I forced a smile. "Then you definitely need one last DC Dirty Martini. I'll even put in extra of the olives you like so much."
My efforts weaved through the grumpy layers, and he offered the tiniest of smiles. "I guess one last drink wouldn't hurt."
"Won't hurt at all." Even easier than putting a cotton swab in your mouth to collect much-needed DNA, but no need to share that detail with him.
I lined up the glasses, made the drinks all in a row, and then handed them out. "Vodka lemonades for Harmony and Brock. Long Island Iced Tea for Liza. DC Dirty Martini for Tommy. And, last but not least, a Bloody Mary for Johnny. Did you party hard last night, Johnny?"
He laughed and lifted his glass. "Always."
Thankfully, Officer Faria returned, and I watched the hand-off of the evidence bags. Tanner grabbed a bin for dirty dishes and brought it to the bar. "Figured you might need this with as busy as you are right now." He set the bin down—the bags were underneath. Meanwhile, Officer Faria had returned to his spot at the end of the bar. The concerned look on his face gave me pause.
I moved down to his end and said in a voice loud enough for everyone in the vicinity to hear. "Why don't you take some time and enjoy your food here? It will probably settle better than eating on the run." Then I lowered my voice. "Why the look?"
"Not sure this will hold up in court."
We paused as Tara brought his food out. "Here you go. Enjoy."
I grabbed a clean plate from a stack behind the bar and carefully moved the food from his to-go container onto the dish. "There you go. Bon appetite."
He smiled at both Tara and me before taking a bite of the sweet potato fries. "Thanks, ladies. Tara, you don't happen to have any of those cookies I like back there, do you?"
She gave me a quick glance. I replied with a subtle nod. I needed him on board to make this plan work, so emergency protocols were in place. Since I presently didn't have any information I was willing to exchange at the moment, chocolate chip cookies would have to do.
Tara winked at him. "I think we can find some in the kitchen for you."
Once she left, I addressed his concern. "Right now, we need to know if one of them is the killer, correct?"
He nodded as he chewed. Since his mouth was full, I continued. "If we can identify whose DNA matches, you can bring them in for questioning. If they confess, problem solved. Besides, I bet your court order comes in long before it's necessary. Then you can retest and confirm the results all court-upholding worthy."
"You know that last part isn't really a thing, right?"
"I know, but play along with me, Detective Munch." It was a lame Law & Order: Special Victim's Unit reference but the best I could come up with on short notice. And the officer really did enjoy munching on Tara's cooking.
"Who?"
"Never mind. Now I need to get back. You can serve as a witness so you know I got everything straight." I wiped the area off in front of him to make it look like I had a purpose there other than sharing intel with him. "Your cookies will be out soon. Have faith."
He grinned. "Oh, I always have faith in cookies, especially when Clara and Tara make them."
Smart man. I walked back to where the band was enjoying their drinks and making their plans for departure. Brock and Harmony were having an intense, whispered discussion. "What are you two talking about? What to get me for my last twenty-four birthdays or for my big quarter-century mark coming up next year?"
Brock chuckled while Harmony appeared sad. Not what I was going for. "Hey, just kidding. Gram always made birthdays special. Now that I know you both were sending money to help, you were doing your part to make my birthday special too."
"Baby, we need to talk."
I didn't want to talk—for many reasons. First of which was that I couldn't leave the bar. Important to keep my eyes on their drinks and keep them straight for the DNA testing. Second, because deep in my gut, I knew what Harmony was going to say. They were not staying for Thanksgiving. It was just as well. I didn't know how to make turkey or any of the trimmings, and who had time to shop? No. It was better this way. "Can't talk now. I've already been away from the bar twice. You'll have to wait until my next break, sorry."
She pushed her glass away "I'm done. Thank you for the drink."
I put the glass on the far right of the bin since she was sitting in that position at the bar. It helped that they had different drinks, so that would lessen the confusion. Brock's and Liza's came next. I was just about to grab Tommy's when the door to the tavern busted open and Michael Mahoney stormed in. He made a beeline for Brock.
