Her words had the effect of a fired gun. She had our complete attention, both of us startled.
“He came in, I guess it was around five, cause it was still early,” she said. “You know, there were some in here drinking beer just like always. But not too many in for dinner yet. He sat right over there.”
She pointed at an empty table beneath a hanging spider plant all the way in back, where there was a painting of a rooster on the white brick wall. As I stared at the table where Danny had eaten last while in this city because of me, I saw him in my mind.
He was alive and helpful with his clean features and shiny long hair, then bloody and muddy on a dark hillside strewn with garbage. My chest hurt, and for a moment, I had to look away. I had to do something else with my eyes.
When I was more composed, I turned to Daigo and said, “He worked for me at the medical examiner’s office. His name was Danny Webster.”
She looked at me a long time, my meaning very clear.
“Uh-oh,” she said in a low voice. “That’s him. Oh sweet Jesus, I can’t believe it. It’s been all over the news, people in here talking about it all night ’cause it’s just down the street.”
“Yes,” I said.
She looked at Marino as if pleading with him. “He was just a boy. Come in here not minding no one, and all he did was eat his sailor sandwich and then someone kills him!
I tell you”-she angrily wiped down the counter–there’s too much meanness. Too damn much! I’m sick of it. You understand me? People just kill like it’s nothing.”
Several diners nearby overheard our conversation, but they continued their own without stares or asides. Marino was in uniform. He clearly was the brass, and that tended to inspire people to mind their own affairs. We waited until Daigo had sufficiently vented her spleen, and we found a table in the quietest corner of the bar.
Then she nodded for a waitress to stop by.
“What you want, sugar?” Daigo asked me.
I did not think I could ever eat again, and ordered herbal tea, but she would not hear of that.
I tell you what, you bring the Chief here a bowl of my bread pudding with Jack Daniel’s sauce, don’t worry, the iskey’s cooked off,” she said, and she was the doctor now. “And a cup of strong coffee. Captain?” She looked at Marino. “You want your usual, honey? Uh-huh,” she said before he could respond. “That will be one steak sandwich medium rare, grilled onions, extra fries. And he likes A. I., ketchup, mustard, mayo. No dessert. We want to keep this man alive.”
“You mind?” Marino got out his cigarettes, as if he needed one more thing that might kill him this day.
Daigo lit up a cigarette, too, and told us more about what she remembered, which was everything because the Hill Cafe was the sort of bar where people noticed strangers.
Danny, she said, had stayed less than an hour. He had come and gone alone, and it had not appeared that he was expecting anyone to join him. He had seemed mindful of the time because he frequently checked his watch, and he had ordered a sailor sandwich with fries and a Pepsi. Danny Webster’s last meal had cost him five dollars and twenty . cents. His waitress was named Cissy, and he had tipped her a dollar.
“And you didn’t see anybody in the area that made your antenna go up? Not at any point today?” Marino asked.
Daigo shook her head. “No sir. Now that doesn’t mean there wasn’t some son of a bitch hanging out somewhere on the street.. “Cause they’re out there. You don’t have to go far to find ’em. But if there was somebody, I didn’t see him. Nobody who came in here complained about anybody out there like that, either.”
“Well, we need to check with your customers, as many as we can,” Marino said.
“Maybe a car was noticed around the time Danny went out.”