The next night, Hawk was late getting to the Gimlet Lounge. He’d worked longer, to make up for the cases he’d gotten behind on, in his funk. He’d made certain that he paid attention to every detail. The previous night’s confusion scared him.
Edging in at the crowded bar, Hawk glanced at the colorful bottles lined up on the counter behind Carl. Better not hit the hard stuff.
“Just give me a Boulevard.”
Carl poured the beer. “Can you believe this crowd?”
“The music producer?”
“Yeah. He’s supposed to stop in tomorrow night, too. Great for business.” Carl grinned from ear to ear.
Scott Norman came in with his band, and the musicians took the stage. They tuned up, playing a soothing mix of smooth jazz. But what Hawk really wanted to hear was the song from yesterday.
He looked at Greta, w
