word on an expelled breath, a cloud forming behind it.
He turned at the sound of footsteps. Terry approached, his face as pale as the one at the pavement below. âEvidence team just pulled up.â He rubbed his hands together. âCould this creep have picked a crappier night toââ
âWe have to talk. Now.â
Terryâs gaze moved past Quentinâs to the victim. A sound slipped past his lips; it reminded Quentin of one a small, trapped animal might make. He returned his gaze to Quentinâs. âOh, shit.â
âYouâve got that right, partner,â he said grimly. âAnd itâs about to hit the fan.â
5
Friday, January 12
Seventh District Station
T wo hours later, Quentin tapped on his captainâs open office door. Captain OâShay, a trim, sharp-eyed brunette, glanced up. She didnât look happy to see them so early in the morning. Beside him Terry shifted nervously. This meeting could go one of two ways: bad or worse. Captain OâShay didnât approve of her detectives participating in drunken brawlsâor of them having altercations with women who turned up dead hours later.
âGot a minute?â Quentin asked, flashing her a quick smile. If he had hoped to disarm her he saw immediately that heâd been wasting his energy. Patti OâShay had fought her way up through the ranks of mostly male, sometimes misogynist and often chauvinist officers, earning rank of captain through brilliant police work, single-minded determination and the ability to go toe-to-toe with some of the best bullshitters around. There wasnât a captain on the force tougher than Patti OâShay.
âWeâve got a potential situation,â Quentin said.
She frowned and waved them into her office. Her gaze flicked to Terry, then back to Quentin. âYou two look like hell.â
Not quite the opening they were hoping for. âWe were at Shannonâs last night.â
âSurprise, surprise.â She folded her hands on the desk in front of her. âThatâs where that girl was found.â
âCorrect. In the alley behind the bar.â
âFill me in.â
âHer name was Nancy Kent.â Terry cleared his throat. âTwenty-six years old. Recently divorced. A party girl. Had come into some serious cash with her divorce settlement. Apparently, she was flashing it around last night.â
Quentin took over. âM.E. places time of death somewhere between one-thirty and three.â
Captain OâShay seemed to digest that piece of information. âThat means Kent was killed either while the bar was still open or within an hour of closing. By that time of night the crowd should have thinned considerably.â
âNot last night, Captain,â Terry said. âAt one-thirty the party was still in full swing. Shannon had to force the diehards out at two. Threatened to call the cops.â
She ignored his snickerâa third of those diehards had been copsâand turned to Quentin. âWhat about Shannon?â she asked.
âQuestioned him,â Quentin answered. âHe was pretty shaken up. Didnât hear or see anything. Same for Suki and Paula, the two waitresses who closed with him.â
âAny chance Shannonâs our guy?â
âNo way. Besides, he has an alibi. Until closing, he never got out from behind the bar. After closing, he was with Suki and Paula. They all walked out together.â
Terry chimed in. âUsually Shannon takes the trash to the Dumpster while the girls clean the bar, but last night each of the girls grabbed a bag, then they all walked out together.â
âWhat time was that?â she asked.
âBetween 3:00 and 3:10 a.m.â
âAnd none of them saw anything?â
She sounded incredulous and Quentin stepped in. âThe alleyâs poorly lit. The three were exhausted and anxious to get home and Suki and Paula were sniping at each other over