Sosa and Beth sat at the round table of New Asia, with the lazy susan spinning idly under his fingers.
“I’m sure that’s angering some Lazy Susan god.” Beth commented, and swirled the tea leaves in her small white cup. “You know, the chopstick gods, the rice gods, on and on.”
“My wife was telling me some murder mystery where they knew someone had died because chopsticks were standing straight up in a bowl of rice.”
“That gives me shivers.”
“You believe in the Rice Gods?”
“No, Chopstick Gods.” Beth said, then saw Mikey enter the restaurant and look around for them. “Uh-oh. I don’t think I want to be around for the scolding.” She left for the restroom.
Mikey settled into his seat and started grabbing dim sum from the little plates on the lazy susan.
“Didn’t you forget something?” Sosa asked.
Mike looked up at him. “What, was I supposed to bring something?”
“No, you were supposd to call me to go with you on your questioning of the, what, 5 suspects?”
Mike leaned back. “Fuck. I knew I forgot something.”
Sosa didn’t let him off the hook with a “It’s OK,” or “Next time.” He asked Mikey for the notes and flipped through them. “These are useless. ‘Norway guys.’ Names? Numbers? Geesh.”
Beth slid back into her chair. “Is the bloodbath over?”
Sosa sighed and Mikey kept his eyes down, eating his food.
“You know there’s one person not on the list.”
Sosa looked up from Mikey’s notes. “Who?”
“Well, we know that Socializr connects the victims, but what if the murderer isn’t an online person?”
“How did he know about these things, then?”
“He’s a lurker.” Beth said, and grabbed the last egg custard tart that she had been saving for desesrt.
Mikey and Sosa exchanged looks.
With food in her mouth she explained, “It’s like, you watch but don’t participate.”
Mikey put his chin on his hand. “You know, those two guys from Caffe Trieste were really quick to tell me they thought online dating was lame, no,” he looked up in the air above her head, “Pathetic, yeah, that’s the word.”
“How do you lurk online?” Sosa asked, and pointed at an egg tart plate at a nearby cart. The waitress plonked it on the table, stamped their receipt and quickly left.
“You create a profile, but never post or comment or anything.”
Next: Living Offline