“Hey, J. J., Tony here thinks I’m a babe.”

“Man’s got good taste,” Rogan said, keeping his attention fixed on Jake Myers.

“Yeah, we’re about done. I just need to know whether you remember seeing this girl last night.” Ellie showed him the photograph of Chelsea, monitoring him closely for his reaction.

Despite his seeming indifference, Russo took a good look at the picture. No nervousness. No evasiveness. Same breezy, cocky demeanor.

He tapped the photograph a few times with his index finger. “Yeah, yeah, I remember her. Go Hoosiers. She was a real babe. Not as good as you, of course.”

“Did you talk to her at all?”

“Nah. I got a girl. She’s out of town, but I’m not stupid, you know?”

“Not even on a night out with Nick?”

“Not even. Altar boy. Can’t you tell?”

Actually, Ellie could.

“So, who was she with?”

Now, for the first time, she did sense a change in Russo’s easygoing manner. His smile fell as his brow furrowed.

“Seriously, what’s going on? I just want to get out of here.”

“This girl was murdered last night.”

“Ah, Jesus. Nick, did you hear this, man? One of those Indiana chicks last night-”

“Hey,” Ellie said, “I can’t have you guys talking to each other right now. Talk to me,” she said, pointing to herself. “No one’s accusing anyone. I just need to know who this girl was talking to last night.”

“Everyone, man. I don’t know. She was toasted, you know? Partying. Getting her freak on.”

“Did she talk to Nick?”

“That’s bullshit. It wasn’t like that. She wasn’t talking to anyone. She was just dancing and hanging out-with anyone and everyone.”

“So she was dancing and hanging out with Nick?”

Russo shook his head in frustration, apparently finding Ellie considerably less babe-ish now. “Yeah, fine,” he said, lowering his voice, “she was dancing with Nick. But she was also dancing with Jake. And our buddy Tom. And some other dude-um, Patrick, another friend of Nick’s.”

“But she didn’t dance with you.”

“No, but that’s only because I don’t dance. Seriously, it wasn’t what you’re thinking. She wasn’t with anyone. That’s how Nick nights are. Girls come in for the free booze and to be our eye candy for the night. No one’s looking for a girlfriend.”

“Not even for one night?”

Russo didn’t respond.

“When you left, did you leave alone?”

“I told you. Altar boy.”

“I didn’t mean with another woman. I want to know if you saw your friends leave.”

“I don’t like where this is going. My friends are decent guys.”

“Then you shouldn’t mind telling me who left and when.”

“You just don’t get it,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t take this the wrong way. I’m not trying to be a prick, but I don’t want to say anything that’s gonna bite one of my boys in the ass. I want a lawyer, like that Cardozo chick said.”

Great. The model had not only invoked her own rights, but had done so loudly enough for Tony Russo to get an introductory lesson about his own.

Ellie turned to check on Rogan. With the pace of the last thirty minutes, this had been her first opportunity to take a look at Jake Myers, who was trendier than his preppy friends. He was about six feet tall. Thin. Dark brown hair. He had an interesting face-long and narrow with a prominent chin and sleepy eyelids. He reminded Ellie of someone. She was just about to put her finger on it when she heard a high-pitched female voice behind her.

“That’s him. That’s the guy who looks like Jake Gyllenhaal.”

CHAPTER 17

“HOW MANY TIMES do I have to tell you?” Jake Myers’s voice was strained. Twenty minutes in, and he was sticking by his story. “She told me she had an early flight and left the club before I did. I haven’t heard from her since.”

“What time did she leave?” Rogan asked.

“I don’t know. I remember that bitchy friend of hers coming by and trying to get her to leave right before.”

“Well, that bitchy friend just ID’d you as the last person to see Chelsea Hart alive. You might want to start coming up with specifics.”

Myers licked his lips nervously. “My guess is she left about half an hour after that, but I’m not sure. It was a late night, and I wasn’t checking my watch.”

“Did you walk her out?”

“No. She left by herself, as far as I could tell.”

“Were you outside of the club with her at all?” Rogan asked.

“No.”

“Not at any point?”

“I told you, we were just dancing and hanging out.”

“When did you leave?”

“Late. Ask Nick. He was with me.”

“Anyone else leave with you?”

“No, just me and Nick.”

“Here’s the problem with that, Jake. Nick’s not talking. Neither is your friend Tony Russo.”

Myers had a hard time hiding the slight smile. “Well, I don’t have any control of that, do I? We left at closing time, so I’m assuming it was four, but sometimes the clubs go a little later if they don’t think they’ll get caught. Like I said-”

Rogan completed the sentence for him: “You weren’t checking your watch. Did anything happen between you and Chelsea before she left?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. Single guy. Hot girl. Flirting. Did anything come of that?”

“No, man. I was just dancing with her.”

“You didn’t have any sexual contact at all?” Rogan was making sure to lock down all of Jake’s various denials, no ambiguities to exploit down the road if they caught him in a lie.

“No. I kissed her-not even, just a peck-when she left. That was it.”

“And no drugs?”

“I told you. I could tell she was drunk, but I didn’t take any drugs. I didn’t give her any drugs. And I didn’t see her with any drugs.”

Ellie interrupted. “Her friend says you were pretty eager to have Chelsea stick around. You didn’t want her to leave.”

“We were having a good time. Did I think maybe it was going somewhere? Sure, but when she said she had to go, she had to go. No means no, right?”

“Not always,” she said.

“It does with me. There’s always another girl.”

“Was there one last night?” Ellie asked.

“No,” Jake said quietly, some of the attitude falling into line.

“All right. Let me talk to my partner for a second,” Rogan said. He waved Ellie to the front of the office, and she followed. “What do you think?”

“I think he’s lying.”

“Well, he’s not coming up with any details.” Innocent people tended to have excellent memories when it came time to account for their whereabouts.

“And I’m not buying all that indignation. Fear? Nervousness? That’s what I would understand from him right now. But he’s so put out by half an hour of conversation?”

“That’s ’cause lying is hard work.”

“And we know he’s lying about the drugs. It’s too much of a coincidence that Chelsea had meth in her system, and we just happen to catch these guys hooking up a girl with meth through Rodriguez.”

“But Rodriguez wasn’t working last night.”

“Doesn’t matter. If he’s dealing out of the club, then he’s probably working with someone else who supplies on his days off. These clubs have more drugs going in and out of them than a Duane Reade. A club can’t be known as a place to score unless they’ve got every night covered. And if Myers is lying about the meth-”

“Then he’s also lying about the girl leaving alone, him leaving without a girl, and everything being Doris Day innocent.”

“Otherwise his friends would back him up,” Ellie said. “Instead, they invoke, and he’s sitting pretty. He’s rolling the dice that we don’t have enough to hold them. The minute we cut them loose, they’ll get together and line up their stories.”

“Not exactly a high-stakes bet,” Rogan said. “No PC for the murder, and the ADA will shoot us down on material witness warrants.”

“So let’s give Mr. Myers what he wants. Let’s go ahead and spring him.”

“So he can get his buddy Nick to vouch that they left together?”