Serpent’s Tooth

“A big no-no,” Marissa interjected. “You have trouble with a patron, you’re supposed to report it to the manager and let her deal with it.”

“Any idea why Harlan decided to handle the matter?”

“He probably just had it up to here with rich dicks.” Benedict looked upward. “You get tired of being pushed around.”

Marissa said, “Robin must have heard all the commotion. She came charging in … it was real intense.”

“Is Robin the restaurant’s manager?”

“Yeah,” Benedict said. “She just … started in on Harlan, told him to pack his bags and leave. That was that.”

Decker was skeptical. “Harlan left without a fight?”

“Nothing physical,” Marissa said. “But Harlan and Robin exchanged a few choice words. He was really mad. But she didn’t have to call the cops or anything like that.”

“Was this the only time either of you had ever seen Harlan explode?”

“Harlan was impulsive,” Marissa said. “Did what suited him.”

The servers exchanged brief glances. Decker’s eyes darted between Marissa and Benedict. “What’s going on?”

Marissa looked down. “I went out with him a couple of times. Nothing big. Just a drink after work.”

Silence.

Marissa’s eyes watered. “I had no idea he was …”

“Of course not,” Decker soothed. “Tell me about him, Marissa.”

“Nothing to tell. I thought he was kind of cute.”

Decker looked at Harlan’s corpse, now being worked on by Forensics. It lay some ten feet from the entrance to the bar, resting faceup, eyes open, mouth agape, arms splayed outward, legs bent at the knees. The complexion had taken on a grayish hue, but once it had probably been mocha-colored. Skin that showed wear and tear. Not craggy, but wrinkles about the eyes and mouth. Dark eyes, black hair, a broad nose and strong chin. Latino mixed with a hint of Native American. Looked to be around six feet. Well-proportioned.

“He seems like he could have been a very sexy guy.” He homed in on Marissa’s red cheeks. “Maybe we should talk in private?”

Marissa averted her gaze. “It was nothing serious. Does it really matter?”

“I was just wondering if maybe you were the intended target?”

The girl turned pale.

“No way,” Benedict said. “If he was after anyone here, it would have been Robin.” His voice dropped to a shadow. “And she’s dead, isn’t she?”

Decker nodded. The young man just shook his head. Marissa had tears in her eyes.

“We were never serious, Lieutenant. Honest. He was just studdin’ around. Harlan did a lot of that.”

“A lot of what?”

“Messin’ around. I wasn’t even his real girlfriend.”

Decker sat up. “Who was his real girlfriend?”

“Rhonda Klegg,” Benedict said. “Used to come in here sometimes. Harlan would comp her drinks. Tequila. She could down shooters as fast as any guy I know.”

“Was she an alcoholic?”

Again they exchanged glances. Benedict said, “Well, she could get a little intense. But she kept it under control. I never saw them going at it in public.”

“Going at it?” Decker asked.

Marissa said, “Harlan would come in with a black eye every once in a while. I asked him about it, he laughed it off.” She studied her hands. “God only knows what she looked like.”

Decker said, “Did you ever see them fighting?”

“Not personally, no.”

“Is she also a wait … an actress?”

Benedict said, “Artist. She actually makes money in her chosen field. Got a great gig going. Paints pictures on the walls of rich people’s houses.”

“Murals?” Decker asked.

“No,” Marissa said. “She’ll paint a make-believe garden scene on a wall. There’s a word for it.”

“Trompe l’oeil,” Decker said.

“That’s it,” Marissa said. “Her apartment is full of her stuff. It’s real weird. She’s got the statue of David on the wall of her john.”

“You’ve been to her apartment?” Decker said. “With Harlan?”

Marissa turned bright red. “Well … just once.”

“Did she and Harlan live together?”

“No, Harlan has … had his own place. But he liked being bad … God, I feel like an idiot.” Marissa rubbed her face. “It seemed so harmless at the time.”

Rule number one. Fooling around is never harmless. Decker asked, “Did Harlan have a key to her place?”

Marissa nodded.

Decker became aware of his heartbeat. “Where does Rhonda live, Marissa?”

“The apartment was called the Caribbean. Third floor. It’s near Rinaldi. I could get you the address.”

“I’ll get it.” Decker looked at Benedict. “Anything else you want to add … something that might give us a clue to what went on?”

“Sorry, but I didn’t see a thing,” Benedict said. “When the shooting started, I ran for cover.”