A moment later, he'd pulled him off the stool and landed a right punch across Brock's picture-worthy chin. Liza grinned while Harmony screamed as Abe and Tan converged on the scene. "You son of a— I can't believe you!"
Brock rubbed his chin with his hand and moved his jaw around. I'm assuming to make sure it wasn't broken. That would make it hard to sing. "What are you talking about?"
"First you fired him, then you killed him, and now you're suing him?"
Tan moved to step in between Michael and Brock, but Freddie jumped in first. "Dad, what are you doing? Not for nuttin', but you need to chillax and take this outside. Are you even sure you got it right? Before, you were sure it was Lilly's mom who killed Donny Z. You got any proof or just enjoy screwing with her parents?"
"Get out of my way, son. You have no idea what's going on." He turned his attention to Brock. "I'm going to counter sue you for everything you own. By the time I'm done with you, you'll have to use fishing line for your guitar rather than those expensive nickel strings."
Great, there went the element of surprise with regards to the strings. If the killer was a member of the band, we'd just given them a fantastic head start.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Michael's distraction offered me the perfect opportunity to take care of the evidence bags and glasses. I motioned to Officer Faria, who was watching the exchange with a careful eye in case things got out of hand. Once I had his attention, I guided him to the service side of the bar. We quickly bagged and tagged the items while Brock and Michael verbally sparred. At least they'd lowered their tone to more of a gentleman's conversation than barroom brawlers. "Meet me around back, and I'll give you the glasses."
He placed some bills on the counter and nodded. "See you there."
By the time I made it back, Michael had left. Freddie was sulking, and the band was getting their stuff together. Everyone but Harmony. Brock kissed her. "See you back at the room, babe."
Liza linked her arms between Tommy and Johnny, and they made their way to the door. Right before they exited, I noticed Tommy's jean jacket was still hanging on the back of his stool. I hurried around the bar to grab it. "Tommy, wait. Your jacket."
Johnny stepped outside while I hurried to return Tommy's jacket to him. Something fell out of the pocket, and he bent over to pick it up, putting his backside right in my line of vision. I wasn't looking, honestly. He was, after all, old enough to be my father. I immediately recognized the pattern on the pocket of his jeans. The same brand Bree and I had found in the trash can. The same brand that had smudged the fresh paint on the shed near where Donny died.
I must've stared a moment too long because Liza's voice cut into the whirring sound in my brain as I tried to put the pieces together. "Hey, don't you think he's a little old for you?"
His age certainly hadn't kept Liza's hands off him. The more I thought about it, the more I realized each time she hadn't been hanging all over Brock, she'd been with Tommy. Interesting. Not wanting another altercation in the tavern, I smiled and shook my head. "Sorry, I was in another world. Not staring."
She linked her arm possessively through Tommy's and smiled up at him. "I bought these jeans for him. If he's going to wear denim all the time, I wanted him in something nice, yet showed how tough he was. This is a brand called Rugged—thought it was fitting."
I glanced at Tan, who was looking on with interest. "I can't ar
gue with your choice there. Just to clear up any misunderstandings, if I were interested in anyone as a boyfriend, it'd be him." Then I reverted my attention to Tommy, whose face conveyed annoyance and maybe a bit of embarrassment. I tried to salvage the conversation. "Not that any woman wouldn't be interested in you…" Ugh. I was no good at this.
He grabbed Liza with a harrumph and headed out the door. Tan and Mandi were immediately by my side. "What's going on?" Tan asked.
I took a quick survey of the patrons. They'd all resumed their eating, except Ms. Jordan. Her focus was on Tan's protective stance next to me. If her grin was any indication, she approved of the two of us together. The list of those people grew by the day. Everyone else had become accustomed, I think, to a little drama when the band was around. "I'll explain later when things slow down. For now we should probably get back to work."
