Leaning as close as the hat would allow, Stetson spoke into Forex’s ear. She ran a long red nail up his forearm. Both laughed.

We crossed the room, senses alert to danger.

The bartender watched, eyes bouncing from us to the door, to the waitress, to the tables, to his charges at the bar. A few other eyes rolled our way. Most didn’t.

“Hello, Susan.”

Forex swiveled at the sound of her name. When she saw Ollie, her smile collapsed.

“Friends of yours?” Stetson peered around Forex toward us, a drunken grin splitting his doughy face.

“Beat it.” Forex flicked a dismissive wrist at her would-be john.

“Darlin’, you and me are gonna—”

Forex rounded on him. “Get the hell out of here.”

Stetson’s face crumpled in confusion, tensed when he grasped that she was blowing him off. “Pay for your own drink, bitch.”

With that witty retort, Stetson shoved from the bar stool. Standing straight, including the hat, he was maybe my height.

Ollie waited until Stetson was out of earshot. Which wasn’t long. Stompin’ Tom Connors was now singing about a Sudbury Saturday night.

“We’re not here to hassle you, Foxy.”

Forex rolled her eyes and crossed her legs. Which were spectacular.

The bartender closed some distance but kept his gaze on everything but us.

Ollie got right to it. “You filed a missing persons report on Annaliese Ruben.”

Forex went totally still. Bracing for bad news? Preparing a lie to protect her friend?

“You OK, Foxy?” The bartender spoke just loud enough to be heard above the music.

“I’m good, Toffer.”

“You sure?”

“She’s sure.” Ollie badged him.

Toffer backed off and became very busy wiping the bar.

Up close I could see that Forex’s hair was dark down close to her scalp. Though yellowed, her teeth were even and perfectly straight, suggesting a childhood affluent enough to include braces. Her skin was smooth, her makeup skillfully applied. In that light, she could have been thirty or fifty.

“We think Ruben was living in Quebec the past three years,” Ollie continued. “Word is she’s back in Edmonton.”

“Good. The little punk stiffed me on her share of the last month’s rent.”

As Ollie questioned Forex, I checked out two men sitting a few stools over. Their body language told me both were listening. One guy was large, with wild black hair and dark little eyes that looked like raisins. The other was smaller, with leather wristbands on arms inked with jailhouse tattoos.

“Come on, Foxy. You know where she is.” Ollie seemed unaware of the interest our conversation was drawing. “She dimed you, right? Asked for a place to crash?”

“I love a good spring rain, don’t you, Sergeant?”

“Or did she call Scar?”

“Who?”

“You know who I’m talking about.”

Forex picked up her drink and swirled the ice. I noticed that her fingers were well manicured and free of nicotine stains.

“Help me here, Foxy.”

“Ruben was too young to be living on the streets. I took her in. Doesn’t mean I bought the rights to her life story.”