“Please stay,” said Milo.
“I have to go to the little girls’ room.” She reached down for her purse. Milo had placed his foot over the strap.
“Please,” she said.
Conversation at neighboring tables had died. A waiter came over. A glance from Milo made him retreat, but seconds later one of the white-jacketed maitre d’s arrived.
“Officer,” he said, sidling up to Milo and managing to spit out the word while smiling wider than his lips had been built for. “You are a police officer?”
“And here I thought I was being subtle.”
“Please, sir, this isn’t the place and time.”
Gretchen twirled the crayfish. The black woman hung her head.”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 so sorry. I’ll have a fresh batch prepared right now—”
“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.”