She said, “Sir. I’m the victim.”

“Of your own stupidity.”

“You’re stupid. Fat and ugly, too.”

“Sticks and stones,” said Milo, dialing 911.

CHAPTER

42

She called herself Kashmeer Katte, had fake I.D. to prove it. The same bogus document listed her age as twenty-five. The card shared scant space in her rabbit-fur purse with four hundred dollars in cash, two condoms, two plastic-wrapped nuggets of cocaine and one of methamphetamine.

Her real name was Agnes Brzica, her actual age, thirty-one. No sense disputing that, she came up five times on NCIC. Arrests for solicitation and drugs and once for assault.

Despite being found out, she lied about everything, starting with how long she’d known J. J. Williams.

“Just a couple weeks, sir.” She’d managed to cadge a jail uniform one size too small, setting off a power struggle with the silicon implanted in her chest.

Milo said, “A girl who dances with you at Black Velvet says Williams has been coming in for months, lots of times you two went home together.”

“Which girl?” said Brzica.

“That matters?”

“Some a them lie.”

He waited.

“Okay,” said Brzica. “Yeah, I partied with him, I just didn’t want to get in trouble.”

“I see.”

“Honest, sir. I had no idea what he was.”

“You thought he was a wholesome guy.”

Long pause. “He was okay.”

“He used you to lure Darius Kleffer outside so he could kill Kleffer.”

“No way, sir.”

“Yes way, Agnes.”

“Uh-uh. It wasn’t like that, sir.”

“What were you doing in Kleffer’s restaurant? Don’t say eating.”

“Eating.” Giggle. Hair toss. “Okay. I just went in ’cause he said he was a friend, wanted to surprise him.”

“Williams said Kleffer was a friend.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So he did use you to lure Kleffer?”

Silence.

“Agnes?”

“Not really, sir.”

“If all Williams wanted was to surprise Kleffer, why not just bop in himself?”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?”

“You’d have to ask him.”

“Kinda hard, Agnes.”

Big smile. Hair toss.

“Why’d Williams use you if it was just a surprise?”

“I guess I was a bigger surprise.”

“Kleffer said you worked at getting him out of the kitchen. Sent three compliments-to-the-chef messages, nagged the server.”

“He’s alive?”

“No thanks to you, Agnes.”

“Wow, that’s awesome, sir. I was surprised when that happened. Really. He’s got really stinky breath.”

“Kleffer or Williams?”

“The German. Really stinky.”

“He’s lucky he’s got any breath at all, Agnes.”

“You can call me Kashmeer, I like it better.”

“Fair enough, Kashmeer. What else are you going to tell me?”

“I didn’t do nothing, sir.”

“Sounds like you actually need to believe that.”

“I don’t need, I know, sir.”

“Okay, Kashmeer. Let’s talk about Richard Corey.”

“Who?” Exaggerated innocence.

Milo smiled. “Kashmeer, Kashmeer.”

“What?”

“Your DNA came up in the apartment next to Richard Corey’s. It’s not exactly a huge complex.”