Chapter 16
Marcia slid the dishtowel around the last of the Margarita glasses, then hung them on the rack above the bar. She folded the towel, placed it under the counter, straightened her bow tie, and picked up her coffee mug. She blew a cloud of steam off the liquid’s black surface.
7:30. Bennie’s was quiet; she could almost hear echoes of the dance music, glasses clinking, the murmur of conversation. But for now, none of the revelers had arrived and Marcia savored the quiet.
She took a sip of coffee and let her elbows rest on the bar. She brought up that day’s Tribune from a shelf underneath the bar, then lit a Marlboro Light.
The first thing that caught her eye was the story about Mark Walsh. Marcia scanned the report, eager to find out if anything new had happened with the case. B
