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“No. Slept in, then me and my guy went to this gallery in SoHo. He likes the galleries. Had a late lunch, did some shopping.”
“Did anyone from the bar contact you today?”
“No. And that happens, sure, now and again. But not today. First time my ’link rang, it was Roarke. Quirk and I had a quiet day.”
“Have you had any trouble with anyone? You personally, or at the bar?”
“Nothing, really. I mean, our neighbor gave me some grief a couple weeks ago. We had a party and he said we were too loud. He’s an asshole. Even his wife can’t stand him.”
“What’s his name?”
“Oh man, he’s just an asshole neighbor.”
“I need to take care of the people who died today, Mr. Lester. So I talk to asshole neighbors.”
He gave her the name, the address, then stared down at his hands. “I’m sorry about before. I didn’t give you respect.”
“You lost friends today. Let’s both respect them, and that’s enough.”
“What should I do?” He looked from Eve to Roarke. “I have to tell the rest of the crew. Should I go talk to them in person? I don’t think this is something I can tell the rest of my people over the ’link. And the families. I’ve got to tell … Jesus, Drew still lives at home with his parents. He’s just a kid.”
“We’re notifying the families,” Eve told him. “Leave that to us.”
“You should go home, Devon.” The quiet tone of Roarke’s voice brought Devon’s gaze back to him. “You’ll want to talk to the rest of your people tomorrow. Do you want me to arrange for Bidot to go with you?”
“I’ll take Quirk. They all know him, and they don’t know Bidot so well. If that’s okay.”
“Whatever you think best. If you need anything from me,” Roarke told him, “you can contact me directly. How did you get here?”
“What? Sorry?”
“How did you come to Central?”
“The subway.”
“I’ll have a car take you home. You’ll have a car,” Roarke insisted before Devon could protest. “At the main entrance. And you’ll have one tomorrow to take you where you and Quirk need to go.”
“Thanks.”
“They were my people, too.”
“Yes, sir. I guess they were.”
Eve let Devon out, said nothing as Roarke made arrangements for transportation. She just sat across from him until he was done.
“I don’t have to ask you your take this time,” she said.
“Then I’ll ask you yours.”
“You may not like it.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“He knows everyone there. We both know managing people means those people can piss you off—hit buttons, cause frustration.”
“So you solve that by poisoning them all with the goal of mass murder? That’s bollocks, Eve.”
“I’ve done a run on him. He’s married to Quirk McBane, an art teacher. Looks clean and tidy.”
