The only unusual thing was the temperature. Most bars on a late-June night had the air conditioning cranked to a penguin’s comfort zone, but this place felt tropical.
A second oddity was that small bud vases filled with sprays of baby’s breath and soft-colored, tiny roses had been scattered along the length of the bar and on each side table. Really very pretty.
As I turned back to the board, Trinnie’s face jumped out from one of the photos. She sat at the bar, holding a plate of cake in her hand, a big grin spreading ear to ear. Behind her stood a bartender with a shock of dark hair contrasting starkly with his white t-shirt. The woman sitting next to Trinnie stared directly into the camera, glass raised in salute. She had big hair and lots of make-up plastered on. With a little fringe and a sad song, I could picture her singing country western.
I peeked around to see if I could nab the picture off the wall, but found myself being eyed by a different bartender.
This one, a twiggy girl who could barely see over the top of the bar counter, sported a cute bee-shaped nametag: Aimee. Beth, clutching a glass of something clear with a lime floating on top, chatted with her. I joined them.
“Hi!” Aimee chirped. She was quite a perky little thing. “What can I get you tonight?”
“Um…How about a Diet Coke or whatever?”
“Coming right up.”
As she moved off toward the soda guns, a trickle of sweat ran down the middle of my back. No use fooling myself, it wasn’t from the heat. Likewise, Beth’s face glistened with nervous sweat. I grinned weakly at her and after Aimee plunked my glass down in front of me, raised it in toast.
“Skol,” I mumbled.
“My stomach is doing flips. How are you?”
” Let’s move down the bar to the other end. I need a better view of the place.”
“Shit,” Beth groused, as we moved down the bar. “I’m so flustered I almost forgot what we’re doing here. You find anything on the bulletin board?”
“A picture of Trinnie at some kind of party. Easter, maybe. Anyway, it confirms she hung out here. It doesn’t necessarily mean she was a regular; she was sitting next to another woman, who may have been the focus of the shot. Hard to tell.”
“Let me see the photo of you and her again. I need to focus.”
I dug in my purse, and handed it over to Beth. She stared at it for a while, nursing her club soda. Then, she got up and walked back to the bulletin board. I went to check out the empty back room. It was even hotter than the front. Other than a couple of sign-up posters for a dart league, the room lacked decorations. I didn’t know what I was looking for, anyway. Something that said “Clue #1,” maybe.
Feeling jittery, I returned to my stool. Aimee had set us up with a bowl of nuts and pretzels. Nice. Actually, the place was nothing like I’d expected.
Beth joined me, and began nervously tossing peanuts into her mouth. Swiveling, she placed her back to the gleaming racks of bottles behind her. She scanned the bar carefully, as if seeing it for the first time.
“Are you sure you’re going to be all right?” The glare I got in return added heat to the sultry surroundings.
“It’s getting more crowded,” Beth said. “Do you recognize anyone? Who should we start with?”
“I don’t know. Trinnie may not have been referring to anyone at this place. She couldn’t have been here that long. Easter was at the beginning of April this year, right? So, a couple months, maybe. I guess we should keep our eyes open for Big Dude, especially. Maybe Twink, Big Mouth, and Endora. Although it sounds like Endora drinks at a place starting with a ‘T,’ since that’s where Trinnie got kicked out. Can you think of anyone I missed?”
“Nope,” Beth said through a mouthful of bar nuts. “How about Lover Boy and Foxy? I figure once we know who Lover Boy is, we’ll find Saint Bitch. I’m sort of looking forward to meeting those two, in a soap opera kind of way.” Beth grinned wickedly, throwing her aim off, and sending a nut flying. It shot right into the head of the bartender passing behind us.
Definitely not Aimee.
Beth swung around with eyes the size of two eggs, sunny-side up. The guy standing before us was arresting, about six foot, with a precision-sculpted body. His biceps accented by the white, cotton t-shirt he’d tucked snugly into his jeans. With a start, I realized it might be him in the background of the photo with Trinnie. He picked up the offending peanut. I closed my eyes, and began to softly chant a prayer of gratitude that Beth had to deal with this guy, not me.
