Loo watched Albert take what was in the moose head and put it in his pocket. He thanked the bartender, a woman as beautiful as any could be in the red light of the room, her skin a delicate white, eyes like dark stars, neutrons sucking in the light. She wore a bandage over her nose, some kind of surgery Loo was sure. Loo was also glad the bartender hadn’t fallen as she balanced on the bar and reached in the taxidermal mouth, pulling out a white slip of paper that had been shoved far back on the tongue of the moose. The dumbfounded look on her face as Albert explained they were on the trail of a missing woman named Joanna made Loo crack a morose smile. He set his copy of Narcopolis upside-down on a barstool, careful not to lose the page where he’d kept the photo. Then he showed the bartender the image. Had she seen Joanna? Maybe she was a regular customer? Or a friend? The bartender seemed about the same age. Loo thought she saw a hint of light in the bartender’s eyes but they darkened as soon as they flashed. No, the bartender told them. She wanted to know about the cops. Should she call them? She wanted to know about the people in the room watching them. A bald man drinking a jack and sour had quickly left. She told them he seemed shifty. Was this a game? Had someone put the note there? “Fuck the cops,” Eric butted in. Albert quickly left the bar and everyone followed.