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COFFEE AND A BYTE.
It was hardly more than a hole in the wall. Ten tables fitted with low-end units. Counter service for six. But the coffee smelled fresh and the floors were clean.
The counter was manned by a droid of the fresh-faced, geek variety. His hair was styled to fall in a pointed brown flap across his forehead.
Two of the tables were occupied by the same type in human form, and the waitress was young and too perky not to be another automation.
“Hi! Welcome to Coffee and a Byte. Would you like a table?”
She had poofy blonde hair and lips the color of bubblegum. Her breasts were like two ripe melons that peeked rosily out of the bodice of her snug white top.
Eve imagined the geeks had nightly wet dreams with her name on them.
“I need to ask you some questions. Both of you.”
The waitress, Bitsy according to her name tag, replied, “Everything’s on the menu, including specials, but either Tad or I will be really happy to explain anything.”
Bitsy and Tad. Eve shook her head. Jesus, who thought of this shit?
“Sit down, Bitsy.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not supposed to sit. Would you like to hear about today’s coffee beverage?”
“No.” Eve pulled out her badge. “This is a police investigation, and I have to ask you some questions.”
“We’re programmed to cooperate fully with the police and security, the fire, the health, and the emergency medical departments.” This was from Tad, who whisked his flap of hair back with his fingers.
“That’s good.” She sensed movement and shifted to point at the thin-shouldered man who was trying to slide invisibly from behind his table. “There’s no trouble here,” she told him. “Just questions. Why don’t you sit back down, relax? You might be able to answer some of them.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Good. Keep not doing anything,” she advised.
She turned back to the droids, but kept her body angled so the tables knew she had them in her scope. “You know what happened across the street? The woman who died?”
“Oh yeah.” Tad brightened, a student with the answer for the teacher. “She got tossed out the window.”
“There you go.” Eve took the photo of Bryna Bankhead, laid it on the counter. “Did she ever come in here?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Don’t call me ma’am.”
He blinked rapidly at that, trying to process. “I’m supposed to call female customers ma’am.”
“I’m a cop, not a customer.” Except . . . She sniffed the air. “Is that real coffee?”
“Oh yes . . .” His face underwent several expressions, ended up baffled.
“Lieutenant,” Eve said helpfully.
“Oh yes, Lieutenant. We serve only genuine soy products, with or without caffeine additives.”
“Never mind.” She held up the photo so both men at the tables could see it. “Either of you ever see this woman?”
The one who’d tried to slither out the door shifted in his seat. “I guess I did. I didn’t do anything.”
“We got that part. Where’d you see her?”
