She frowned. Maybe for the first time, judging by that smooth face. “Did you know he used to abuse her? I mean, really abuse her, slap her around, smack her and stuff, with his fist sometimes.”

“She’s going with Vincent Colby now.”

“She is. He’s nice.”

“He doesn’t abuse her?”

“Oh no.”

“I heard he likes it rough.”

She blinked at me. “Likes what rough?”

“Sex. Or sex play, anyway.”

Shrug. “I wouldn’t know. He’s her boyfriend.”

I shifted on the sofa. “Julie, there was another girl in the secretarial pool at Colby…”

“I’m not in the pool. I have my own desk. You saw it.”

“I did. You and Ms. Stern seem to have floated to the top.”

“Top of what?”

“The secretarial pool.”

She thought about that, then smiled. “You’re kind of funny, aren’t you?”

“Some people think I’m hilarious.”

“Mark me one of ’em. You mean Vickie Dorn.”

“Victoria Dorn, yeah. She was killed a while back.”

She drew in breath through her nose, let it out the same way. “That was awful. Strangled or something. And raped. Raped first, I suppose.”

“Right. Didn’t Vincent date her?”

She shrugged and shook her head simultaneously. “He went out with her a few times. I don’t think it got serious. They weren’t a…thing. Not that I know of, anyway.”

“Were you friends with Vickie?”

“Work friends.”

“Did she say anything about Vincent?”

The big blue eyes got narrow. “You mean, like…did he like it rough?”

“Right. Like did he like it rough?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t know Vickie that well. But if Vincent likes it rough, wouldn’t I know? From Sheila? We are friends, not just work friends.”

I gestured around us. “Friends before you got this place together?”

“Work friends till then. Better friends now.”

I frowned. “I didn’t know Sheila ever worked at Colby’s.”

“She didn’t. We used to waitress together at Café Reggio’s. When I got the job at Colby’s, we could afford this place. She’d stop by there sometimes and that’s when Vincent saw her and, you know, liked what he saw.”

“Kind of pursued her, you mean.”

“No. He was just friendly. Flirted some, but…you need to talk to Sheila about that.”

“Got it.”

“I didn’t mean to get snippy.”

“You didn’t get snippy at all, Julie. I’m just a snoop. It’s what they pay me for.”

Her smile was cuter than a box of puppies. “Yeah. You’re a detective. Like Magnum. You sure you don’t want a beer or a wine cooler?”

“No, I’m fine.” I patted her arm. “Listen, honey…sorry about all the questions. And you don’t have to keep me company or anything. You don’t have to entertain me.”

Another shrug. “I don’t mind.”