by Jana DeLeon
“That’s not going to look right no matter what,” Ida Belle said.
“I’m picking my battles,” I said. “If you want to work the rest of the night without taking a deep breath, that’s on you, but you’ll do it in flats. Now, what did you want to give me?”
She reached into a bag on the recliner, pulled out a T-shirt, and tossed it to me. “One of the Sinful Ladies makes T-shirts for the sports teams. I had her make this up for you since I figured you’d be dressed in your usual gear.”
The T-shirt was black with a dancing turkey on it. It looked absolutely absurd but still made me smile.
“I figured that gave you a holiday theme but might be silly enough to distract men from hitting on you,” Gertie said. “If that doesn’t work, I have a button that says ‘I date the deputy,’ but I was afraid that might be off-putting given the regular clientele.”
Ida Belle raised one eyebrow. “That might be the best idea you’ve had in a while. Why didn’t you get yourself one?”
Gertie rolled her eyes. “Because I want men to hit on me.”
“You’re a stone-cold fox,” Francis said.
“See?” Gertie said.
“I’m going to take my shirt and go,” I said. “I’ll see you two in about thirty minutes.”
I stopped by the sheriff’s department and picked up the instructions and keys to the bar from Deputy Breaux. Carter was out, so I couldn’t see Whiskey in person. I figured that might be the case, so I just thanked the deputy and headed out, praying that I didn’t screw this thing up. It amazed me that I’d pulled off some of the CIA’s most intricate missions and on foreign land without a qualm, but running a bar in what was now my hometown slightly terrified me.
Ida Belle and Gertie arrived right after I got the bar open and we’d barely gotten the instructions covered before vehicles and boats started pulling up. Whiskey was right. If the bar was starting to hop this early, the night would be a big moneymaker. Ida Belle headed outside to let everyone know the situation and to ask everyone to wait a minute until we could get set up inside. Gertie and I started checking the bar and refilling stock as needed.
Misty and Chloe, the two regular waitresses, showed up together and looked confused when they saw me behind the bar. They looked downright startled when they got a peek at Gertie. I gave them the bare basics and a note that Whiskey had written. They read the note and both nodded, looking a bit frightened.
“You don’t think Whiskey killed her, do you?” Misty asked.
“No,” I said. “Or I wouldn’t be here helping.”
Chloe bit her lower lip. “He was so mad at Venus that night. I mean, not that I blame him.”
“What did he expect getting mixed up with her?” Misty said.
“Did you know Venus well?” I asked.
They both shook their heads.
“We’re not from Sinful,” Misty said. “But everyone in a hundred-mile radius had heard about Venus.”
“Her reputation precedes her,” Chloe said. “Everyone knew not to have anything valuable around Venus, and that included your man. I don’t know why Whiskey hooked up with her. He’s smarter than that.”
Misty shrugged. “He’s still a man, and Venus was smoking hot. That makes a lot of smart men stupid.”
“God, isn’t that the truth,” Chloe said.
“But still, Venus was a piece of work,” Misty said. “That night after Whiskey fired her, she didn’t even leave right away. I saw her a couple minutes later when I threw out a bucket of dirty water. She was just standing in the parking lot chatting with some of the regulars, like she hadn’t done anything wrong.”
“Do you remember which regulars she was talking to?” I asked.
“Bart Lagasse for one,” Misty said. “Probably trying to take him for whatever he had in his wallet. She did that on a regular basis. Red was there as well, and the Lowery brothers.”
“How long was she out there?” I asked.
Misty shrugged. “Don’t know. I went out to smoke maybe thirty minutes later and she was gone.”
“Were the others back in the bar?” I asked. “Or did they leave as well?”
Misty’s eyes widened as she got my implication. “Oh! I hadn’t thought…I’m sure the Lowery brothers came back in because one of them broke a pool cue later that night and Whiskey threw them out. But I’m not sure about Red or Bart. You don’t think…?”
