Murder on the Rocks

by Allyson K. Abbott

  “Someone else?” I said, confused. “I thought you were in charge of this case. Doesn’t that mean you get to make those decisions?”

  “It’s always a team effort with these things, Mack. Jimmy is my partner and as such he’s as much in charge of this investigation as I am. I took the lead initially but I’ve been handing more and more of the decision making off to Jimmy.”

  “Why?”

  Duncan sighed and flashed me a wan smile. “Because I like you, Mack. I like you a lot. And I don’t want that fact to cloud my judgment.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that, so I turned away and went about redoing the waffle fries. After tossing fresh fries into the basket and dropping it in the oil, I set the timer.

  “There’s something I want you to do,” Duncan said as I grabbed a broom and started sweeping up the spilled fries. “Come find me when you can spare about ten minutes.” With that he headed back out front to the main bar area.

  I finished the food orders and took them to Debra so she could deliver them. Duncan was at the far end of the bar, chatting with Cora and the others, his back to me. My cell phone rang and when I took it out of my pocket I saw that it was Zach calling.

  “Hey,” I said. “How’s your day going?”

  “Hell on wheels, and I mean that literally,” he said. “I swear half the city is trying to get fall-down drunk today and succeeding, and it’s not much fun when you have a raving, bloody drunk fighting you in the back of an ambulance.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Why? It’s not your fault. It’s just the way this job goes sometimes. How are things there at Murder Central?”

  “Busy. The place has been hopping all day. And it’s like a giant crime lab here with everyone discussing, analyzing, and dissecting Ginny’s murder.”

  “Have the cops been there?”

  “Heck, yeah, they’ve been in and out of here all day long, but mostly just for food and drink. And this morning we had a TV crew staked out in front of the bar. It’s getting crazy.” I debated telling him about the knife and the insurance thing, but decided to hold off. Those were things I wanted to say face to face, so I could gauge his reaction. It’s not every day a guy discovers there is strong evidence indicating his girlfriend might be a cold-blooded killer.

  “I’m just going to have to find a way to strike it rich so you and I can retire and travel the world together,” Zach said. “I’ll stop by for a bite to eat when I get off at seven and we can start plotting out our plan for great riches.”

  I winced at that and then smiled at the irony of the comment on the heels of Duncan’s most recent revelation. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll see you then.”

  I disconnected the call, stuck the phone back in my pocket, and stood there looking around the room and thinking about what Zach had said. I loved my bar and had no desire to leave it, but I had to admit that a little more time off would be nice. I didn’t have much of a social life beyond these walls. I’d always believed there was one special someone out there for me, and that somehow, somewhere, fate would bring the two of us together.

  And then a month or so ago, Debra suggested that fate had done just that with Zach, that my life’s love was there under my nose, but I was too preoccupied with running the bar and hanging on to some movie romance version of love to realize it.

  “Shouldn’t there be some kind of spark?” I’d asked her. “Some sort of big moment when everything clicks together and I realize he’s the one for me?”

  “That gushy love stuff is usually just your hormones talking,” Debra said. “It wears off. What matters in the long run is how much friendship and caring the two of you have between you. And you two seem to have that. The guy obviously cares about you, Mack. Why else would he be hanging around here so patiently, waiting for what little alone time the two of you manage to get together? Have you kissed him yet?”

  After recovering from the shock of her intrusive question, I shook my head.

  “Then how the heck would you know if the spark is there? You need to give it a chance.”

  I took Debra’s advice and opened myself up more to Zach. We went on a couple of dates and kissed several times. Eventually we progressed to heavy petting and while it was enjoyable, I didn’t feel the fireworks I’d always imagined. The relationship hadn’t moved on from there yet and I wondered if Debra was right. Were my expectations set too high?

  I again considered Zach’s scenario, and while retirement didn’t seem like something on my near horizon, the travel part sounded like fun. I closed my eyes and imagined the places we could go. A montage of images flitted through my mind . . . the Eiffel Tower, the Egyptian Pyramids, London’s Tower Bridge, the ruins of the Acropolis....

