“Did Eleanor ever talk about where she lived or worked before you gave her a job here?”

“She said she worked in a few bars in Hollywood.”

“She say which ones?”

“If she did, I don’t remember. It’s not like I asked for references or anything. She knew how to mix a drink, she looked great, and the customers loved her. That’s better than any résumé as far as I’m concerned.”

“She never spoke about her life before moving to Eagle Rock?”

“I don’t think so. You spoken to Darla Kennedy yet? If anyone knows about that stuff, it’d be her.”

“Darla? The receptionist at the newspaper?”

“That’s the one. Thick as thieves, those two were.” He scratched the stubble on his chin. “Although she would’ve been Darla Stevenson back then, not Kennedy. Married Hank Stevenson when they were both just kids. Split up a few years back.”

Darla and Eleanor had been best friends. No wonder the woman had reacted so strangely when Jessica had asked her to pull the newspapers from the time of Eleanor’s murder. She made a mental note to pay another visit to Darla Kennedy.

Jessica thought of the person of interest mentioned in the article she’d read at the Reformer offices. “What do you think happened the night Eleanor died?” she asked. “You got a theory about that too?”

Freeman shook his head sadly. “No idea, sweetheart. Had to be some kinda lunatic, don’t ya think? I mean, who else would force their way into a young girl’s home and cut her up like that?”

“The newspapers at the time said the cops had a suspect, a male friend of Eleanor’s. Any idea who this so-called person of interest was?”

“Sure, I do.”

“Really?” Jessica tried to sound casual, like her pulse hadn’t just skyrocketed through the ceiling. “Who?”

Freeman leaned across the table, all conspiratorial, and she tried not to breathe in the stench of stale cigarettes and sweat. He glanced around the room as though worried they might be overheard, even though the place was almost empty. The old man was still playing cards and was paying them no attention.

“Guy called Rob Young,” Freeman said in a low voice. “He worked here in the bar. In fact, it was Eleanor who asked me to give him the job. Said she’d known him for years.” He chuckled. “Hey, I guess I did know something about her life before she moved to the neighborhood.”

“When was this?”

“Four or five months before she died.”

“You think he did it?”

“Not a chance. Rob was a good kid. And he loved the bones of that girl.”

“Why do you think the cops liked him for it?”