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Harvey Wolfe nodded. “After you called, I called in and had them check her ticket. The bar register shows the ticket was opened with her first martini at six fifty-one.”

“And she was there with her party until just after nine?”

Sipping his coffee, Wolfe nodded again.

“About then,” he said. “I don’t remember exactly. She told me to leave open her tab, to give her table whatever they wanted to order.”

“And who was at the table?”

“The only ones I knew for sure was the football player and the city councilman.”

“Tony Holmes and William Lane.”

“Yeah. But there were a bunch of others who came and went. Someone said some actress, but I don’t watch TV so I couldn’t tell you.”

“How long was Miss Morgan gone?”

“I’m not sure. It was a busy, loud night,” Harvey Wolfe said. “I do remember that when she came back, she had me make her another martini. And that she looked a little annoyed for some reason.”

Payne felt Harris glance at him, saw his knowing look, and shrugged in reply.

“But once she got her drink she brightened,” Wolfe went on. “If I had to guess, I’d say that had to be about ten, ten-thirty-ish.”

Nasuti said, “And she stayed until . . . ?”

Wolfe laughed deeply.

“What?” Nasuti said.

“She wanted to keep drinking until the sun came up, if she could.”

“Why’s that?”

“At one-thirty, I put out the word to the servers to tell their customers that last call was at one forty-five. When Miss Morgan heard that, she tried to get me to keep the place open later. And when I said I was sorry, that was impossible—the hotel strictly follows the city’s two A.M. bar-closing law—she said she’d happily rent out the place, make it a private party.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Well, I really don’t have the authority, not that kind of flexibility. But, believe me, it was tempting—it was Miss Morgan, who’s always really nice and a big tipper, and the extra money for the staff would’ve been sweet. I mean, the bar tab already was over a thousand bucks. She asked me to ask and I said I would.”

“And?”

“When I first asked the other servers, before trying my manager, only a couple got excited, and we couldn’t do it with only a couple. Some of us have second jobs, you know? And school. And even when we close at two, it’s maybe not till three, sometimes four, that we get the place cleaned up so we can go home.”

“Got it. So, what happened then?”

“I told Miss Morgan and she said she was inviting anyone in the bar to come up to her condominium for an after-hours party. Including us servers, which shows you how generous she was.”

“Did you go?”

Wolfe frowned, shook his head.

“Thought about it,” he said, “but management doesn’t allow us to hang with guests.”

“Do you know who did go up?”

He shook his head again.

“I was busy closing up the bar—wiping down bottles, cycling glasses in and out of the dishwater, the usual. People closed out their tabs and went out the door, but I can’t say who actually went with her. I heard that city councilman saying he was exhausted and had to go home.”