Page 119 of Thankless in Death

“Where’s Lucille?”

“She used to hang around Avenue A, back when she had a street license. But she got her own place, and upped her license. I’m not real sure, but maybe she’s still in Alphabet City. I haven’t seen her, you know, since I was about eighteen. It was just too weird getting—having the same LC do all of us.”

“Okay. Just give me a basic idea on her. How old? Race?”

“Ah, I think she’s not much more than me—like maybe twenty-seven, twenty-eight. Like that. Mixed. I think Black and Asian. She’s really nice looking, or was.”

“Okay, thanks. Anything or anyone else comes to mind, contact me.”

“Sure. Um, Lieutenant? Dave and I—and Jim, Dave’s brother—we did a sweep of the neighborhood last night. We didn’t see him, or talk to anybody who has.”

“Trying to do my job, Mal?”

“No, really, no. Dave and I, we just had to get out of the house for a while. And we stuck together. We’re all sticking together.”

“Keep doing that,” Eve advised.

The conversation nearly took her to Klein’s building. As she navigated the rest of the route, she contacted Charles Monroe.

Instead of the slickly handsome sex expert, the pretty blond doctor he married came on the ’link. “Hi, Dallas.”

“Hey, Louise. I thought I tagged Charles.”

“You did. His ’link was here on the counter and he’s making me breakfast.”

“Sorry to interrupt.”

“No problem. And his hands are free again. We’re looking forward to seeing you tomorrow, seeing everyone. Here’s Charles.”

“Morning, Lieutenant Sugar.”

“Charles. Just a quick question. Do you know or can you find out about an LC who started street level maybe ten years ago, and young when she did. Probably just legal. Goes by Lucille.”

“Seriously?”

“I’ve got a little more. Mixed race, probably Black/Asian, Avenue A turf back at the start, then moved up, but likely stayed in the same area. And before you ask, no I don’t know how many LCs work Alphabet City, but I figure it’s a lot. I’m just looking for one. She’s not in trouble, but I’d like to keep it that way.”

“I never worked that area, but I know some who did or do. I’ll see what I can find out.”

“Appreciate it. What’re you making?”

“Honeymoon pancakes.”

“How long’s the honeymoon?” she wondered as they’d been married for months.

“I’m looking at forever.”

“Nice thought, and thanks in advance for the help. See you,” she added, clicking off as she zipped to the curb a block from Asshole Joe’s.

She climbed out, calculating. Pizza joint wouldn’t be open yet, and neither would the arcade. She might be able to try Gregman’s sooner, and she’d get a line on any recent purchases for high-dollar tickets to Giants games.

Or better yet, she thought, when she spotted her partner in her puffy purple coat and pink cowboy boots flooding out of the subway stairs with a million others.

Eve fell into step beside her. “Good timing.”

“It was like being held hostage in an airless box with a bunch of refugees. They really need more trains on this line.”

“Routines,” Eve said. “They’re comfort, habit, patterns. Everybody’s got some. Routines, favorite things. I’ve got a list of Reinhold’s. I need you to check on tickets, premium tickets for Giants games. That’s football.”