“And sometime concert hall. Nickleback is playing tonight.”

“That’s where your guys lost her.”

“I guess I’m not communicating very well, Detective. Nickleback is an Alberta group. There were thousands of people milling around the grounds.”

“Takes skill to keep a tail in a crowd,” Ryan said.

“We’ll find her.” Frosty.

“Faster than you lost her?”

Ollie’s pen stopped moving.

I shot Ryan my squinty-eye look. “Sounds like Ruben was trying to make contact with someone,” I said.

“Probably,” Ollie agreed.

“Susan Forex?”

“I’m waiting for word on her whereabouts.”

“Did Ruben have a pimp?” Ryan asked.

“A twisted little prick name of Ronnie Scarborough. Goes by Scar. Guy’s got the charm of a dirty needle.”

“Meaning?”

“He’s ugly, he’s violent, and he has a short fuse.”

“A bad combination.”

“Scarborough’s handle doesn’t come from his name. He once put a scar on a girl’s face the size of my hand. Used a hot poker.”

“Think Ruben might attempt to hook up with him?” I asked.

“I think she’d try Forex first. But who knows.”

“What now?” I asked neither of them in particular.

“Now we wait for my guys to sniff Ruben out. I’ve booked two rooms at the Best Western. That’s about a block from here. You want to check in or grab something to eat?”

“I’m famished,” I said.

“Gourmet or cheap?”

“Quick.”

“Burgers all right?”

“Perfect.”

* * *

At ten-thirty P.M. the Burger Express hosted only two other customers: an old geezer I suspected might have cadged his meal, and a teen with a backpack and no visible eyes.

The kid manning the counter looked like an escapee from rehab. Scuzzy teeth. Ratty hair. Nightmare acne.

Didn’t diminish my appetite. I ordered the mastodon burger. Or whatever the colossus was called. Onion rings. Diet Coke.

As we ate, Ollie filled us in on Susan Forex.

“She was collared twice after filing the report on Ruben. Once as part of a general sweep—that time she skated. Once for soliciting—that bought her a year of probation.”

“Then straight back to the life.” Ryan sounded disgusted.

“Something like that.” Ollie’s tone could have frozen peas.

“Guess she missed the constant round of parties and gallery openings.”

“Forex is different from most girls on the stroll.”

“Meaning?”

“Forget it.”

Ryan turned to me. “Coffee?”

“No, thanks.”

I was already regretting my menu selections. And the speed with which I’d ingested the damn things.

Ryan left to score caffeine. Perhaps to light up. Though he’d kicked cigarettes years back, recently I’d smelled smoke on his clothes and hair. That along with the uncharacteristic surliness meant he was edgy as hell.

We were shoving waxy wrappers back into grease-stained bags when Ollie’s mobile buzzed. While he took the call, I crossed to an overfilled trash bin and mashed our contribution into the mix.

When I returned to the booth, Ollie looked like a kid who’d found his lost puppy after a very long search.

“Forex is at a bar over near the Coliseum.”