The place was small and dimly lit. Holliday glanced at her. He had a look on his face that she couldn’t read. His gaze traveled slowly up and down, taking in her appearance. She was wearing tight black leather pants, a white satin shirt, and sandals that showed off bloodred toenails.

Holliday wore dark jeans and a navy shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Jessica caught a trace of the now-familiar spicy scent of his cologne. He tossed back a swallow of beer and nodded to the bartender.

She was black, around twenty-five, and beautiful. Bouncy curls and glossy lips. Tight tube top and tighter hot pants. The woman sauntered slowly from the other end of the bar toward Holliday, hips swaying, never taking her eyes off him.

“What can I do for you?” She asked the question in a way that sounded like she wasn’t talking about getting him another beer.

Holliday dropped a ten onto the counter along with one of the photos of Eleanor Lavelle emerging from the Tahiti Club.

“Anyone around here who can tell me about this woman? She used to work here.”

The bartender tucked the cash into the tube top, then leaned her elbows on the counter and looked down at the photo.

“She sure is pretty. Don’t look familiar, though. When did she work here?”

“Around thirty years ago.”

The woman straightened up and pushed the photo back toward Holliday with a throaty laugh.

“Honey, I wasn’t even a twinkle in my daddy’s eye thirty years ago.”

“Anyone else who might know her?”

“Uh-uh. None of the staff anyways. Bobby, the doorman, he’s been here longer than anyone, but you’re talking ten, maybe fifteen years.”

Holliday scooped up the photo. “Thanks anyway.”

“There is someone who might be able to help.”

“Yeah? Who?”

The bartender stared at Holliday, raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. He pulled another ten from his wallet, and the bill quickly disappeared into the tube top. She pointed a scarlet talon in the direction of a man sitting on his own in a booth close to the stage.

“Johnny Blue. Been coming here forever. Buy him a drink, and he might give you a few minutes of his time.” She glanced at the wall clock behind her. “Better make it quick, though. Clio is on at midnight. She’s his favorite.”

“His name is Johnny Blue?” Jessica said. “Seriously?”

The bartender shrugged, gave her a cold, hard stare. “It’s what everyone calls him, and it’s what he answers to.”

“Well, I guess you’d better pour old Johnny Blue a drink of whatever he usually has, and we’ll have the same again too.” Jessica jerked a thumb at Holliday. “He’s paying, seeing as he seems to be so generous with his cash this evening.”