Marilyn craned her neck to look at the jewel boxes, and then turned her attention back to Decker while puffing on her cigarette. “You’re impressed by that?” A roll of the eyes. “Ninety-nine point nine of them puppies went to the pound and were never heard from again. And the point one percent who had some success left Primo as soon as they could. Don’t confuse quantity with quality. Demos are cheap.”

“I didn’t know that Primo was an agent.”

“There you go. Yes, he was an agent, but not a very good one. Talent and charisma don’t just show up at your doorstep. You’ve got to go out and chase it. When you’re numbed by alcohol and shit, ambition and hard work seem like dirty words.”

“How far back do these demos go?”

“I dunno. I haven’t gotten to them yet.”

“Are you going to chuck them?”

“I’ll go through them to see if any of them have promise. What I should do is box them all up and take them to my place. The lease here is up in a couple of weeks and I’m not going to renew it. I can work from home. All I need is a CD player and a good set of ears.”

“How long do you think it’ll take you to box them up?”

“I dunno. It took me a long time to sort through his paperwork. Gawd, it was tedious.” A flick of the ashes in the can. “You didn’t come here to listen to my woes. What do you need?”

“Well, for one thing, I’d like to go through those CDs.”

“What are you looking for?”

“For anything by a rap artist named Rated-X, Travis-X, X Marks the Spot, or just plain X. Anything of those names sound familiar?”

“Primo didn’t do a lot of rap.”

“That doesn’t mean he didn’t get rap demos.”

“That’s true, but the guy doesn’t sound like a client.” She knitted her brow. “But the name isn’t foreign. Should I know this guy?”

“Travis Martel used those names when he rapped.”

“Travis Martel?” Marilyn took a deep drag on her cigarette. “The guy who’s in jail?

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re kidding! You think this punk and Primo worked together?” Another puff. “C’mon. While I don’t know all of Primo’s clients, I’d know if that fucking murderer worked with him.”

Decker was quiet. His silence made Marilyn turn red with fury.

“Why would Primo work with a punk like that?”

Decker pointed to the CDs. “All sorts of people sent him demos.”

“And with all those demos, how many do you think Primo actually contacted?”

“I don’t know. Maybe twenty.”

“How about three?”

“So maybe that’s the issue, Ms. Eustis. Maybe Travis Martel sent in a demo and when Primo didn’t get back to him, Travis got pissed.”