Read Online Lowball: A Wild Cards Novel by George R. R. Martin, Melinda M. Snodgrass - Free Book Online Page A

the forensic artist,” Franny said. “He’s going to draw some sketches of the men you saw last night.”
    With some reluctance Lupo pulled his eyes off of Eddie and stared pleadingly at the detectives. “I tol’ you, it was dark. And I don’ remember stuff so good anymore.”
    Stevens gave Lupo something that Eddie figured was supposed to be a reassuring smile. “Mr. Carmichael is a professional, Lupo. He’ll help you to remember.” He looked sidewise at Eddie, his hard glance saying Right?
    Eddie froze for a moment, remembering those cold cop eyes looking over the barrel of a gun at him, then shook away the memory. “That’s, uh, that’s right.”
    “Well then.” Stevens stood. “I’ll leave you two to this oh-so-important case while I get back to some real detective work.” He looked pointedly at Franny. “If you need any help … don’t call me.” And then, without a backward glance, he left.
    Eddie swallowed, his heart rate slowing toward normal. There was something weird happening between the two detectives, but as far as Eddie was concerned, he felt like he’d dodged a bullet for the second time in twenty-four hours.
    Hauling himself up into a chair, Eddie unzipped his portfolio. He pulled out a sketchpad, a fat black 6B pencil, and a battered three-ring binder of reference images, but to begin with he just laid them all flat on the table. “There’s nothing magic about this process,” he said, beginning a spiel he’d used a hundred times. But this time he was trying to calm himself as much as the witness. “I’m going to ask you some questions, but you’ll be doing most of the talking. All right?”
    Lupo’s ears still lay flat against his head, but he nodded.
    “So, just to begin with … how many of them were there?”
    “Three, maybe four. They had this poor asshole with four legs all tied up carrying him toward a van. I only saw the front, couldn’t get no plate—”
    “Um, actually,” Franny interrupted, “he doesn’t need to know about the crime. That’s my department.”
    Eddie nodded an acknowledgment at the detective, then returned his attention to Lupo. “All I want to know is what they looked like.”
    A wrinkle appeared between Lupo’s eyebrows, and the pink tip of his tongue poked out. “Well, they were all guys … or really ugly women.” He smirked. “This one big guy seemed to be ordering the other ones around.”
    “Tell me about him.”
    Lupo spread his hands like he was describing the fish that got away. “Big.”
    Eddie sighed. “ How big? Six feet tall? Bigger?”
    “I dunno. Six four, maybe?” The lupine joker squeezed his eyes shut and clapped his hands over them, bending his head down. “I used to be good at this,” he muttered into the table’s scarred Formica. “When I was tending bar at the Crystal Palace, I knew every regular customer. What they liked, how they tipped, everything.”
    The name of the bar struck Eddie like a lightning bolt. “You tended bar at the Palace ?”
    Franny just looked at Eddie. He was a nat, so he couldn’t possibly understand how important the Crystal Palace was. Eddie himself could only dream of what the place had been like—he’d been only five when the place had burned in ’88—but here was someone who’d actually worked there!
    Lupo raised his muzzle from the table. “Yeah. I was the number two guy in the whole place—I was in charge whenever Elmo wasn’t there.”
    Eddie felt as though he were in the presence of one of the Founding Fathers … or, at least, the decrepit, wasted shell of one. “Did you know … Chrysalis?”
    Lupo’s leer was an amazing thing, the long black lip curling up to reveal an impressive array of discolored fangs. “Yeah, I knew her.” He sat up straighter, his eyes seeming to focus for once, though what they were focused on was something beyond the walls of the interrogation room. But after only a moment, he slumped in his chair again. “Not that she ever gave me