  And then I sighed wearily because, oddly enough, the two people I saw in my little mini movie were me and Duncan.

  And then: “Are you sleeping standing up?”

  It was Duncan’s voice behind me. I opened my eyes and whirled around to face him, hoping I didn’t look as guilty as I felt. “No, just indulging in a little imaginary R&R,” I said.

  “The real thing is much better.”

  “I’m sure it is,” I said. Then, hoping to steer him off that course I quickly added, “Did you need something?”

  “I’d like to try a little experiment with you if I may.”

  “I need to man the kitchen.”

  “Billy’s here and Pete said he was staying over late tonight to help cover the kitchen and the bar. He can cover the food orders for you until we’re done.”

  I arched my eyebrows at him. “Sounds dicey.”

  “It might be,” he said. “Come on. Follow me.” He headed down the hall toward the back of the building and stopped in front of the alleyway door. Then he pulled the crime tape loose, undid the locks, and opened the door.

  I followed him outside feeling both wary and curious. Both ends of the alley were cordoned off by police tape and the two garbage Dumpsters that normally sat on one side of the alley were gone. The space looked much larger without them and in response my body felt as if it was growing. Duncan walked over to where my Dumpster normally stood and stopped there. I walked up to his side, stopping a few feet away and giving him a curious look.

  “The evidence has all been removed from here,” he said. “But based on what you told me about how your synesthesia works, I wanted to see if there are any lingering sensations you might be able to pick up on. Particularly if any of them are also triggered by your proximity to other people, mainly your customers or employees.”

  His request made me feel awkward, like a side show freak on display. But I did what he asked and focused on the area, moving a little closer to the spot where cleaner concrete marked where the Dumpster had been. As I stared at the clean area of pavement, my fingertips tingled.

  “I feel something when I look at the spot where the Dumpster is supposed to be,” I told Duncan. I rubbed my fingers together. “The tips of my fingers feel rough and uneven in spots, almost as if some of my skin is missing. It’s a cue to me that something is different here from what I’m used to.” I scanned the area outside of the clean part, and the back walls of the building. “There’s also a smell, an earthy, dirt smell,” I told Duncan. “It’s not unpleasant, but I don’t particularly like it either. I caught a whiff of something similar earlier when I was with Zach.”

  “Your boyfriend smells like dirt?” he said, sounding amused.

  “No, but something about him triggered that smell for me. Just like something here is.”

  “What’s triggering it here?” Duncan said, looking around the area.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what triggered it with Zach earlier, either.”

  I closed my eyes then and focused on my other senses. Some of the smells, though faint, were definitely still there. I caught whiffs of rotting food, wet paper, something stingingly astringent, and a very faint floral smell that might have been lingering at the site or carried to me on a breeze—I couldn’t tel
l for sure.

  “I can hear the same chiming bell music I heard when I was near Cora, and also the twangy, out-of-tune sound I heard when I was by Lewis,” I told Duncan. “But they are very faint. I also feel an odd, cloying sensation along my neck and arms that I felt when I was with Riley, but I’m pretty sure that’s a manifestation of the musty smell from his wet books. I can hear a strange oscillating whine, and I heard the same thing the other night when I was close to Kevin Baldwin, but it’s not as loud here.”

  I focused harder, trying to separate out all the different sensations, mentally sorting them into real and synesthetic as best I could. Over the years I’ve learned how to tell the difference most of the time—my synesthetic reactions tend to be ephemeral, lacking in solidity in a way that my real sensations don’t—but sometimes my reactions are so intense it’s hard to tell them apart from the real sensory input. Some of my reactions happen so regularly I’m unaware of them, the way others may be unaware of tics or habits they’ve developed over time.

  I opened my eyes and found Duncan staring at me with a curious expression. “That’s all I’m getting out here for now,” I said. “But I just remembered something, a smell experience I had when I found Ginny out here, though I’m not having it now. It was the same smell I always got whenever I looked at Tad when he was wearing those ugly tortoiseshell glasses of his. I must have seen them in the trash out here.”

