I held up my hand. “Don’t sweat it. We’re not here to bust you.”
This seemed to calm Legs down considerably. He nodded vigorously, practically bowing at the waist in his seat. “Cool. Thanks. Cool. Well, so I catch the drift that this dude was saying he had this girl and not to call the cops-”
“Did you catch anything about money?” Bailey asked.
Legs sniffed and used a paper napkin to wipe his nose. I wondered whether the nose ring got in the way when he had a cold. I decided not to ponder that question.
“Nah, I guess I just caught the tail end of it. Reason I noticed, though, was the girl. You know, the one whose picture was just on the news? She came into the café while he was typing. Real pretty. Dude seemed pissed that she was there.”
“What made him seem pissed?” Bailey asked. “Did he grab her? Yell at her?”
“No, nothing like that. He just seemed, I don’t know…annoyed? He didn’t let her sit down. Soon as she showed up, he packed up his laptop and they left.”
“Did he hold on to her arm? Push her?” I asked.
Legs looked off to the left. “Not that I remember. And tell you the truth, I didn’t think much of the whole deal. Seemed like a goof. The only reason I called you guys was because of the news flash about the girl.”
“So she didn’t look scared or upset?” I asked.
“Not to me. I mean, she wasn’t laughing her ass off or anything. But she didn’t look freaked.”
“Do you think you’d recognize the guy if I showed you a photo?” Bailey asked.
Legs shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt to try.”
Bailey pulled up Brian’s photo on her cell and held it in front of Legs.
He gave the photo a hard look, then nodded. “Yeah, that’s the dude. No question.”
“Thank you, Legs,” I said. Bailey took his contact information and we stood to leave.
“So I assume the girl’s been kidnapped,” he said.
“Not necessarily,” I semi-lied.
“But you’d appreciate it if I didn’t say anything about this conversation, wouldn’t you?”
The abrupt shift caught me off guard. I looked at him for a long moment. This was pretty savvy for any civilian, let alone the pierced counterculture specimen in front of me. “I can’t stop you from talking, but yeah, it wouldn’t hurt if you’d keep it to yourself.”
“Got it.”
We started to leave, but I turned back, too curious to let it go. “You said you had a class on Monday that got out at four o’clock. What class was that?”
“Not a class exactly. More like a weekly consultation. I’m finishing my Ph.D. in neuroscience.”