They both nodded and returned to their tasks. I resumed my position at the bar and checked on the patrons there, starting at the end opposite Harmony. To keep myself from thinking about why she stayed behind, I thought about why Tommy might have killed Donny. He had means—the guitar strings he used were pure nickel. He had opportunity—since Tommy never seemed to be far from Liza, he could've been hanging out by the shed waiting for her while she argued with Donny. When she left, he could've moved in for the kill. Of all the possible suspects I'd considered, he had the physical stature and strength to carry out the dirty deed. And, let's not forget, jeans identical to the ones he wore tonight had fresh paint on them from the shed.
All in all, the odds were in his favor for being the killer. The only thing missing was a motive. I motioned to Mandi. She was wrapping silverware during a lull in her duties. "What's up?"
"Can you go in the back and call Officer Faria and ask him to test Tommy's DNA sample first?"
Her bright blue eyes widened. "You saw something at the door that made you suspect him, didn't you?"
I nodded. "It's all circumstantial but moves him to the top of the possible suspects list."
"Don't forget, you promised to fill me in later, right?"
Harmony waved to get my attention and beckoned me over. "Yes, promise. Most likely over a half gallon of ice cream if my mother tells me she's ditching me for the holiday."
"She wouldn't."
"Have you met my parents? I know yours aren't perfect, but at least they've been present in your life." Except for the time her father spent in prison, but that was neither here nor there. He'd been a model citizen since he got out and had been doing everything in his power to get his family back.
My parents, on the other hand, had found me around four days ago, and I was pretty sure they were ready to leave me…again. "We'll compare parents later. For now, can you please reach out to the police department?"
Mandi laughed. "You want me to call in case Detective Marshall answers, don't you?"
Her comment made me smile, despite the fact I was confident my heart was about to be broken. "You know me so well. You do have a way with him."
She offered a quick hug. "I'll let you know what they say. We'll talk later."
With that task done, I moved to stand in front of Harmony. I gestured to her empty glass. "Ready for a refill? I'm still buying for you."
She shook her head, causing a tear hanging out in the corner of her eye to escape down her cheek. "I can't stay, baby. I need to get packed up."
My PLH level dropped from the precarious position I'd been holding it in for the last several minutes in anticipation of this conversation. "So that's it? You're leaving two days before Thanksgiving? We've never had a Thanksgiving together. I thought…" I hated sounding pitiful, but I'd ignored every holiday since Gram died. This was the first time I'd held out hope I might be with my own family again.
"I don't want to, but Brock says…"
Some of the pent-up anger I'd been holding in for years broke through the locked cage buried deep in my chest. "Who gives a shitzu what Brock says or wants? You've been following him around like a lost puppy for over twenty-five years. And for what? He hasn't married you. You live in a tour bus or in an apartment in Florida. You've watched your daughter grow up through pictures and letters." I blinked back aggravating tears. "Help me understand, please."
She shrugged. "I love him. Sometimes we do things that make no sense to be with the ones we love. It's all I've ever known."
My heart broke into a million pieces, but somehow I held it together. "I'd hoped once we met and spent a little time together, you'd want to get to know me as well. But you gotta do you. So go. Be with your Romeo. I'll get by, just like I always have."
"Baby…"
I shook my head. "Not your baby. Never have been, and it looks like I never will. You should go."
She tossed some bills on the counter and left. At least this time I understood this was more about her than it was me. She wasn't going to change, and I'd be just fine. That's what I'll keep telling myself until the emotions settle back to a manageable level. A moment later, Freddie joined me behind the bar and began to collect dirty dishes and towels. "You okay?"
I shrugged. "Parents are a pain, aren't they?"
Freddie sighed. "Especially when they show up a couple decades in and all the sudden want to be father of the year."
"Your dad still wanting you to leave with him?"
"Yeah."
He racked the clean glasses above the bar with efficiency and skill. We'd miss him if he left. "You thinking about going?"
