“I guess,” Kate offered. “We’ve got a body in the dumpster across the road.”
The woman snorted. “Seriously? Again?”
At that, Kate’s eyebrows shot up. “What do you mean byagain?”
“Seems like every couple years one is found over there,” she noted.
“Looks like a popular place, but with whom?”
“Everybody. Everybody who doesn’t want to have anything to do with anybody,” the woman replied.
“Explain what you mean by that,” Kate said.
“The area’s run-down. Anybody who’s here doesn’t really want to be here, but there are limitations as to how far anybody can go in this world, without some help.”
“Why are you still here?” Kate asked.
“Because it’s a job,” she stated simply. “I get to eat for free while I’m here, and it pays the bills.” She shrugged. “Nobody will hassle me. I’m well past being a looker, and, honest to God, most people are just grateful when they come in that they can get a cup of coffee.”
“How is the coffee here?”
“It sucks, but, at two o’clock in the morning, when you’re looking for coffee, you really don’t care. It’s a hot drink, and, on this rainy morning, people don’t really give a shit. They just want access to something.”
Kate studied the older woman, whose hair hung in thinning lengths down her head. It looked like she was balding early, whatever red hair she may have had was a more carroty orange, and her skull showed through. Her apron was dirty, but her hands appeared clean, and, although tired and worn-out, she looked like she could manage most verbally ugly clients. But there was nothing to her, if the customers became violent. The woman couldn’t have had more than 110 pounds on her frame, and she looked more like an old junkie street worker, who couldn’t find any more business because of her age.
“What was your clientele like last night?” Kate asked.
“The usual,” the woman said, studying Rodney. “A few came in—a couple girls, a couple guys. A few people grabbed some ready-made sandwiches. Other than that, it was pots of coffee and not a whole lot else. Matter of fact, last night was on the quiet side. The boss won’t be happy.” She chewed on her bottom lip and then shrugged, with an almost philosophical attitude, as if to say nothing she could do about it.
“If the boss isn’t happy, then what?”
“Hard to say,” she replied. “He’s been threatening to shut it down for a long time just because there’s not enough business to justify keeping it open.”
“I guess it’s a numbers game, isn’t it?” Rodney agreed sympathetically.
“It sure is,” she muttered, “and my numbers say, I need to keep working to pay the rent. So, if this shuts down, it’s not in my favor either. So I sure as hell didn’t have anything to do with any trouble.”
“Do you know anybody who would have? Any unsavory folks who came in last night who might have had something to do with the dead body in the dumpster?”
“No.” She shook her head. “All kinds of unsavory players are around here, but nobody I know of is into murder.”
“Right.” Kate frowned. “No cameras and you can’t ID anybody who came in after midnight?”
“I didn’t say that,” she corrected, looking over at Kate. “I didn’t say anything along that line.”
“Excuse me. My mistake. Can you identify anybody who was here?”
She frowned. “I’m not sure I can, but I didn’t say I couldn’t.”
“Okay, I’m confused.”
“Well, you didn’t ask,” she explained, “so I didn’t offer any information.”
“Right.” Kate tried to figure out this woman. “So, can you identify anybody who came in?”
“Sure. I mean, Louise was here. Sandy was here. Big Tom was here.” Her face crumpled up. “And that psycho was here, Little Mitt.”
“Little Mitt?”