“I don’t think anything,” I said, although that was far from the truth. “I was just wondering, but all the same, you should probably tell that to Deputy LeBlanc when you get a chance.”
“Sure,” Misty said. “I’ll call him tomorrow. I didn’t even think…”
Gertie patted her hand. “Of course you didn’t, dear. You’re a good person. Good people don’t think about things like that.”
“Well, we’re all good people here,” I said, steering the moment back to the job at hand. “And we’re going to do our best to make this work for Whiskey. So if you two see anything being handled wrong, please let me know. He really needs to keep the bar open.”
They both nodded.
“And we need the jobs,” Chloe said. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but tips are pretty good. And Whiskey gives us some extra when we’ve had a really good week. He’s a nice guy. I just don’t think he wants people to know it.”
“They’d all be asking for free drinks if they thought he was nice,” Misty said. “Anyway, we’re happy to help wherever you need it. There’s a notepad under the cash register that has the mix for some of the more difficult drinks, but only a handful of customers deviate from wine, beer, or whiskey, so you should be good to go.”
“Thanks,” I said, and they headed off to prep the tables.
Ida Belle poked her head inside. “Are you almost ready? The natives are getting restless.”
I looked over at Gertie, who nodded.
“As ready as we’ll ever be,” I said and sent up a silent prayer.
The first several hours went smoothly, considering. Misty and Chloe managed the crowd nicely and I stayed behind the bar, taking money and pouring drinks as fast as possible. Ida Belle and Gertie shifted between helping me with drinks and helping serve. I made a couple things wrong and Gertie dumped a tray of beer, but at least it hit the floor and not one of the customers. I was beginning to think we had this.
But as the night wore on and people got drunk, I could see where the rest of my energy would be spent—in keeping the customers under control. Misty and Chloe were adept at handling most outbreaks of rowdiness with swift service and a bit of flirting to distract male tempers. But eventually, we had one that refused to comply. He was sitting at the end of the bar and as the night wore on and he got drunker but showed no desire to leave, I started mixing his drinks weaker. I didn’t charge him less, of course. I figured that’s what Whiskey would do for having to deal with the aggravation. Although in this case, I had a feeling Whiskey would have tossed him out on his ear given that the man was complaining about Whiskey.
When Misty made a run back for drinks, I asked her who he was. She glanced over and frowned. “Dean Allard. He’s a nasty drunk, although to be honest, he’s not much better sober. Walks around mad most of the time.”
Ah, I thought as she hurried off with her tray. This was the man who cheated on his wife with Venus and got stuck with child support for six kids. I supposed that would lend to making one angry all the time, although the fault for cheating still lay entirely with him. After all, Venus was not the married one and he was capable of saying no and remaining clothed like the rest of us.
“Don’t know why he had to bring that trash into the bar,” Allard said. “Whiskey knew how much trouble she caused me and what does he do—hires her and then takes up with her himself. Stupid.”
“Whiskey weren’t married,” the man next to him said. I recognized him as one of the locals, an old fisherman called Red. He was gray and balding now but apparently he’d once had a full head of bright auburn h
air. “He was still a fool to take up with her, but at least he isn’t a fool that’ll be paying for it for a decade.”
Allard snorted. “He’ll be rotting in prison for killing her. How is that not paying? And for what? Throttling a piece of trash that we’re all better off without? I should have throttled her myself. Lying skank was all she was. I gave her money, just like she asked, and she told my wife anyway.”
“Shoulda kept it in your pants,” Red said. “Then you wouldn’t be out the money or the wife.”
“For all I know, I did,” Allard said.
“What do you mean?” Red asked. “Either you had it out or you didn’t.”
“All I know is I came here, got drunk, and woke up on the floor in Nickel’s camp with my pants around my feet. That skank was naked on the couch and claimed we’d had a go at it most of the night.” He tossed back another shot of whiskey. “Now here I am paying nine ways to Sunday and I don’t remember any of it. Doesn’t seem fair, really.”
