Maier broke all the local rules and ordered a vodka orange, his preferred poison.
“Hey, I’m looking for the Insomniacs Club.”
The little man pushed the glass across the gleaming teak counter and eyed him without great interest.
“Who’s asking?”
“My name is Maier. I’m a friend of Julia Rendel. Of TreeLine.”
“She’s not here.”
“I know she’s not in town. But she asked me to drop by the Red Bar and find her friend Léon. Or ask for the Insomniacs Club. But you’re not Léon?”
The barman registered Maier properly. The joint might have been red but its manager was decidedly North American.
“Can’t place your f*****g accent, dude. You German as well?”
The detective nodded, keeping his eyes to himself.
“Maier, from Hamburg. Professional traveler. Mostly harmless.”
“Vincent Laughton. Pleased t
