privacy, y’know?”
Rick let that pass without comment. He could already guess how much ‘privacy’ was worth around here.
Frank shifted closer, the movement subtle. “You know who Mr. Hunter hangs around with? Friends? Enemies?”
Vinny spread his hands. “Kid’s a loner. Comes in, does his job, goes home. Tess is probably the closest he’s got to a friend around here. Others might resent him ‘cause he pulls all the big spenders, but enemies? Nah. None of my boys got that in ‘em.”
Rick filed it away, but didn’t buy it clean. People never thought devils looked like devils until the horns tore through. He leaned in, just a little. Enough to catch the way Vinny’s sweat thickened. Enough to make his mustache twitch. “You notice anyone unusual last night?” he asked. “New faces? Somebody taking a bit too much interest in your dancers?”
Vinny stubbed out the cigar with a little too much force. “It’s a strip club, pal. Every face is unusual. Tall one, short one, drunk one. Take your pick.”
The lazy jazz slithered along the walls like smoke.
Rick exhaled slowly, filtering Vinny’s words the way he’d learned to filter blood from bathwater at a crime scene. Everything said, everything left unsaid. The man wascooperating, sure. But only because it cost him nothing. No tells beyond the sweat and the racing heart—a general fear of cops, not a specific one.
Rick drifted toward the filing cabinet, casual. “We’ll take those tapes off your hands.” He caught the flicker of relief that Vinny couldn’t quite hide.
“No problem,” Vinny said, pushing off the chair and striding toward Rick, a shrub next to a sequoia tree. He unlocked the drawer and pulled out two battered thumb drives. “All yours.”
Rick slipped the drives into an evidence bag and nodded.
As Frank logged the evidence into a notebook, Vinny leaned against his desk, feigning nonchalance. “Look,” he said, voice low, “you ask me, this whole thing’s a waste of time. Ash just got caught up in the wrong place, wrong time. Shit happens all the time in this city. I’m sure you fellas know that.”
Rick studied him through half-lidded eyes. Vinny didn’t give a damn if the kid was innocent or guilty. To him, he wasn’t a person. Just merchandise. Asset he wanted back. “Thanks for your cooperation, Mr. Rossi,” he said. “We’ll need to speak with everyone who was on shift last night—dancers, waitstaff, the whole crew. I’d appreciate it if you could jot down their names.”
“Certainly,” Vinny said stiffly, circling behind his desk. He pulled open a drawer, retrieved a heavy silver pen, and began scrawling a list on a sheet of notepaper. When he was done, he tore the page free with a crisp rip and handed it over.
Rick took it with a nod. “Much obliged.”
“We’ll be in touch if we have more questions,” Frank added.
Vinny flashed another oily smile, already reaching for a fresh cigar. “Sure thing, Detective. Anytime.”
Rick and Frank let themselves out. Tito and Nino stood in the same place, waiting, arms folded like granite sentries. Rick didn’t bother asking if they’d seen anything last night. Guys like that could watch a man get dismembered and still say theyhadn’t noticed a thing. The twins slipped into the office as the detectives passed, the door swinging shut behind them, sealing in the smoke, the stink of perspiration and fear, leaving only the faint wail of jazz drifting up from downstairs, mournful as a warning.
In the stairwell, Frank muttered, “That one’s a real piece of work.”
Rick grunted, slipping the evidence bag into his coat. No real leads. Just the usual swamp of liars and parasites, covering their asses and smiling through their teeth. He caught a last whiff of Vinny’s sweat trailing them down the stairs and knew the real story was still waiting to crawl out.
(1:23 p.m.)
They emerged into the humid afternoon, its low sky a flat sheet of pewter pressing on the jagged rooftops. The world outside seemed bleached and raw after the murky depths of the Eclipse, the gauzy light diffused through layers of clouds and smog into a grimy haze. The air carried the smell of rain yet to come, thick with the sour tang of old bricks and car exhaust that clung to every exposed surface.
Rick fished a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his coat and thumbed one out with the ease of a bad habit long worn into his grain. The match flared with a dry rasp. He drew in a long drag, letting the smoke burn in his lungs. Out of reflex, he almost offered one to Frank, then remembered better. So he shoved his hands deep into his pockets, collar turned up against the wet chill, and said, “Let’s go over the crime scene one more time before we head back.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Frank said, walking beside him.
The murder site was just a street away, tucked between the sagging brick bones of two derelict buildings, a dead-end cutinto the city’s throat. They passed beneath a battered streetlamp where the yellow police tape fluttered in the stale breeze, a uniformed officer stationed dutifully next to it, cap pulled low over his forehead. His eyes flicked up as Rick and Frank flashed their badges. A perfunctory nod, then he stepped aside to let them through.
