Gabray looked at it, smoked, said, “So?”
“Remember her, Robert?”
“Should I?”
“Her name’s Dawn Herbert. She was offed near the Mayan and you told some detectives you saw her with some guy.”
Gabray flicked ashes and smiled. “That’s what this is about? Yeah, I told them. I guess.”
“You guess?”
“It was a long time ago, man.”
“Three months.”
“That’s a long time, man.”
Milo moved closer to Gabray and stared down at the smaller man. “You gonna help me on this? Yes or no?” Waving the homicide photo.
“What happened to the other cops? One a them was a beaner, I think.”
“They took early retirement.”
Gabray laughed. “Where? In Tia Wanna?”
“Talk to me, Robert.”
“I don’t know nothing.”
“You saw her with a guy.”
Shrug.
“Did you lie to those poor hardworking detectives, Robert?”
“Me? Never.” Smile. “Perish my thoughts.”
“Tell me what you told them.”
“Didn’t they write it down?”
“Tell me anyway.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“Three months.”
“That’s long, man.”
“Sure is, Robert. Ninety whole days, and think about this: Your record, even a little weed could put you away for two, three times that long. Think of three hundred cold days — that was a lot of grass in your trunk.”
Gabray looked at the photo, turned his head, and smoked.
“It wasn’t mine. The weed.”
Milo’s turn to laugh. “That gonna be your defense?”
Gabray frowned, pinched his cigarette, sucked smoke through it. “You’re saying you can help me?”
“Depends on what you come up with.”
“I seen her.”
“With a guy?”
Nod.
“Tell me the whole thing, Robert.”
“That’s it.”
“Tell it like a story. Once upon a time.”
Gabray snickered. “Yeah, sure. Once upon a time... I seen her with a guy. The end.”
“In the club?”
“Outside.”
“Where outside?”
“Like... a block away.”
“That the only time you saw her?”
Gabray contemplated. “Maybe I seen her another time, inside.”
“Was she a regular?”
“Whatever.”
Milo sighed and patted the barkeep’s shoulder. “Robert, Robert, Robert.”
Gabray flinched with each mention of his name. “What?”
“That’s not much of a story.”
Gabray ground out his cigarette and produced another. He waited for Milo to light it and when that didn’t happen, pulled out a book of matches and did it himself.
“I seen her maybe one more time,” he said. “That’s it. I only worked there a couple of weeks.”
“Trouble holding down a job, Robert?”
“I like to move around, man.”
“A ramblin’ guy.”
“Whatever.”
“Twice in a couple of weeks,” said Milo. “Sounds like she enjoyed the place.”
“Fuckheads,” said Gabray with sudden passion. “All a them, rich dumb fucks, coming down to play street-life, then running back to Rodeo Drive.”
“Dawn Herbert come across as a rich bitch?”
“They’re all the same, man.”
“Ever talk to her?”
Alarm in the barkeep’s eyes. “Nah. Like I said, I only seen her once, maybe twice. That’s it. I didn’t know her from shit — I had nothing to do with her and nothing to do with that.” Pointing at the photo.
“You’re sure about that.”
“Real sure. Really real sure, man. That is not my thing.”
“Tell me about seeing her with this guy.”
“Like I said, once upon a time I was working there and once upon a time I went to take a smoke and seen her. Only reason I remembered was ’cause a the guy. He wasn’t one a them.”
“One of who?”
“The fuckheads. She was, but not him. He, like, stood out.”
“Stood out how?”
“Straight.”
“Businessman?”
“Nah.”
“What then?”
Gabray shrugged.
“Was he wearing a suit, Robert?”
Gabray smoked hard and thought. “Nah. Kinda like you — Sears Roebuck, that kind of jacket.” Drawing his hands across his waist.
“A windbreaker?”
“Yeah.”
“What color?”
“I dunno — dark. It was a long—”
“Time ago,” said Milo. “What else was he wearing?”
“Pants, shoes, whatever. He looked like you.” Smile. Smoke.
“In what way?”
“I dunno.”
“Heavyset?”
“Yeah.”
“My age?”
“Yeah.”
“My height?”
“Yeah.”
“Same hair as me?”
“Yeah.”
“You have two dicks?”
“Ye — Huh?”
“Cut the crap, Robert. What was his hair like?”
“Short.”
“Bald or a full head?”
Gabray frowned and touched his own bare dome. “He had hair,” he said grudgingly.
“Beard or mustache?”
“I dunno. It was far.”
“But you don’t remember any facial hair?”
“No.”
“How old was he?”
“I dunno — fifty, forty, whatever.”
“You’re twenty-nine and he was much older than you?”
“Eight. Next month I’m twenty-nine.”
“Happy birthday. He was older than you?”
“A lot older.”
“Old enough to be your father?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Nah — not old enough. Forty, forty-five.”
“Hair color?”
“I dunno — brown.”
“Maybe or definitely?”
“Probably.”
“Light or dark brown?”
“I dunno. It was nighttime.”
“What color was her hair?”
“You got the picture there.”
Milo shoved the photo in the barkeep’s face. “Is this what she looked like when you saw her?”
Gabray pulled back and licked his lips. “Uh-uh — it was... her hair was different.”
“Sure it was,” said Milo. “It was sitting on an intact skull.”
“Yeah — no — I mean the color. You know, yellow. Real yellow — like scrambled eggs. You could see it in the light.”
“She was under a light?”
“I guess... yeah. The two a them were — a streetlight. Just for a sec, till they heard me and split.”
“You didn’t tell the other detectives about any light.”
“They didn’t ask.”
Milo lowered the picture. Gabray smoked and looked away.
Milo said, “What were Ms. Herbert and this straight-looking guy doing under the light?”
“Talking.”
“His hair wasn’t blond?”
“I told you, hers was. You could see it, man — it was like a... banana.” Gabray chuckled.
“And his was brown.”
“Yeah. Hey, if this is so important, how come you’re not writing it down?”
“What else do you remember about him, Robert?”
“That’s it.”
“Middle-aged, dark windbreaker, dark hair. That’s not much to trade with, Robert.”
“I’m telling you what I saw, man.”
Milo turned his back on Gabray and looked at me. “Well, we tried to help him.”
“You got someone, like tight?” said the bartender.
Milo kept his back turned. “What do you mean, Robert?”
“Tight case, man. I don’t want to be telling you something and have some dude walk on some Miranda or something and come looking for me, you know?”