Nine Cocktails

Chapter 1-2

Paige froze when the cop approached her bar. Since when did they hire cops who looked like this? For one thing, if this detective wasn’t gay Paige would burn her camera tonight. Straight women might cut their hair short, but they wouldn’t get a cut like that. Paige couldn’t see much of the detective’s skin, but the hint of some kind of black-ink chest piece stuck out through her white dress shirt.

God, what a time to think about s*x. Someone, Paige didn’t know who yet, had been killed. Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with The Gin Barrel, but Paige wouldn’t bet on it. And sure, lots of the people working here had problems. Paige knew for sure seven of the patrons had issues with stalkers. One had even given her helpful advice on dealing with her own.

None of that changed the absolute certainty, deep in Paige’s heart, that she was the one to blame for whatever had happened. Most of the patrons had already been dismissed, and for the bar to be empty by ten thirty on a Thursday night was going to kill their numbers. Paige wasn’t a businesswoman, but she knew a place like this couldn’t afford to be empty on Thirsty Thursday.

She also knew she depended on the tips she got on crowded Thursday nights.

What the hell is wrong with me? A man is dead, and I’m worrying about my tips?

The cop walked up and sat down at an empty place. She glanced from side to side with her pale blue eyes, and then she gave a little grin. “Hi. I’m Detective Abby Morgan.”

Paige blushed, even though she had no logical reason to be embarrassed. “I’m Paige,” she blurted.

“I know. Mike D’Agostino told me.” Abby grinned a little and pulled out a notebook—a paper thing, really old school. Did people still use paper? What about the trees and such? “Listen, do you mind if I ask you a few questions? I won’t insult your intelligence and pretend you don’t know why we’re all here.”

Paige swallowed. “I know someone was killed.” She looked down at the bar for a second. “Do you mind if I clean up? The mess on the bar is making me antsy.”

Abby grimaced. She looked genuinely sympathetic. “I wish I could. The crime scene team is going to have to take all of your dirties from you. I hate that, personally, but it is what it is. The killer’s DNA might be in this room. I doubt it, for what it’s worth, but we have to make sure we cross all of our t’s and all that, or it creates a loophole for the killer when the district attorney brings him to trial.” She took a breath and pulled out her phone. “First things first. Do you know this man?”

Paige covered her face. It didn’t matter if Austin was the victim or the killer, either option was bad. And Paige knew Austin. He wasn’t a killer. Not by any stretch of the imagination. “Oh my God.” She took a second to get control of herself. “Yes. Yes, I know him. He’s Austin Connolly. He’s here at least two nights a week.” She met Abby’s pale eyes. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

Abby nodded, looking down. “It looks that way. They found his ID in the victim’s wallet, but they won’t make a positive identification until after the autopsy. D’Agostino said you were close?”

Paige swallowed. “Yeah. I mean, I guess we were as close as he was to anyone in the area, you know? He’d only lived here for maybe a year, a year and a half. He’d come here from…” Paige had to search her memory. “Maine, maybe. He’d come here to work at one of the big banks but he didn’t have any friends in the area yet. He dated a little here and there, but no one really serious.”

Abby’s posture shifted, subtly. “So, you two weren’t seeing each other?”

Paige fought back tears and laughter at the same time. She didn’t know if that marked her as shallow, or fickle, or just insane. “He and I had the wrong equipment to interest each other. But I don’t know, I guess not everyone knew that.” She reached for a mixing glass. “Sorry. I need to do something with my hands.”

“I get it.” One side of Abby’s mouth quirked up in half a grin. “Believe it or not, I understand. So, Connolly was in the closet?”

“Not exactly.” Paige poured gin, vodka, and Lillet into the glass with ice and stirred. She didn’t need to measure. She’d made this drink a thousand times before. “He couldn’t be all Mr. Pride at work or anything, and I don’t think his family was too thrilled when he came out to them. He said they hadn’t spoken in years, but it wasn’t one of his favorite things to talk about.” She strained the drink into a coupé glass and pushed it over to Abby.

Abby put her hand on the glass, but didn’t lift it. Of course she didn’t. She was working, trying to solve a murder. Austin’s murder. God, what was wrong with Paige? “Do you think this might have been a hate crime?”

Paige hesitated. Then she shook her head. “I don’t think so, no. Anything’s possible, but it’s not something that happens around here, you know? This is a safe area.”

“Anyplace can seem safe, until it isn’t.” Now Abby did take a sip of her drink. “What do you call this?”

“It’s a Vesper.” Paige glanced up as the crime scene team came in to do their thing. All of the patrons were gone now. “It’s wicked easy to make. Austin liked it. It was his favorite after-work drink.” A pit formed in her stomach. It shouldn’t be so easy to slip into talking about Austin in the past tense.

“Huh.” Morgan sipped from it again. “A few people said he was nervous. He told D’Agostino he’d been followed today.”

Paige swallowed hard. “He mentioned something about that. He didn’t know the person following him, though.” She scratched at her throat. “The thing is, um, he’d been getting some threatening messages. A couple of my regulars have.”

