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He huffed out a breath, adjusted his stance, leaned over until his face was only inches away.
“Hasn’t had his eyes fixed in over a year,” the boy said.
“My ears work. Go finish stocking. This one. Trouble.”
He jabbed the stubby finger on Shelby’s face.
“She steals. I tell her she can’t come in here no more, but she sneaks. I go over, talk to the lady, and she is polite. She gives me fifty dollars and says she is sorry, she will speak to this girl and the others. She is gracious, and it is better for a little while. This girl.”
Eve’s eyes narrowed as he pointed at Linh Penbroke.
“Are you sure?”
“She is dressed like a bad girl, but she has good family. It shows. I remember her because she didn’t steal, and she paid for what this one, the bad one, took.”
“They were together? These two?”
“Late, near when I close.”
“Was this before or after the group next door left the building?”
“After, but not long. I know this because I thought I would not be troubled by this one again, but she came back. I tell her get out, and she gives me the rude finger. But the other girl pays, and she says, ‘Sorry,’ in our language. This is polite, it is respectful. I remember her. She is dead?”
“Yes, they both are.”
“She has good family?”
The polite girl, the good family, made a difference to him, Eve noted. And used it.
“Yes, she does. Good parents, a brother and a sister who looked for her, and hoped, all these years, to find her. She
made a mistake, Mr. Pak, and shouldn’t have died for it. Was anyone with them?”
“I can’t say. I only remember they come in, before I close. I remember because this one gives me so much trouble, and this one is Korean, and is respectful.”
“Did they talk to each other? Do you remember anything they said, if they were meeting anyone, going somewhere?”
“Girls chattering is like birds.” He fluttered his fingers at his ears. “You hear only the notes.”
“Okay, how about the others? Did they come in here?”
“I can’t say,” he repeated. “They come in, go out. These two only I remember.”
“This one.” She tapped a finger on Shelby’s picture. “Who else did she come in with? Who did you see her hanging with?”
“Most times with little black girl, big”—he held out his hands to indicate a hefty build—“white girl. Skinny boy, too, brown boy. The black girl sings with a voice like . . .” He struggled, called out something in Korean to his now sulky counter boy.
“Angels.”
“Yes, like angels. But she steals. They all steal. Are they all dead?”
“I don’t know. Thanks for your help.”
“You’ll do what you said. More cop?”
“Yeah, I’ll do what I said.”
She walked out, strode over to the building, bypassed the police seal.
