“Tammy. Good kid. If you’re investigating, she’s not been here in a couple of weeks.”

“I was hoping if I spoke to people she knew, I might jog some memories.”

He leaned on the glass display top. “A solid worker,” he said. “Talked all the time about making a home here. I was thinking about promoting her to assistant manager. She got me into donating the store’s extra food at the end of the day to the shelter.”

Avery had spent time in the nearby shelter. She had just turned eighteen and decided Jordan’s rules were too harsh. “And then she quit?”

“Yeah. It came out of the blue. She said she could make better money cocktail waitressing and would have more time for her artwork. I hated to lose her, but the kids who work here never stay long.”

“Did she have any friends?”

“Kids who’ve stayed at the shelter and other artists.”

“Where was she from?”

“She never said, but I think she had a substance-abuse problem. She was never high here, and it seemed like all that was in the past. I didn’t think her move to the Saloon was a good idea.”

Junkies fell off the wagon all the time. Years of sobriety could be wiped out with one bad choice, which could tip them into a death spiral. For all Jordan knew, Tammy was in a flophouse with a needle in her arm. Or she could have moved back to wherever she came from. Impulse control could be an issue for addicts.

She pulled a business card from her pocket. “Can you call me if you think of anything? I’d like to find her.”

“I hope you do find her. Be nice to know she’s doing okay,” he said as he came around the counter. “Let me walk you to the front. I want to tell the cashier that your order is on the house.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” he said easily. “It’s the least I can do.”

As they approached the register, he said to the kid, “Richie, this is Detective Poe. She’s looking for Tammy.”

The kid swiped back a thick lock of hair. “Wow, I didn’t know she was missing.”

“Did you know her well?” Jordan asked.

“Sure, we sometimes took our breaks together, and I helped her deliver our extra food to the shelter.”

“Richie or I still coordinate the deliveries,” Mr. Rawlings said.

“Mr. Rawlings, did you make deliveries with Tammy as well?” Jordan asked.

“Sure. She liked going. Half the time, she knew a few of the residents, and they chatted while we unloaded.”

“Did she ever talk about herself?” Jordan asked.

“Not to me,” Rawlings said. “What about you, Richie?”

“A little,” Richie said.

“And?” Jordan prompted.

“Feels weird talking about her,” Richie said.

“I’m trying to help her,” Jordan said.