"Best-laid plans," he said. "So to speak."

"Which brings us back to Fidella," I said. "If he was involved in the scheme, he'd lose twice: another jackpot dashed and his girlfriend's making a fool of him with another man. I keep going back to his having a key to her house. What if he dropped in one night, found Elise and Hauer together but left without a scene?"

"He stews, builds up the rage, finally accepts the fact that Elise won't go forward with her threats."

"He also was aware of Elise's binge-drinking. Who better to lace her vodka with some kind of opiate? He waits until she's wasted and helpless, lowers her into the tub, packs her like crab legs at the fish market."

He grimaced. "And here I was thinking seafood for dinner. Wonder where that waitress hangs out when she's not drinking at Arnie Joseph's."

The octogenarian bartender held a glass to the light. "That's Doris, she does the three-to-eleven shift at Fat Boy."

"Where's Fat Boy?"

"Two blocks north. If you're thinking Doris had a thing with Sal, she didn't."

"Who did?" said Milo.

"Some blonde."

Milo showed him a snap of Elise Freeman.

"That's her."

"She in here a lot?"

"A few times. Grey Goose, up. Sometimes a twist, sometimes nothing."

"Not an ice freak," said Milo.

"Nope."

"Heavy drinker?"

"One drink, period. Thank God most ain't like her."

"What else do you know about her?"

"Nothing, I know drinks, not people." Studying Milo. "You're beer." To me: "Blended scotch, maybe a high-end single malt if you're feeling flush. Both of you drink wine when your wives want you to."

"Let's hear it for the wives," said Milo. "You're an oracle."

"Been doing this for fifty-three years, nothing changes."

"What does your crystal ball tell you about Sal?"

"Beer, same as you. Only difference is you I might let run a tab."

"Sal's not a good risk?"

"I'm a trusting sort," said the old man. "But jerk me around enough and it's cash on the barrel."

"Sal has trouble meeting his obligations?"

The bartender laid down his towel, folded it neatly. "What kind of dumb-ass empties a slot machine of ten grand and blows it the same day? When it comes to settling up, he's always got a sad story. So now it's cash on the barrel."

"Sal react okay to that?" said Milo.

"What do you mean?"

"He have a temper?"

"People don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Fuss when I read 'em the law." He reached behind the bar, hefted a Louisville Slugger. Black worn to gray, same for the tape around the handle.

Milo said, "It came to that with Sal?"

"Nah, but he knows it's here. Everyone does. Got robbed twenty-eight years ago, coupla cholos pistol-whipped me, my skull was like eggshell. I got smart."

"A bat's enough?"