Red nodded. “If you’re going to lose everything, you really should get to remember the good parts of your indiscretion.”
“What’s an indiscretion?” Allard asked, his speech now slurred. “You’re using those big words again. Ain’t nobody in Sinful got time for big words.”
Red patted him on the back. “I think it’s time for you to head out. Maybe grab a six-pack and watch some television. I’m leaving myself. I can give you a lift and you can get your truck tomorrow.”
Allard nodded. “Being here is depressing anyway. Shoulda killed her myself is what I should have done.” He frowned. “Hell, I might have. Can’t remember that night either. Gotta piss before we go.”
“Thanks,” I told Red as Allard stumbled off in the direction of the bathroom. “I was trying to figure out how to stop serving him without him causing trouble.”
Red nodded and shot a worried look in Allard’s direction. “He’s working up to it, that’s for sure.”
“You think he could have killed Venus? I mean, if he doesn’t remember that night…”
Red shrugged. “I didn’t see him in the bar that night. I don’t like to think it was him, but somebody did it. And I don’t want to believe it was Whiskey.”
“Anyone you would like to believe in?”
“I don’t know. I guess if I was going to bet on it, I’d go with Bart Lagasse.”
I nodded. Bart was the guy Venus had dated in high school and stolen from when she cleared out of town. The guy who was rumored to knock Venus around.
“Any particular reason why?” I asked.
Red shrugged. “Venus done him wrong back when she lived here before and he ain’t forgot it. Plus he’s got a temper. Probably half the fights that get started in here go back to Bart.”
“Was he in the bar the night she disappeared?”
Red snorted. “You might say that. He was the one that Venus grabbed up front like.”
I stared. “Interesting. I’d never heard who the receiving party was.”
“I don’t know who was madder—Whiskey or Bart. Both of ’em looked like they was going to shoot her. All red in the face, jaws twitching, fists clenched. It’s a wonder one of them didn’t punch her.”
“So I take it Bart was no longer interested in that sort of attention from Venus?”
“Shouldn’t have been with the way she did him, but he’s a fool.” Red pointed to the corner where a table of young men sat. “Look at him now. He’s the one wearing the shit-eating grin. Looks entirely too happy for a man whose old girlfriend was murdered. I don’t care what he thought of her. That still ain’t right.”
“No, it’s not. But I guess I prefer the truth to people pretending otherwise.”
Red narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re the CIA gal, aren’t you? Didn’t think your kind went in much for the truth.”
I laughed. “We do when it’s coming from others.”
Red managed to get Allard out of the bar and things went back to normal…for about fifteen minutes. Then the next overly loud drunk made his presence known. He was a young guy, probably early twenties, and sitting at a table with two other guys about his age. I’d seen them all around town but didn’t know who they were.
The loud one lifted his shot glass in the air. “To Whiskey! For doing what this town needed to rid itself of evil.”
I took some money from Chloe and pointed. “Who’s that guy?”
“Oh, that’s Jeff Breaux,” she said. “I’ve only seen him in here once before. Apparently, he’s not much of a drinker.”
I took a closer look. Everything I’d heard about Jeff Breaux was that he was quiet and a nerdy type. Given he was married and his pregnant wife was probably at home planning Thanksgiving dinner, I was surprised he was in the Swamp Bar. Even more surprised that he was so drunk he was spouting off things better left unsaid, especially in public.
“What about the other two?” I asked.
“Um, I don’t know the ginger,” Chloe said, “but the guy with the dirty-blond hair is Bart Lagasse. He’s a regular.”
“Don’t know why people are upset,” Jeff continued to rant, even though it was clear that Bart was trying to get him to stop. “Ought to be giving Whiskey a medal.”
I left the bar and moved closer to the table, just to make sure I didn’t miss anything.
Bart glanced around and leaned in. “You shouldn’t go saying things like that.”
“What?” Jeff said. “You going to pretend you’re not happy she’s gone? After the way she did you? God only knows why Melanie insisted on being friends with her. She was only being used.”