When I peeked, I found him facing us, arms braced straight against the bar edge. He dropped the nut in front of Beth. A tattoo of wicked-looking snakes twisted sinuously around each bicep. His other hand gripped a wrench, which did little to inspire peace of mind. His voice, when he finally spoke, sounded dark and dangerous—distant thunder on a hot, summer night.
“Does this belong to one of you ladies?” He slowly swung his gaze from me to Beth and back again. I pointed silently at Beth.
She rallied nicely. “Why, yes, I do seem to have misplaced one of these. Thank you kindly.” Beth as a sweet Southern belle took a little mental adjustment. I reached for my glass and slugged down some pop.
“I see,” he said. Although answering Beth, his eyes stayed on me. They too were striking—hazel with flecks of amber. “You appear to have misplaced it on my head. Was there something you needed?”
“As a matter of fact,” Beth replied, sweetly, “My friend here thought you were sexy. I was just trying to get your attention for her.”
Every molecule of moisture in my body relocated to my bladder.
He reached across the counter, extending his non-wrench-filled hand. “I’m Snake.”
He wasn’t wearing a bee-tag.
Beth grinned so wide I could have shoved a dinner plate into her mouth, sideways, without hitting either cheek. Tempting. Oh, so very tempting. Snake had yet to take his eyes off me. He seemed to realize it at the same time I did and gave the kind of head shake usually reserved for coming out of daydreams.
“I’m Violet,” I blurted. “I hate snakes.” Appalled at myself, I froze.
“We’ll have to work on that,” he said, smiling. “But in the meantime, you can call me Eli. And, for the record, I love violets.”
“Eli…Elijah?” Beth weighed back into the conversation. “From reptile to prophet? Quite a journey.”
“I get around. Can I get you another drink? Either of you?” His golden-hazel gaze settled on me like a warm blanket.
SEVEN
I nodded and handed him my empty glass. “Diet…” My voice cracked.
As he walked away, Beth turned on me like a tabloid-reporter let loose at a celebrity nudist beach. “Holy crap, the air is practically sizzling between you two.”
“What the hell were you thinking of telling that… that…”
“Man. The word you’re looking for is man. Good lord, did you see his arms? How long has it been since you met a real man, anyway? And I don’t mean the spineless saps I’ve heard about you dating at the club.”
“What the hell is in your drink? Geez! We come in here to find a murderer, and you’re trying to set me up with… with…”
“A man. Just say it once, it’ll come easier the next time. Come on. Say it with me: man.”
“I’ve gone out with a bunch of guys. And I assure you, they were all men.”
“Yeah, but those other guys are pale imitations of this one. I know who you’ve gone out with, courtesy of the grapevine, and none of them hold a candle to this stud. Am I right?”
“No,” I refused to admit anything. “I mean, Robert was intense. Kind of.”
“Not to speak ill of the dead, but the only thing intense about Robert was his hair care regimen.”
“Well… There was Marshall.”
Beth frowned. Apparently, the realization she didn’t know everything rankled. She grabbed another handful of nuts. “Marshall? Who’s that?”
“My boss. My former boss. And let me te
ll you, he was hot.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You dated your boss? That’s rather scandalous of you.”
“Um… Not exactly dated. But there was some serious flirting going on.” I nodded like a bobble-head. “Serious flirting.”
“Serious flirting.”
“Very serious.”
“So, why aren’t you still dating? Or, excuse me, flirting?”
“He… um… moved.”
She stopped chewing and stared at me blankly.
“To Colorado.”
Still blank.
“With his wife,” I admitted. “But he says they’re getting a divorce.”
She thunked her head on the bar, almost upending the peanut bowl.
“Okay, fine,” I conceded.“You might have a point. You aren’t making this any easier, you know?”
She lifted her head, grinning. “I wouldn’t dream of it, doll. This is so much more entertaining. Besides, I think you’ve got something to learn here. I’m just going to stand back out of the way, while your Higher Power gets busy. HP has a sense of humor, huh?”
“Bite me.”
