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“None I know of. Was Ledo in your place last night?”
“Playing pool. Maybe a round of Sexcapades. His eyes are about shot, and he can’t keep his hands steady, but he’s still got an instinct with a cue. If he ditched the junk, he could ride the cue to a good life.”
He paused when the redhead—Vivi, Eve assumed—wheeled out a silver coffee cart.
“At your service, baby.”
“Vivi here services private shuttles.”
“On and off planet,” Vivi added, and handed Carmine a big white cup with a brown sugar stirrer. “How would you like yours?” She smiled easily at Eve and Peabody.
“Just black,” Eve told her.
“I take coffee regular,” Peabody said. “Thanks.”
Vivi poured, doctored Peabody’s. “You need me to go?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Eve said before Carmine spoke. “Did Ledo have any trouble at your place—last night, or recently?”
“Ledo works hard to avoid trouble. If he smells it coming, he runs. It’s the funk and the junk that’ll kill him.”
“Actually, it was a pool cue.”
“What?” Carmine looked over the rim of his wide cup as Eve took hers from Vivi. “Ledo? Dead?”
“Since shortly after six this morning.”
“Did somebody go after him on his way from my place to his flop? He couldn’t have had that much on him. I have to check the feed.”
“I want a copy of your feed.”
Carmine looked back at Eve—she saw the protest in his eyes. Then he swore under his breath, pushed up. He crossed over to a house ’link.
“Who’s Ledo?” Vivi asked Eve.
“Small-time illegals dealer with a talent for pool currently on a slab at the morgue.”
Vivi shook her head. “I don’t know why peo
ple go around killing people. Life’s short enough, isn’t it? I’m sorry, Carmine,” she added as he came back over. “He was a friend of yours?”
“Not really, no. Just a Gametown regular. I’m having a copy of last night’s security feed sent to you at Central.”
“That’ll work.”
“If you’re looking at me for it, I’ve got one alibi here.” He sat again, ran a hand over Vivi’s bare leg when she sat on the low arm beside him. “And another still warming the bed. Security here will show me coming in this morning—right around five-thirty.”
“Okay. Do you know if anyone’s been hanging around, asking about him? Anybody new getting tight with him?”
“Nobody was tight with Ledo. He had some regulars who played with him, and he did his business—most of that in the tunnels, to keep it off the feed in case of a sweep. I never heard anybody get riled at him. Not seriously. Some of the female gamers might tell him to piss off when he’d try to do a come-on—but nothing ugly. I can’t see anybody beating him to death with a pool cue, and I know for a fact it didn’t happen in my place.”
Eve let his assumption of beaten to death ride. “Do you know where he lived?”
“A couple blocks from Gametown—and above. I’m not sure exactly, just it was close. He said something about it, or I heard. He lived in the Square.”
“Okay.” Eve set her cup down. “We appreciate the cooperation.”
“Did he have family?”
