YOU’RE BACK?”
Cindi slid a coaster in front of Decker at the bar.
“Like a bad penny.”
“What can I get you?” she asked.
“Let me have your best IPA.”
She looked dubious. “Beer’s in the eye of the beholder.”
“I trust your judgment.”
She bent down and pulled out a bottle of beer from a small fridge under the bar.
Decker studied her. She was wearing a black shirt with the top button undone, allowing a glimpse of a tan bra and cleavage. Her jeans were snug and her hair bounced over her athletic shoulders.
He assumed the peekaboo shirt and tight pants were all about tips, and he didn’t fault her for that. Guys who sat at bars were mostly simple creatures, just dying to be manipulated by a pretty lady.
She poured the beer into a mug and slid it across to him.
“Try that.”
He took a sip and nodded appreciatively. “You know your beers.”
She smiled and wiped down the bar in front of him.
“So why the Mercury Bar?” he asked. “Into Greek mythology?”
“No, my dad was a big Orson Welles fan. You know, the Mercury Radio Theatre I think it was called, or something like that. And Mercury is part of Roman mythology, not Greek. Hermes was Mercury’s Greek counterpart.”
“My mistake,” said Decker.
She studied him. “Why do I think you already knew that? You probing for something?”
“Maybe. You seen John lately?”
“Which John? I know lots.”
“Baron.”
“No, why?”
“Just wondering. You two buds?”
“He comes in for drinks. If that makes us buds, I got lots of buds in this town.”
“When I was in here the other night I just thought there was something more there.”
Cindi stopped wiping down the bar, pulled out a bottle of water from under the counter, and took a swig. “Why do you care?”
Decker shrugged. “I’ve gotten to know Baron a little bit. I think he’s okay. I’d hate for him to get messed up in any of this.”
Cindi put the bottle of water down and picked up her cloth again. When a customer caught her eye and lifted his glass for a refill, she said to Decker, “Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”
He held up his beer in answer and took another drink.
A minute later she returned and said, “I’ve got another bartender coming in at ten. You want to talk then?”
“Works for me.”
“You’re right,” she said. “John is a good guy.”
“It’s nice to be right.”
“So, messed up in what?”
“Ten o’clock,” he replied.
* * *
At the stroke of ten Cindi handed the bartending over to someone else and motioned to Decker to join her at the back of the bar.
“My car’s parked in back.”
“Mine’s in front.”
“I’ll drive you back here. It’s not that far.”
“Where are we going?”
“To my place.”
“You sure that’s wise?”
“Are you?” she shot back.
They climbed into a midnight black Toyota Land Cruiser.
“Nice ride,” he said. “And not cheap.”
“I get good tips and good deals on cars.”
She drove them to a large brick building on the edge of downtown. As they traveled, Decker could see a number of renovation projects under way.
“Baronville making a comeback?” he asked.
“In parts,” she said cryptically.
They arrived at an underground parking garage and she pulled into a numbered space. They took an elevator up to the top floor. Cindi opened the door to her place and motioned Decker in.
She said, “This was an old textile mill. Renovated to luxury condos.”
“Yeah, I know, I’ve been here.”
“When?”
He gave her a quick glance. “When I came to check out Bradley Costa’s apartment. He lived here too.”
“That’s right, he did,” she said casually.
He looked at the sleek furniture, expensive-looking rugs, and stainless steel kitchen appliances set against exposed brick walls. In a far corner was a well-appointed exercise area with dumbbells, a chin-up bar, a rack of slam and medicine balls, an elliptical, a Peloton bike, and other machines that seemed designed to strengthen as well as torture.
“No wonder you’re in such good shape,” he said.
“It doesn’t just happen,” she said. “Gotta work for it.”
As Decker looked around at the expensive trappings he said, “Your tips must be really good.”
“It’s not just tips. I actually own the Mercury.”
“Yeah, I heard that. Inherited from your old man?”
“That’s right.”
He watched as she took off the jean jacket she had put on and hung it on a metal coat rack parked next to the front door.
“What are you, twenty-two?”
“I’m flattered. I’m actually almost thirty.”
“About the same age as my partner. Still pretty young to own your own bar.”
“Well, like you pointed out, I inherited.”
“But you’ve obviously been successful on your own. I take it you’re a good businesswoman.”
“My dad was a good teacher.”
“What happened to him?”
“He died.”
