"Not much, except she was a dumb bitch." He sipped the drink. "She hung around for awhile, then went crying off. It was fine with me. The master doesn't need any weaklings."
"The master."
He sipped again, smiled. "Satan," he said, relishing it.
"You believe in Satan?"
"Sure." He leaned forward, slid his hand with its long, black-painted nails toward Eve. "And he believes in you."
"Careful," Roarke murmured. "You're too young and stupid to loose a hand."
Lobar snorted, but he slid his hand back again. "Your watchdog?" he said to Eve. "Your rich watchdog. We know who you are," he added, fixing his red eyes on Roarke. "Big fucking deal. You don't have any power here. And neither does your cop bitch."
"I'm not his cop bitch," Eve said mildly, shooting a warning glance at Roarke. "I'm my own cop bitch. And as to power…" She leaned back. "Well, I've got the power to take you down to Cop Central and slap you into Interview." She smiled, letting her gaze run over the naked chest and gleaming nipple rings. "The guys would just love to get a load of you. Cute, isn't he, Roarke?"
"In an apprentice demon sort of fashion. You must have a very… interesting dentist." As it was a privacy booth, he took out a cigarette, lighted it.
"I could use one of those," Lobar said.
"Could you?" With a shrug, Roarke slid another cigarette onto the table. When Lobar picked it up, looked at him expectantly, Roarke grinned. "Sorry, you want a light? I assumed you'd shoot flame out of your fingertips."
"I don't do tricks for straights." Lobar leaned forward, sucking on the filter as Roarke flicked his lighter at the tip. "Look, you want to know about Alice, and I can't help you. She wasn't my type. Too inhibited, and always asking questions. Sure I banged her a couple of times, but those were like community fucks, you know? Nothing personal."
"And on the night she was killed?"
He blew out smoke, sucked more in. He hadn't had real tobacco before, and the expensive drug made him lightheaded and relaxed. "Never saw her. I was busy. I had a private ceremony with Selina and Alban. Sexual rites. After, we fucked around most of the night."
He took another deep drag, holding it in as he would a toke from a prime joint, then exhaling lustily through his nostrils. "Selina likes double bangers, and when she's done, she likes to watch and get herself off. Was dawn, easy, before she'd had enough."
"And the three of you were together the entire night. No one left, even for a few minutes."
He moved his bony shoulders. "That's the thing about three people. No waiting." He lowered his gaze suggestively to her breasts. "Want to try it?"
"You don't want to solicit a cop, Lobar. And I like men. Not skinny boys in silly costumes. Who called Alice and played the recording. The chant?"
He was sulky again, his ego pricked. If she'd come alone, he thought, he'd have shown her a few things. A bitch was a bitch as far as he was concerned, badge or no badge. "I don't know what you're talking about. Alice was nothing. Nobody gave a shit about her."
"Her grandfather did."
"Heard he was dead, too." The red eyes gleamed. "Old fart. Desk cop, button pusher. Means nothing to me."
"Enough to know he was a cop," Eve put in. "A cop who rode a desk. How'd you know that, Lobar?"
Realizing his mistake, he crushed out what was left of the cigarette in quick, vicious little jabs. "Somebody must've mentioned it." He exposed his fangs in a wide grin. "Probably Alice did, while I was banging her."
"Doesn't say much for your performance rating, does it, if she was talking about her grandfather when you were… banging her."
"I heard it somewhere, all right?" He grabbed his drink, gulped deeply. "What's the big fucking deal where? He was old, anyway."
"Did you ever see him? In here?"
"I see a lot of people in here. I don't remember any old cop." He waved a hand. "Place rocks like this most every night. How the hell do I know who comes in? Selina hired me to keep the occasional asshole in line, not to remember faces."
"Selina's got quite the enterprise going here. Is she still dealing? She deal for you?"
His eyes went sly. "I get power from my beliefs. I don't need illegals."
"Have you ever participated in human sacrifice? Ever slice up a child for your master, Lobar?''
He polished off his drink. "That's an outsider's hallucination. People like you like to make Satanists out to be monsters."
"People like us," Roarke murmured, skimming his gaze over Lobar from the fire-tipped hair to the nipple rings. "Yes, obviously we're biased when anyone can see you're simply… devout."
"Look, it's a religion, and we've got freedom of religion in this country. You want to push your God down our throats? Well, we reject him. We reject him and all his weak-kneed creeds. And we'll rule in Hell."
He shoved back from the table and stood. "I've got nothing more to say."
"All right." Eve spoke quietly, looking up into his eyes. "But you think about this, Lobar. People are dead. Somebody's going to be next. It might just be you."
His lips trembled, then firmed. "It might just be you," he shot back and slammed out of the booth.
"What an attractive young man," Roarke commented. "I do believe he'll be a delightful addition to Hell."
"That may be where he's going." After a quick glance around, Eve nudged the empty glass into her bag. "I want to find out where he came from. I can run his prints at home."
"Fine." He rose, took her arm. "But I want a shower first. This place leaves something nasty coated on the skin."
"I can't argue with that."
– =O=-***-=O=-
"Robert Allen Mathias," Eve stated, reading data off her monitor. "Turned eighteen six months ago. Born in Kansas City, Kansas, son of Jonathan and Elaine Mathias, both of whom are Baptist deacons."
"A PK." Roarke put in. "Preacher's kid. Some can rebel in extreme manners. Looks like little Bobby has."
"History of problems," Eve continued. "I got his juvie file here. Petty theft, break in, truancy, assault. Ran away from home four times before he hit thirteen. At fifteen, after a joy ride that landed him a grand theft auto, his parents had him termed legally incorrigible. Did a year at a state school, which ended with him being kicked to a state institution after an attempted rape on a teacher."
"Bobby's a sweetheart," Roarke murmured. "I knew there was a reason I wanted to jab his little red eyes out. They kept latching onto your breasts."
"Yeah." Unconsciously, Eve rubbed a hand over them as if to erase something vile. "Psych profile's pretty much what you'd expect. Sociopathic tendencies, lack of control, violent mood swings. Subject harbors deep, unresolved resentment toward parents and authority figures, particularly female. Displays both fear and resentment toward females. Intelligence rating, high, violence quotient, high. Subject displays complete lack of conscience and an abnormal interest in the occult."
"Then what is he doing out on the street? Why isn't he in treatment?"
"Because it's the law. You have to kick him when he turns eighteen. Until you nail him as an adult, he's clear." Eve puffed out her cheeks, blew out the air. "He's a dangerous little bastard, but there's not much I can do about him. He corroborates Selina's statement for the night of Alice's death."
"He'd have been instructed to," Roarke pointed out.
"Still sticks – unless I can break it." She pushed back. "I've got his current address. I can check it out, knock on doors. See if his neighbors can give me something on him. If I can get him in on something, lay on some pressure, I think little Bobby would break."
"Otherwise?"
"Otherwise, we keep digging." She rubbed her eyes.
"We'll deal with him. Sooner or later, he'll revert to type – bust somebody's face, assault some woman, kick the wrong ass. Then we'll lock him in a cage."
"Your job is miserable."
"Most of the time," she agreed, then looked over her shoulder. "Are you tired?"