“That’s not the point,” Bart said. “You can’t say things like that or the police will start asking where you were that night.”
Jeff’s face flashed with anger, then sadness. “Know exactly where I was. Lost my son that night. Nothing’s been the same ever since.”
Bart squeezed his shoulder. “Oh, man, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that was the night…”
Jeff shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, I guess. Can’t change nothing. That’s why I figured I’d take up drinking.”
“Maybe you need to reconsider,” Bart said. “At least for a while. Melanie won’t be happy if she finds out you were here. Going to be bad enough going home drunk.”
“Not going home,” Jeff said. “Can’t be there. I keep seeing that night…the blood, the ambulance, that doctor with the long face. I can’t do it anymore.”
Bart stood up. “Let me take you home, man. I’ll smooth things over with Melanie.” He reached down to help Jeff up from the chair. I was expecting him to argue, but he just wobbled up and leaned against Bart.
“Can’t fix it now,” Jeff said.
Bart led him to the door and I headed back to the bar. Misty was grabbing some beers from the cooler. She looked up and shook her head as Bart swung the door open and half carried Jeff across the threshold.
“You don’t see that often,” she said.
“What? Bart being nice or Jeff being drunk?” I asked.
She laughed. “Both, I guess. But I was talking about Jeff. I’ve only seen him in here one time before with a bunch of guys from work. He’s married to what the older gen would call a proper lady. Kinda surprises me him being in here drunk, but I guess we all lose it every now and then.”
“Poor Jeff,” Gertie said as Misty walked off with the beers. “All this stuff with Venus has brought that night back full force. I didn’t even realize myself. The timing I mean.”
I nodded. “When we talked to Melanie, I felt like she was putting on a happy face, but there was an undercurrent of something…sadness maybe?”
“You’re very perceptive,” Gertie said. “I didn’t even notice. But it’s no surprise. They had a lot of trouble conceiving. Jeff was injured on the job a couple years back and things didn’t work quite right. Doctors were involved and just when everyone figured they’d try to adopt, Melanie finally got pregnant. She was an only child, and so were her parents. When they died
, she lost all of her family.”
“And then she miscarried. That’s sad.”
Gertie nodded and gave me a side-eye. “You ever think about having kids?”
I had just popped a cocktail olive in my mouth and choked before managing to spit it out.
Gertie grinned. “Never mind answering. Your reaction said it all. It’s not for everyone. Heck, you’re taking things further than Ida Belle and me just settling down with a man.”
“We’re not settled. We’re dating.”
“Exclusively. And I have no doubt you’ll make it legal one day.”
I looked over at Ida Belle, who was serving a table of roughnecks shots. “What about her and Walter? Any guesses on how that’s going to go?”
“None. And if anyone would know, you’d think it would be me. I’ve poked at her a bit here and there, but she doesn’t utter so much as a peep about it. I even called Walter with some made-up order and dropped a million hints, but he didn’t bite.”
“Carter knows Walter asked,” I said. “He’s not happy about it. It’s going to be worse when he finds out she didn’t say no right away. I’m pretty sure that’s what he thinks happened.”
“You two going to yap all night or are you going to pour drinks?” Ida Belle’s voice sounded from the other side of the bar.
I poured up more shots, hoping it had been too noisy for Ida Belle to overhear our conversation. Gertie went to the other end of the bar to handle beer refills. Everything seemed to be running well. In fact, I was a bit surprised at how easy it had been so far. Given our past history with the bar, I’d expected huge drama, but then as we’d been the ones causing it, I supposed that was a bit unfair.
My phone rang. I waved at Gertie to cover for me and stepped out the back door to answer Carter’s call.
“How are things going?” he asked.
“Surprisingly well. No fights, explosions, or gunfire.”
“Maybe Whiskey should sell you the bar. You’re doing a better job of keeping things quiet than he did.”
“I think the reason it’s calmer is because Whiskey is in jail. There’s a general seriousness that I never saw before.”
