“Marjie and Mr. Cohen didn’t control the money, she did. The building was hers, the idea was hers, everything was hers. She was always talking like she was the one who’d made up Green. Like Al Gore had never existed. You think she killed Des?”

“You think she could’ve?”

The women looked at each other. Sanfelice stirred her drink. Passant said, “I’m not saying she’d have done it. But she’s not like a regular person, you know?”

“Different,” said Sanfelice. “She’s from Europe.”

The red-shirted kid reappeared, this time bearing two plates.

Bacon burgers oozing with molten white and orange cheese, salads the size of a baby’s head, a hay-bale of onion rings. “Um, do you guys still want this?”

Bettina Sanfelice said, “I was hungry but now I’m also feeling nauseous.”

Sheryl Passant said, “Yuck. Do we still have to pay?”

Milo said, “Put the food down, son, and give me the check. Here’s your tip in advance.” Forking over bills.

The kid said, “Sweet.”

A few minutes of routine questions produced nothing new about Desmond Backer, whom the women described as “Nice and totally hot.” The shock had worn off and they both seemed pleased at the attention.

Bettina Sanfelice studied her burger. “It’s probably gross but I’m going to try.”

Sheryl Passant said, “Not me.” Moments later, a grin as she bit in, wiped her chin. “Guess I lied.”

Milo let them eat, offered drink refills. They declined. Sanfelice wholeheartedly, Passant with some regret.

Milo stared at me.

I raised my eyebrows.

He cocked his head to the side and when I didn’t respond, said, “My partner’s gonna ask you some questions now. They’re a little personal, so sorry. But we really need to ask.”

Waving the red-shirted kid over, he ordered an extra-large Coke.

Both women had stopped eating.

Sheryl Passant’s thigh pressed hard against mine.

CHAPTER

7

Bettina Sanfelice said, “Personal?”

Milo’s eyebrows said Take it from here. Sheryl Passant said, “They mean sex, Teen. Because Des was a horner from day one, right? Like he was put on this earth to do it.” The corners of her mouth turned up as she bent over her straw. Conspicuous slurp.

I said, “Helga and Marjorie Holman both told us about a meeting where Des was discussed by all of you.”

Passant grinned. “Where we all admitted doing Des.”

Bettina Sanfelice’s hand shot to her mouth.

“Stop being dorky, Teen. You did him, we all did him. So what?”

“Omigod.” Sanfelice hung her head.

Passant laughed. “I have always been her bad influence, that’s why her mom has always hated me. Put a horn like Des with a bunch of girls, what do you think’s going to have happened?”

I said, “Helga said it didn’t happen with her.”

“That’s because she’s never been human—stop spazzing, Teen, it’s biology.”