“Ooh, nasty girl. Look out, he’s heading back. See if you can manage the conversation without my assistance, will you?”
I shot a baleful glare at her. She hopped merrily down from her perch on the stool and made off toward a couple patrons near the front. For my part, I struggled to create an aura of nonchalance. It might have worked, except I dropped my wallet, whacking my head on the edge of the bar when I bent to pick it up. He grinned and tried to wave the money off. No way. I plunked the bills down in the spill rail of the counter. Mercifully, he didn’t push the issue, taking the two bucks and setting the glass down on a dinky, paper napkin. Crossing his arms, he leaned on the bar directly in front of me. A nice little showcase for his biceps. If anyone was looking. Which I was not.
“So,” he said. “Your friend likes putting you on the spot, huh?”
“She likes to heat things up a little. Speaking of which,” I said, desperately hunting for a topic. “What’s up with the air conditioning?”
“I thought violets liked sultry conditions.”
“There are limits.”
“The unit needs a new coil. At least, I hope that’s all it is. I’ve been telling people, it gives a little ambiance to the place. It reminds me of a tropical island. Have you ever been to the Caribbean? I just got back yesterday. Beautiful place.”
I definitely wasn’t going to talk about the tropics with this guy. Luckily, a trio of college-age girls materialized behind me, each one trilling a greeting to Eli. They strolled past, sitting at the farthest end of the bar, facing us. Apparently, getting settled required a lot of hair-flipping, cleavage adjustments, and giggles. The heat coming from their end wasn’t weather-generated, and I fully expected Eli to reciprocate. Instead, he just nodded pleasantly and gave some kind of signal to Aimee, who trotted down the length of the bar to serve the girls.
“Why didn’t you serve them?” I asked. “You were closer than Aimee.”
“I’m not working tonight. I’m just here to try to fix the AC.” He hadn’t moved from his up-close-and-personal stance opposite me.
“You served me.”
The slow grin I got for an answer flushed a smile out of me and sent my gaze chasing around the bar.
“So,” I finally managed. “Could you help me out with something?”
“Absolutely.”
Opting to ignore the grin this time, I slid from my stool and crossed over to the bulletin board. Despite my resolve, I was less successful at ignoring the warm sensation his perusal left on my back. At least, I hoped it was my back. Snagging Trinnie’s picture off the board, I returned to my seat.
I held the picture up in front of his face, pointing to Trinnie.
“She’s a friend of mine.” He took the photo, squinting in the dim light.
Before he commented, the pack of females at the end reasserted their claim. “Snake! Snake, baby, c’mere! Kelly has something for you.” More giggles.
He glanced down the counter and smiling, waved them off. “I’m busy right now, ladies. Give me a minute.”
“Snake, baby?” Eli turned back at the sound of my voice. Shut up, Letty. Shut up. “Don’t let me keep you from whatever it is that little Kelly is offering.”
His eyes twinkled. “I thought you weren’t going to call me Snake,” he said.
“I was quoting,” I said. “Look. I don’t want to keep you from your job. Do you know either one of these women in the picture?”
He held the photo lightly, waving it at me. “Don’t worry. I’m right where I want to be. And yes, I know both these ladies.” He raised his eyebrows in a “what else?” expression.
“The lady sitting next to Trinnie, can you tell me her name? Or when she comes in? I want to talk to her. Actually, I want to talk to anyone who might have known Trinnie from here.”
His expression sobered, and he examined my face carefully. This time without an overdose of hormones. “You’re not a cop.” Said as a statement, not a question. I shook my head, anyway—not a cop.
“Her name’s Reggie,” he said. “I don’t know much about her, except she drinks scotch and tips well. I never got the feeling she was real buddy-buddy with Trinnie, but they usually come in about the same time. Late afternoons, mostly. Reggie comes almost every day. Trinnie, mostly just on weekdays.” He paused, then picked up a bar rag and started wiping the already clean area in front of my drink. “Trinnie’s nice enough, but she comes across as someone in a lot of pain. I think people tend to avoid her.”
