Show Time by Suzanne Trauth Page B

wondering if you were able to pinpoint the time of death?” I asked quickly.
    â€œWhy?” he asked warily.
    â€œI was gone by eleven-thirty. Only Lola and Walter were still there. I just wondered . . .”
    â€œBetween about three a.m. and five a.m.,” he said. “Anyway, sometime before six a.m.”
    â€œWhen the garbage men discovered his body,” I said. “Chief Thompson, did the police take a computer out of Jerome’s room?”
    â€œNo. Why?” he asked again.
    â€œNo reason.”
    â€œSorry to cut this short, but I have an appointment.” Chief Thompson rose and picked up his jacket. “You’ve been a big help.”
    â€œThanks, Chief.”
    â€œBill,” he said.
    â€œOh, okay. Then it’s Dodie.”
    â€œYou’ll let me know if you have any other ideas?” he said.
    â€œSure.”
    His lip turned up at one corner in what was becoming a recognizable facial tic. He wanted to smile but controlled himself. “I admire your ingenuity.”
    I wondered if he’d still feel the same way once Suki Shung had visited Sadlers.
    * * *
    In my back booth, Pauli was creating a menu page for the website, choosing fonts and graphics and arranging the layout. I set him up with a plate of nachos and a large Coke. He ate and typed and grinned at me from time to time. I envied the simplicity of Pauli’s life. Of course, being a teenager was no piece of cake either. I remember battling my parents about my clothes and boyfriends and staying out past my curfew.
    â€œDo you have a logo?” Pauli asked.
    I popped up from behind the bar, where I was unpacking a carton of cabernet. “A logo for the restaurant? Do we need one?”
    â€œYeah, like something for the home page. A picture of something.”
    â€œHow about a picture of the front of the restaurant? Would that do?”
    Pauli nodded. “That works.”
    He ambled out the door, crossed the street in front of the Windjammer, and proceeded to take shot after shot on his digital camera.
    â€œWe’re going to have a Web presence,” Benny said and smiled as he watched Pauli, standing, kneeling, and catching the restaurant from different angles as though he were a fashion photographer.
    â€œIt’s about time. Hey, have you checked the schedule for the weekend?” I had rearranged a few evening hours to accommodate my dropping in at the ELT.
    â€œYep. Looks good. I can cover Friday night. Hey, what are you going to do over there?” he asked.
    â€œNot sure. Organize things once rehearsals start. The place could use some shaping up. ”
    â€œJerome’s murder probably doesn’t help.”
    â€œBenny, let me ask you something. Did Jerome ever strike you as a flashy guy? You know, money to burn?”
    â€œJerome? No way. He told me he lived on a modest pension and Social Security. One time, he was invited to take a trip to Europe with a group from the theater and he couldn’t afford it. I kind of felt sorry for him. I liked him.”
    â€œMe too.”
    Pauli loped back in the door. “Got some good ones,” he said and brushed the hair off his face. “Hey, you know what you need?”
    I shook my head.
    â€œAn email address so people can make reservations online.”
    â€œGreat idea. The last place I worked had that capability.”
    â€œOkay. I can do that.”
    â€œWill we need a password?”
    â€œYeah, but I can set something up.”
    Those little dancing hairs started to tingle. The mystery woman might have contacted Jerome through email and it’s probable he had an account—Lola said the ELT often sent out messages to its membership. Though no computer was found in his room, the library was available and he was known to have visited there. If I could find his email address . . .
    â€œPauli, how hard would it be to check someone’s email?” I asked on impulse.
    â€œNo