  “We found them next to Ginny’s body,” Duncan said.

  “Yes, and Tad explained how they got there. He said he tossed the broken glasses into my bathroom trash.”

  Duncan nodded. “And that would be a perfectly reasonable explanation for us finding them where we did except for one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The evidence techs have been sifting through all the trash that was out here in both your Dumpster and the one that sits at the other end of the alley, recording not only what they found, but where they found it. And all of the trash they found that appeared to have come from your bathrooms most recently was inside your Dumpster. Yet Tad’s glasses were found outside it, several feet away.”

  I sighed and swiped the back of my hand across my forehead, which was beaded with sweat from the afternoon heat. “This is just great,” I said. “At this rate, it won’t just be everyone in my bar who’s a potential suspect, it will be the entire city of Milwaukee.”

  Chapter 19

  I went back inside and hit up the ladies’ room before heading back out to the main bar area. I saw Duncan talking with Riley, who was now sitting at Cora’s table and I walked over in time to overhear part of their conversation.

  “I’d love to drop by and see what you have,” Duncan was saying to Riley. “I’m an avid reader.”

  “Are you?” Riley said. “What sort of stuff do you usually go for?”

  “Murder mysteries, mostly,” Duncan said with a half-smile. “I enjoy learning all of the creative ways people can come up with for killing one another.”

  “Ah, then I’ve got some lovely first editions you might be interested in. Are you a Holmes fan perchance?”

  “I am.”

  “Then I will set some aside for you.”

  Cora, who had been tapping away on her laptop, peered over the top of her glasses at the two men and said, “Hey, if you two are done developing your little bromance, I could sure use another glass of chardonnay.”

  “Coming right up,” Duncan said, heading for the bar.

  “He seems like a nice guy,” Riley said, nodding toward Duncan. “I hope he works out for you. Maybe he can take over for Gary.”

  Cora had gone back to typing but she stopped and looked up at me when she heard this. “Why do you need someone to take over for Gary?” she asked.

  “He doesn’t work here anymore,” I said vaguely, not wanting to get into the details. Hoping to distract her, I asked, “Where are Tad and Kevin? Did they leave?”

  “They did, but they both said they might stop back in again later. Why doesn’t Gary work here anymore?”

  Riley, seeming to sense he’d gotten me into a pickle, gave me an apologetic grin and got up from the table. “I have to get back to the store, Mack. I’ll stop by again after I close.” With that he left, leaving me alone with Cora’s demanding glare.

  “I had to let Gary go,” I told her.

  “Why? Did it have anything to do with Ginny’s murder?”

  “I can’t discuss that, Cora. I’m sorry.”

  “Can’t discuss what?” Duncan said, delivering Cora’s wine.

  Cora shifted her gaze from me to Duncan. “Why doesn’t Gary work here anymore?”

  “Oh, that,” Duncan said. “Turns out the guy had a prison record he tried to hide and when Mack found out she fired him.”

  Cora’s eyes narrowed as she digested this information. “Interesting,” she said. Then she went back to her typing, letting us off the hook.

  The dinner rush proved to be a busy one. Since I only serve pizzas, sandwiches, and a few sides to go with them, I don’t typically have a big dinner crowd on the weekends as most people opt to eat out somewhere fancier and then hit up a bar afterward. But tonight my menu seemed to be just fine for a number of people and it kept us all hopping, promising another very profitable night. Missy and Billy came in at five, and in addition to Pete staying on until eleven to help out, Debra also opted to stay over for a few hours to help with the rush and earn a little extra for her boys’ college funds.

  Zach came in around seven-twenty and I directed him toward the kitchen with a nod of my head. As soon as we were both inside and knew we were alone, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me. It was brief and not particularly passionate. Though our lips touched, the kiss could have been the type of cheek buss one might give to a friend or family member.