I felt myself gulping back tears. Oh shit, not now. I resisted the urge to blink, knowing it would send tears cascading down my face. Instead, I focused on the Amaretto bottle positioned over Eli’s left shoulder. My luck—the little sorority triplets at the end of the bar were going to think I was crying over Eli.
Suddenly, he was at my side, taking my elbow and guiding me into the backroom. He steered me into the gloomy annex and propped me against the pool table. We stood enveloped in the dusk for several minutes, while I composed myself. I was still trying to think up an explanation for my meltdown when Beth came skittering around the corner like a Spanish duenna whose virgin had gone missing.
A misplaced analogy if ever there was.
“What’s wrong? Where are you? Why the hell are you standing here in the dark?”
She probably would have gone on, but Eli stretched a hand out and flicked on the overhead lights. Very bright. He tilted his head a bit to catch my eyes, then reached over, gently thumbing a tear off my face.
“What just happened?” he asked.
I took a deep, quivery breath.“Trinnie is dead. She was murdered.”
“We found her,” Beth added. “Letty did. She walked in and found her all… cut up.”
“I’m sorry. That must have been horrible,” Eli said. He handed the photo back to me. “And now you’re… what? Looking for keepsakes?”
I felt as if someone pulled a plug, draining me. The memory of Trinnie, drained, rose up like bile. Abruptly, I pushed myself off the wall. “It’s time to go home, Beth. I’m done.”
“Let’s go.”
“Hold on, ladies,” Eli said. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“We’re fine,” I replied. “I just got a little emotional. There’s a lot more …” I stopped. The desire to confide was strangely compelling. And stupid. Stepping back, I rubbed my hand across my mouth.
Eli flicked the lights off, shrouding himself in shadows, making it impossible to read his face. His voice rumbled softly out of the darkness. “If you still want to talk to Reggie, she comes in most days around 3:00.”
“Thanks, I’ll remember. And… Thank you for… ” I couldn’t find an ending to the sentence. Maybe there was a voice-fading virus floating around.
Beth began herding me to the front of the bar, snagging our purses on the way. “Thanks, Snake. We’ll be in touch. Okay, then. Off we go.�
�� I looked back once, but shouldn’t have. He was still watching.
When we finally locked ourselves up in Beth’s car, I scrabbled aspirin out of the bottom of my purse. The bottle had busted open weeks ago, so I had to feel around to locate enough to deal with the onset of a mother of a headache. Just like the old days, I thought. Leave the bar, feel like shit, suffer a hangover. What progress?
“Has it only been one day since this all started?” I asked Beth, who was sitting with her head canted back on the seat. She looked like she was offering her neck as a sacrifice. Not a pretty image, given the circumstances.
“Technically, it’s two days since it’s now after midnight. But yes, time sure does fly when you’re having fun, doesn’t it?”
I merely grunted in reply.
“Okay,” she said. “New game plan. We don’t solve all the problems tonight.”
“I agree. Take me home, Jeeves.”
“Jeeves? Do I look like a chauffeur? Besides, James is the driver; Jeeves is the butler.”
“Whatever works, just drive.”
“Look who’s getting pushy. Better be nice, or I’ll kick you out and let you figure out how to deal with that hot honey in there.”
I shut up.
EIGHT
Blodgett had left a voice mail last night while we were out. I didn’t like missing his call, but it was too early to return it. I woke up cranky, feeling unsettled. No surprise there. Having found your friend bludgeoned to death is likely to do that. And I couldn’t dismiss the uneasiness generated from returning to the bar scene. Or from fending off drop-dead sexy bartenders, which in itself was strange. I decided my strong reaction to Eli was probably a mix of overwrought nerves and my subconscious searching for a distraction.
Something like that.
As I trudged to the coffeepot, the phone shrilled. I figured—rightly—that it was Beth.
“Another day, another twenty-four hours sober,” she said.
I could hear the smile in her voice and couldn’t help returning it. Cheerfulness, like crankiness, can be contagious. “I’m proud of us.”
“You should be. Listen, I’ve been thinking.”
Whittaker 03 The Secrets We Keep Page 4