“Didn’t you tell me that people with good information often hang out in places we’d never think about visiting?”
“You realize The Brass Ring is the same place where Tina Barnes worked? You remember, the woman whose body Claire saw in Golden Gate Park.”
Cindy almost looked excited. “You think this could be related?”
“We’re going to find out pretty soon. If so, it’s the first connection we’ve made between these cases.”
Cindy whipped through the city traffic as she filled me in on what she’d done so far and how she’d figured out the phone number the tipster had provided went to a topless bar.
I said, “Seems a real crapshoot to try and catch this tipster atthis time of day. I bet it doesn’t get busy until much later in the evening. I doubt even a third of their staff is working now.”
We found the club on a corner, not far from the Tenderloin. The outside of the building wasn’t anything special. No big placards or murals of naked women. They probably wanted to stay well away from breaking city regulations about obscene material in public. Overall, the building wasn’t in bad shape. The adjoining parking lot was newly repaved with two handicap spots by the main entrance at the side of the building. Someone was making enough money for renovations.
We pulled into the big parking lot but couldn’t find any available spaces. Not bad for the early afternoon on a weekday.
I looked at Cindy and said, “I guess I’ll keep my ideas to myself for a little while.”
“Apparently this is exactly the time of day when everyone comes to a club like this.”
“I guess any time is a good time to see naked women if that’s your priority.”
CHAPTER40
I STOPPED CINDYas we walked toward the entrance. “Remember, this is the same place where Tina Barnes worked. This Nicole tipster and Tina’s murder could be completely unrelated. But let’s be careful.”
Cindy took a moment, like she was just trying to decide what to do. She said, “I don’t want to screw up a homicide investigation.”
“What a very un-reporter-like thing to say,” I teased her. “But I’m on board with us talking to this witness.”
We opened the door and were instantly smacked by a wave of loud music. It took me a few seconds to recognize the song as Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” When the door closed behind us, I was shocked at how dark the inside of the club was. I followed along a wall that had shag carpet plastered to it.
There was no bouncer and no one checking IDs at the door. Behind the bar, a young woman working in a bikini glanced up but virtually ignored us. I looked toward the main stage. Somehow a woman had managed to find a way to dance to Nirvana. She definitely had the attention of the thirty or so patrons. I noticed atleast four women in the crowd. The club had an additional five people sitting on stools.
Cindy marched along the bar. I followed just to keep the possibility of a bar fight down. When she was adjacent to the bartender, Cindy spoke in a very loud voice to be heard over the music. “Is Allison Weaver working today?”
The young woman behind the bar cocked her head and said, “Who?”
Cindy shouted, “Allison Weaver!”
Then the bartender nodded and said, “Oh, Allie. Yeah, she’s in the back office.” She pointed to the end of the bar and made a motion that we should turn left.
We found the little hallway that led back to a door with a sign:OFFICE/NO PATRONS ALLOWED. Cindy rapped on the door, but we had no way of knowing if she could be heard over the music. Cindy knocked a little harder.
When there was still no reply, I reached past Cindy and tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. We stepped into a hallway with a series of open office doors. Inside the first office, a woman wearing a colorful, long-sleeved blouse looked up from a desk.
She took off her glasses and said, “You’re not supposed to be back here.” It wasn’t nasty; it was just a comment. I looked more closely at her and realized she was really young, possibly still in her teens.
Cindy said, “We’re looking for Allison Weaver.”
“I’m Allie. Who are you guys?”
We both introduced ourselves, and I showed Allie my badge and official ID. We told her we were here concerning her tip about Nicole Snaff. She didn’t seem surprised or upset. We took seats in front of her desk.
The first question I asked was about her work. “What’s your role here? You seem young to be a manager.”
“No, I do all the advertisement and marketing.”
“Do you have a background in marketing?”
