“Yes, of course,” she said, and her face took on the studied, sober look of a child trying to cope with grown-up problems.
“Miss Cooper—”
“Lonnie,” she said.
“Lonnie—”
“Yes, Steve?”
Carella cleared his throat. “Lonnie, we understand there was a party here a week ago last Sunday, that would’ve been the seventh of February. Do you recall such a party?”
“Yeah, wow,” she said, “it was a great party!”
“Was Sally Anderson here?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“And Tina Wong?”
“Yep.”
“And Allan Carter?”
“Sure, lots of people,” Lonnie said.
“How about Mike Roldan and Tony Asensio?” Meyer asked.
“You guys really do your homework, don’t you?” Lonnie said.
Meyer had never thought of it as homework; he smiled weakly.
“They were here, too, Meyer,” Lonnie said, and smiled back — dazzlingly.
“From what we’ve been able to determine,” Carella said, “there was some cocaine floating around that night.”
“Oh?” she said, and the smile dropped from her face.
“Was there?”
“Who told you that?”
“Several people.”
“Who?”
“That’s not important, Miss Cooper.”
“It’s important to me, Steve. And please call me Lonnie.”
“We’ve had it from three different sources,” Meyer said.
“Who?”
He looked at Carella. Carella nodded.
“Tina Wong, Mike Roldan, and Tony Asensio,” Meyer said.
“Boy,” Lonnie said, and shook her head.
“Is it true?” Carella said.
“Listen, who am I to contradict them?” Lonnie said, and shrugged and grimaced, and then shifted her position in the chair. “But I thought this was about Sally.”
“It is.”
“I mean, is this going to turn into a cocaine thing?”
“It’s already a cocaine thing,” Meyer said. “We know Sally was doing coke that night, and we also know—”
“You’re talking about last Sunday?”
“A week ago last Sunday, yes. You do remember that Sally was doing coke, don’t you?”
“Well... yes. Now that you mention it.”
“Plus some other people as well.”
“Well, a few others.”
“Okay. Where’d the stuff come from?”
“How would I know?”
“Miss Cooper—”
“Lonnie.”
“Lonnie, we’re not looking for a drug collar here. Sally Anderson was murdered, and we’re trying to find out why. If cocaine had anything to do with her death—”
“I don’t see how it could have.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because she’s the one who brought the coke.”
“We know that. But where’d she get it, would you know?”
“Uptown someplace.”
“Where uptown?”
“I have no idea.”
“How far uptown? Are we talking about below the park or—”
“I really don’t know.”
“How often did she bring the stuff in?”
“Usually once a week. On Monday nights, before the show. We’re dark on Sunday—”
“Dark?”
“No performances. So she usually got the stuff on Sundays, I guess, went uptown for it on Sundays, or else had it delivered, I really don’t know. Anyway, she brought it to the theater on Monday nights.”
“And distributed it among the cast.”
“Those who wanted it, yes.”
“How many of those were there?”
“Half a dozen? Seven? Something like that.”
“How much money was involved here, would you say?”
“You don’t think she was in this for the money, do you?”
“Why was she in it?”
“She was doing us a favor, that’s all. I mean, why duplicate the effort? If you’ve got a good contact and he delivers good dust, why not make one big buy every week instead of six or seven small buys from dealers you maybe can’t trust? It only makes sense.”
“Uh-huh,” Carella said.
“Well, doesn’t it?”
“So what are we talking about here?” Meyer said. “For the six or seven grams, what’d she—”
“Well, sometimes more than that. But she only charged what she herself was paying for it, believe me. I know street prices, and that’s all she was getting.”
“Nothing for all the trouble of having to go uptown?”
“What trouble? She had to go anyway, didn’t she? And besides, maybe the man was delivering it, who knows? You’re really barking up the wrong tree if you think that’s how Sally—”
She stopped suddenly.
“How Sally what?” Carella asked at once.
“How she... uh—”
Lonnie grimaced and shrugged as though utterly baffled as to how she might finish the sentence she had started.
“Yes?” Carella said. “How she what?”
“Earned her living,” Lonnie said, and smiled.
“Well, we know how she earned her living, don’t we?” Meyer said. “She was a dancer.”
“Well, yes.”
“Then why would we think she earned her living some other way?”
“Well, you’ve been talking about coke here, and asking how much money was involved—”
“Yes, but you told us she wasn’t making any profit on the coke.”
“That’s right.”
“Was she earning extra cash someplace else?” Carella asked.
“I don’t know anything about any extra cash.”
“But there was extra cash someplace, wasn’t there?”
“Gee, did I say that?” Lonnie said, and rolled her eyes.
“You seemed to indicate—”
“No, you misunderstood me, Steve.”
“Where’d she get this extra cash?” Carella asked.
“What extra cash?” Lonnie said.
“Let’s start all over again,” Carella said. “What did you mean when you used the words ‘how she earned her living’?”
“As a dancer,” Lonnie said.
“That’s not what I’m asking you.”
“I don’t know what you’re asking me.”
“I’m asking you where she earned additional income.”
“Who said she did?”
“I thought that’s what you implied.”
“Anyway,” Lonnie said, “sometimes a performer will do a nightclub gig or something. While she’s still in a show that’s running.”
“Uh-huh,” Carella said. “Was Sally doing nightclub gigs?”
“Well... no. Not that I know of.”
“Then what was she doing?”
“I only said—”
Lonnie shook her head.
“You said she was doing something that earned her a living. What was it?”
“It goes on all over town,” Lonnie said.
“What does?”
“If Sally was lucky enough to get cut in on it, more power to her.”
“Cut in on what?”
“It isn’t even against the law, that I know of,” Lonnie said. “Nobody gets hurt by it.”
“What are we talking about?” Meyer asked. It sounded as if she’d been describing prostitution, but surely she knew that was against the law. And besides, who said nobody got hurt by it?
“Tell us what you mean,” Carella said.
“I don’t have anything else to tell you,” she said, and folded her arms across her chest like a pouting six-year-old.