“Yeah, that I get. I mean how?”
“Heart attack.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“You want a drink?’
“I think I hit my limit. You got a soda?”
She slid open a refrigerated drawer and tossed him a bottle of water. “It’s better for you.”
She poured out three fingers of Bombay Sapphire, cut it with tonic, and added a slice of lemon, a wedge of lime, and three chunky ice cubes taken from an under-the-counter icemaker.
She tapped her glass against his plastic bottle.
“And is that better for you?” he asked, indicating her cocktail.
“I don’t drink on the job, bar owner 101. But I do like one drink before I go to bed. And I’m a blue bottle gin lady.”
She took off her shoes and curled up on the couch in front of the kitchen area, motioning Decker to sit down in the chair across from her.
He did so and drank some of his water while he eyed her.
“I take it you were born here?”
“You take it wrong. I was born in Philly.”
“And yet your father came here and owned a bar? And by the time you came along the bloom was well off Baronville. So why exchange the City of Brotherly Love for this place?”
She shrugged. “I was only one year old and just came along for the ride, apparently.” She added, “Okay, full disclosure, my mom was from here. They met in college. He always wanted to run a bar. The opportunity came up here, and presto, there you go. Sometimes that’s all you need for a major life change: a dream.”
“Where’s your mom?”
“Good question.”
“You mean you don’t know?”
“Here today, gone tomorrow. She left when I was little and I haven’t seen her since.”
“That’s tough.”
“Not that tough. My dad was great at being a single parent.”
“Do you remember your mom?”
“Not really. I was too young. I guess that’s a good thing. How can you miss someone you never really knew?”
“I suppose so.”
She sipped her drink. “So, what’s going on with John? Is he in any sort of trouble?”
“You seem very concerned about a guy who’s just a customer among many others.”
“He’s a very good customer. And a good guy who takes all sorts of crap that he doesn’t deserve.”
“I sort of got that impression at the bar that night.”
“Those guys were morons who don’t know any better. But there are many here who do know better. Or at least they should.”
“I’ve met some of them.” Decker shifted his bulk in the chair. “You know about the murders?”
“What’s that got to do with John?”
“He knew at least two of the four victims. One of them lived on his property.”
“Okay, so? Could be a coincidence.”
“I’m a cop.”
“And that means what?”
“That I don’t believe in coincidence.”
“Well, what if I told you that I knew all four of the victims?”
“Because they came to your bar?”
“That’s right.”
“Even Toby Babbot, who I understood was off the sauce?”
“I do serve food at the Mercury, as you well know, having eaten there tonight.”
“And since you’re one of the few places like that in Baronville, it’s not surprising that they all went there. But you didn’t live with one of them, did you? You weren’t high school sweethearts with one of them, were you?”
“I always thought Mike Swanson was kind of cute. And Brad did live in this building.”
“Did you ever talk to him apart from when he was at the bar?”
“I actually think he had a thing for me.”
“Did he ever act on that?”
“I sort of gave him the vibe that it would be futile if he did. I mean, he was okay, but I’m not into the stiff banker types. Too corporate for my bohemian tastes. I gave out subtle hints and he stopped trying.”
“He had a photo of you and him in his office.”
She seemed surprised by this. “Did he? From where?”
“Some business event, his secretary said.”
“Oh, that’s right. I remember now. He had a cocktail party about six months ago. Invited me and a bunch of other local business owners. There was a photographer there.”
“That explains it,” said Decker.
She sipped her drink. “So, I probably knew all four and I lived in the same building as one of them. Does that mean I’m not a coincidence and that I’m in the same mess John is?”
“You ever been up to the mansion on the hill?”
“Why?”
“Just curious.”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t remember.”
“Okay, a few times,” she admitted.
“Baron is pretty bohemian.” He waited to hear her response.
“I admit I find him interesting.”
“I think he’s very interesting. I’m just trying to figure out if he’s also a killer.”
“I don’t think he’d hurt a fly.”
“I don’t care if he hurts flies.”
She smiled at the remark. “John thinks you’re very interesting.”
“He told you that?”
“Yes, he did. We spoke on the phone after you and your partner paid him a visit.”
“Has he ever been here?”
“Once or twice. Please don’t ask about particulars.”
“He’s got some years on you.”
“He’s actually one of the youngest people I know.”
“You mean in spirit?” he said.