Freddie stopped what he was doing and looked at me. The sadness in his eyes cast a dejected look over his entire face. "No. It's like my whole life our relationship has been on his terms. How he wanted it. When he wanted it. He never even asked. Now I'm old enough to support myself, and he shows up wanting to be a bigger part of my life. Still on his terms though. I have to leave my friends, my job, and the place I call home to go to Chicago to be with him if I want a relationship. That's BS."
I couldn't really argue with that logic. Still, it was nice to be wanted. "Is he mad?"
Freddie's face scrunched into an adorable confused look. "It's not anger, but I don't know what it is. The last couple times he's showed up to talk to me about it, he's almost been desperate." He shrugged. "I don't get it."
He grabbed the empty dish rack and headed to the kitchen to get another load of clean dishes. Mandi passed him in the doorway and made her way over to me. "I made the call. Officer Faria is on his way to Seattle to the lab. They expect the court order to come through by end of business today, but they can't officially collect the band's DNA until all the i's are dotted and t's are crossed. Faria, based on your suggestion, got them to authorize one preliminary and rush DNA sample testing."
"No pressure there…"
Mandi laughed. "Not to worry. Detective Marshall says if the DNA doesn't come back as a match to the murder weapon, he's sending you the bill."
Thanks to a nice bank balance, I was okay with that development. "I can live with that." I moved her back to the server area where no patrons were around. "Something's just not adding up. Based on circumstantial evidence, Tommy is the logical choice. But there's no motive. None that I've been able to come up with anyway."
Mandi sucked her top lip between her teeth, something she did when she was worried.
"What's wrong?" Might as well get all the bad news out at once.
"I read up on DNA testing back when my father was arrested. While they've made progress in the speed of the results, my guess is the best the lab could do would be a twenty-four-hour turnaround."
This was really bad news. "Mandi, the band is going to leave either tonight or in the morning. We have to do something."
She gave me a quick hug. "You'll figure something out. You always do. I gotta get back to my tables. We can brainstorm at the first opportunity. Okay?"
Twenty-four hours. That meant the results wouldn't be back until around eleven tomorrow morning. Even if the court order came through and they took official DNA swabs from the band, I d
idn't think they could require them to remain in the state. This went far beyond my Law & Order education.
"Lilly!" Clara called from the kitchen. Not good. Clara never yelled. Ever. I motioned to Tan. "Can you cover the bar? Something has to be wrong in the kitchen."
He nodded and got right to it while I hurried into the kitchen. "What's wrong?"
Clara pointed to a double stack of small boxes, seven high, next to a handsome, but very confused, delivery man. "That's what's wrong. I ordered four more turkeys to get us through the remaining days of our special holiday offering. The delivery man assures me the order says fourteen. I don't have room to store all these turkeys. And he refuses to take them back. Something about a seasonal order."
You know it had to be bad if Tara couldn't even get a word in to finish her sister's sentences. "That is a lot of turkey."
"Enough tryptophan to sedate an entire small town if you ask me."
Everyone stared at me, waiting for an answer. Part of me wished I hadn't told Ruby she could take whatever time she needed at home to get ready for the holiday. I could use her advice about now. Abe's eyes were twinkling with merriment at the situation. Randomly, I thought how nice it would've been if my parents were staying, I could take one of the turkeys for dinner, maybe even invite Abe over. He didn't have anyone either. Actually, there were a lot of misfits here in Danger Cove: Abe, Freddie, me, Tucker, Charlie, and Julie.
Lightbulb. I had an idea that would ensure no one spent Thanksgiving alone and—if all went according to plan—would keep the band here long enough to find out if Tommy really was the killer. I grinned at Clara. "We're going to take them all and sedate a good portion of this town."
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
"What's the plan, Lilly?" Abe was the first one brave enough to ask after the delivery man left.
"As soon as the rush is over, can you head to town with Tara and make sure we have enough fixings to feed about twenty?" I turned to Clara. "Whatever turkeys we don't use for my community meal and the rest of your specials, we'll donate to the Hope Kitchen, our local soup kitchen. I'm sure they will appreciate the extra meat or be able to give us the name of some other nearby place who could use the help."
Deadly Dirty Martinis Page 18