Abby’s eyes lit up. It was like lighting up one of those crystal lamps the New Age types liked. “What kind of threatening messages? And which regulars, in particular?”

Paige flinched. “They’re texts. They don’t mention me specifically. They just warn people away. They just say stay away from her, or stay away from the gin barrel. No caps, no punctuation. That’s all.”

Abby put a hand on Paige’s when she flinched. She had a warm hand, calloused but comforting. “Hey. It’s okay. Unless you turn out to be the one sending the messages, or the killer, you’re not in trouble. And you’ve already got an alibi for the time he was killed, okay? You were in here serving up drinks to a full house.”

Paige nodded. She couldn’t look up. She couldn’t speak. All she could do was look at Abby’s hand on hers and hope she never let go.

Abby gave Paige a moment to collect herself. “Have any of the other bartenders or other staff members had the same problem?”

Paige licked her lips. “Yeah. Every once in a while, a customer will get fixated, or one will get mad at the bar or a bartender and decide he’s on a crusade to shut the whole place down.” She rolled her eyes. “We had one about a year ago who decided to picket outside trying to convince everyone to Repent Their Wicked Ways—that’s what the sign said—because he saw two women holding hands at the bar.”

“Christ.” Abby curled her lip. “I noticed he wasn’t here tonight.”

“Someone puked on his shoe. It wasn’t one of our customers, it was someone from upstairs, but he decided he would rant and rail about the evils of homosexuality from behind the safety of his keyboard from then on.” Paige shrugged. “If he couldn’t handle a little puke, he probably wasn’t the one who did this.”

“No.” Abby covered her mouth for a moment. Her eyes twinkled merrily, but she got herself under control quickly. “Paige, is there a stalker problem at this bar?”

Paige took a step back. “There is not a stalker problem at this bar.” She slapped her hand down on the bar. “Mike is good enough to be willing to hire people who’ve been stalked, which is a very different thing.” A few of the crime scene techs turned to stare.

Abby held her hands up, cheeks blazing. “I apologize. That is a very different thing, and thank you for clarifying. And I’m sorry you’ve had to go through that. I’ve seen a lot of stalking cases, and obviously I’ve got concerns that Mr. Connolly’s case might be another one that’s gone bad. That’s the reason I asked. I know some of the questions I have to ask will strike you as insensitive or in poor taste, and I’m so sorry about that. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have to.”

Paige bit down on the inside of her cheek. She hadn’t meant to explode like that. Exploding at cops never went well, and she didn’t need to making them more suspicious of her than they already would be. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Abby took a sip of her drink. “It’s ridiculous to expect people to not have thoughts or feelings when you’re asking intrusive questions. Do you think a jealous former partner, or a partner’s ex, could have done this? Did he mention anyone in particular?”

“No. He was always groaning on about being single. It couldn’t have been a partner. But it could…” Paige trailed off. “I don’t know. I don’t want to go around accusing people. And I know I’d be pissed if someone dragged my s**t out for all the world to see, you know?”

Abby nodded. It would be so easy to believe she really did care, that she truly understood and “got” what Paige was saying. She probably got hundreds, thousands of confessions that way. “The only thing is, people who kill like this, they’ll do it again. They do it because they can get away with it. It’s just a way to control their real target.” She fixed Paige with those pale eyes. “If this relates to stalking, we both know it wasn’t about Austin at all. So he’ll kill the next person his real target is friends with.”

Paige closed her eyes. Abby didn’t have to tell her anything about controlling stalkers. She knew all there was to know about them. “Okay. Um, you already know I’ve been stalked. You might find an old police report about it. Then there’s Manda, and Kevin who works Fridays and Sundays. There are a few patrons with stalking backgrounds too, but they didn’t have much contact with Austin.”

“Thank you, Paige.” Abby gave Paige’s hand a little squeeze, just as a beefy man in a cheap suit walked up behind her.

“I think we’ve got about all we can get here, Abby.” He eyed Paige up and down. For once in this place, it didn’t feel creepy. It felt more like a dad, assessing her ability to take care of herself. “Ma’am, I’m sorry for your loss. I know you’re an adult, and you get yourself home by yourself every night, but for tonight I’d appreciate it if you let us drive.”

Paige’s jaw dropped. None of the cops she’d dealt with about Jack’s stalking had behaved like this. “Um, yeah. Thanks. Let me get my things.”

Abby joined her while she went back to collect her jacket and bag. “We’re pretty sure the building is secure,” she said, “but I don’t want to be the one who has to explain why ‘pretty sure’ was good enough for them, you know?”

“I suppose I can appreciate that, even if it’s a little weird to be followed.”

“Under the circumstances, I suppose it would be.” Abby finished her Vesper as they walked, dropping it into a tech’s waiting evidence bag as they left.

Paige didn’t think she’d ever met someone quite like Abby Morgan before. Unfortunately, she knew Jack was watching.