She nodded. “He’s also kept himself in great shape. He was an athlete. You look like you were an athlete.”
“I was, about a hundred pounds ago.”
“Don’t you check for alibis?”
“We do.”
“Well, does John have an alibi for when those people were killed?”
“The timelines were pretty broad on the four. But we’ll check that. Will you be providing him alibis?”
“Depends on whether I was with him at the time in question, doesn’t it?”
“Yes it does.”
“You don’t believe he did it, do you?”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe. It matters what the facts are.” He cocked his head at her. “Why do you stay here? You could own a bar in lots of places.”
“Town’s coming back. You saw that on the drive here.”
“Yes, but you said it was only coming back in parts.”
“Better than not at all. I’ve kind of studied the economics of places like this. In any downturn in a small town you always see mom-and-pop operations start up because people lose their jobs, but not their spirit. Local restaurants, fitness centers, tattoo parlors, pawnshops, mani-pedi places, local movie theaters, bakeries, pet shops, stuff like that. People get by, they do what they have to do to survive. You look at Pittsburgh. They turned it around. From steel mill town to a health and financial services kind of place.”
“Baronville is not Pittsburgh.”
“We don’t need to be Pittsburgh. And we have the fulfillment center. It’s helped my business, I can tell you that. I’m up about thirty percent year over year for each of the last three years.”
“Because after people work their butts off in that place, they need a drink?”
“Bingo. And food because they’re too tired to cook for themselves.”
“All the development we saw heading over here, that’s all mom-and-pop stuff? Looks like it involves more money than that.”
She frowned. “I’ve lost several friends to overdoses. But the one good thing was they had life insurance. Their families got the money after they died, and many of them have opened businesses with it, or used some of the proceeds to invest in the town. The renovation of this building came about because several beneficiaries decided to pool their funds to get it done. And now it’s almost all sold.”
“That’s great, turning a negative into a positive. But six unsolved murders. That’s not good for the town.”
Her grin faded. “Six?”
“Two more in an empty house. I found those.”
“I think I read something about that. No real details, though. Can you enlighten me?”
“No, I really can’t.”
“Are they related to the other four?”
“No idea.”
“You seem to have far more questions than answers,” she noted.
“That’s usually the case this early on. You ever been to Costa’s place here?”
“Once. He had a dinner there to drum up banking relationships.”
“You ever ask him why he would leave New York to come here?”
“I did, actually. He was a good-looking guy, obviously smart. He had money and a good career there.”
“So, what did he say?”
“Something about following his dream.”
“What kind of dream?”
“I didn’t push it and he didn’t elaborate.”
“Did he know Baron?”
“I know you believe that he did, but not that I know of. I don’t think John has much use for banks.”
“But he has a mortgage on his home with that bank.”
“Does he?” she said innocently.
“Yeah, he does. But he failed to mention that to me.”
Decker pulled the photo of Baron and the Little League team from his pocket and held it up. “You ever see this in Costa’s condo?”
She took it and looked at it. “Yeah, it was on a shelf with a bunch of others.”
“Baron was the coach.”
“I can see, Decker,” she said sharply. “He led the team to the state championship and then got canned by the powers that be.”
“He told us that. Do you know why?”
“I think it made him look too good and they couldn’t stand that.”
She caught the writing on the back. “Stanley Nottingham. Who’s that?”
“I don’t know. You ever heard of him?”
She shook her head. “It’s funny, though.”
“What is?”
She handed the photo back. “I only know this because John mentioned it to me once. Even showed me a picture.”
“Of what?”
“No, of whom.”
“Stanley Nottingham?” said Decker, looking perplexed.
“No.” She took a moment to search her memory. “Not Stanley. Yeah, it was Nigel. Can you believe that? Nigel?”
“You’ve lost me.”
“John showed me a photo of Nigel Nottingham. That’s why I remembered it. Don’t hear those two names much anymore. I mean, can you get any more British than that? But I guess it fit.”
“You’ve still lost me,” groused Decker.
“Nigel Nottingham was Baron’s butler.”
“John’s butler?”
“No! John can’t afford a butler. I’m talking about the original John Baron. He apparently wanted a full-fledged British butler, and Nigel Nottingham fit the bill.”
Decker jumped up from his seat. “I gotta go, thanks.”
He was out the front door of the condo before Cindi even got to her feet.
“But, Decker, I drove you over here,” she called after him as the door slammed shut.