  “I’m ravenous,” Zach said once our lips parted. “Can you fix me up one of your famous BLTs and a big order of fries to go with it?”

  “Happy to,” I said. “In fact, I’m kind of hungry myself. What do you say I fix us both something and we take the food upstairs to my apartment to eat? Pete can cover for me here in the kitchen for a while.”

  Zach seemed surprised but pleased by this as I’d never invited him upstairs before. We always spent our time together down in the bar or away. I’d been to his apartment once briefly so he could change clothes, and saw that it was a small, clean, organized little bachelor pad . . . plain but utilitarian. And while we have kissed and had a few hot petting sessions—most of them either in his car or in the bar after hours when everyone else was gone—I hadn’t taken that final step with him yet. Not that I hadn’t been tempted, but the moment had never felt quite right for reasons I couldn’t fathom. Zach had been amazingly patient, which made me wonder just how “committed” he was to me. For all I knew, he could have been getting his needs met on the side with other girls he saw. I never asked, mainly because I didn’t want to know. Playing the ostrich again.

  “What would you like to drink?” I asked him. “I’ll get you something while I make the sandwiches.”

  He opted for a draft beer and I had Billy pour it for him while I went into the kitchen and fixed our meal. When I was done I carried both plates out front and told Billy and Pete that I was going to take a dinner break upstairs for a while. Duncan was at the other end of the bar serving customers and the two girls were out waiting tables. “You guys seem to have things under control,” I told Billy, “but call me on my cell if you need me.” I had him grab a bottled beer for me and give it to Zach, who followed me down the back hallway to my apartment door. “My keys are in my right pants pocket here,” I said, holding our plates and raising my arms. Zach reached in and grabbed the keys, squiggling his fingers around as he did so and wiggling his eyebrows at me in a mildly lecherous manner. Then he tried to unlock the door, but the key wouldn’t work.

  “Oh, hell,” I said, shaking my head. “I forgot about the locksmith.”

  “Locksmith?”

  “
Yeah, there was a guy in here this morning who changed all the locks in the place. But I never got the new keys.”

  “Didn’t the locksmith give you new ones?”

  “He probably gave them to Duncan.”

  “You mean the new guy? You seem pretty trusting of him given that you don’t really know him.”

  I felt bad about keeping Zach in the dark as to Duncan’s true identity, but I figured the fewer people who knew, the better. Plus, his jealous tone irritated me and made me taste something salty and sour, like a dill pickle. “Wait here,” I said, and then I carried the plates back out to the main bar area. I walked over to where Duncan was and set my plates on the bar. “Do you have the keys to my new locks?” I asked him.

  “I do. Why? Do you need them right now?”

  “They are my keys,” I shot back irritably.

  Duncan scowled and reached into his pocket, pulling out a handful of loose keys. “I was going to label them for you and put them back on your ring.”

  “No need. I can figure it out.”

  “Okay,” he said with a shrug, and then he dumped the loose keys into my hand. I picked up the plates again, balancing them on one arm, and headed back to Zach. Together we juggled the plates and drinks as I went to work figuring out which key opened my apartment door. I got lucky on the second try and Zach and I headed upstairs and set our stuff down on my dining room table. “This is nice,” Zach said, settling into one of four chairs and looking around. My dining and living areas were at opposite ends of one big room, and the kitchen, though it wasn’t huge, was big enough to hold a small table.

  “It works for me,” I said, digging out a candle and setting it on the table. I lit it and sat down across from Zach. “How about a toast?” I said, holding up my beer.

  Zach grabbed his and held it aloft, waiting.

  “To enjoying life as much as possible,” I said.

  “Can’t argue with that,” Zach said, and he clanked his mug against my bottle.

  We ate and chatted about ordinary stuff—the weird weather, current events unrelated to Ginny’s murder, movies that were playing, and a little bit of city political gossip. When we were done, I gathered up the plates and carried them into the kitchen. When I turned around, I saw that Zach had followed me and he pulled me into his arms, bringing our bodies into full frontal contact.