I drove down Route 32 until I reached Blake’s Inn and pulled in. I walked over and knocked on the door. I saw him looking out the window and then he opened the door about an inch.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I told you that I’m supposed to be closed. The only reason I let you in before was because Eddie’s a friend of mine.”
I put my foot in the door before he could close it. “I’m the reason,” I said, “that Jerry Dell tried to kill you. You’d better let me come in and talk to you.”
Suddenly he looked tired. He opened the door and I stepped inside. I followed him into the bar.
“A drink?” he asked automatically.
“No, I’ve had enough for the time,” I said.
He’d taken a cloth and was rubbing the top of the bar as though he didn’t know what he was doing. “I thought you said you wasn’t a cop,” h
