Mona Lisa Eyes (Danny Logan Mystery #4)

by Grayson, M. D.

  While I was digging for my wallet, I noticed him giving Toni a pretty thorough checkout. I think she was trying to read the label on a bottle of vodka on the wall behind the bar, so she didn’t notice. Maybe it was just my quickly deteriorating mood, but the guy annoyed me. Everyone stares at Toni, and I’m okay with that. But they’re usually a little circumspect about it when I’m around. This guy was a bit obvious about it. It was almost like he was in a trance, or maybe he just didn’t give a shit.

  Thankfully, the torturous music ended and a slower, slightly mellower piece started up. I slapped a ten-dollar bill on the counter, and that seemed to snap the bartender out of his Toni trance. He snatched up the money like it was about to blow away, and then he turned his back to us and marched on down to the cash register. A minute later, he brought back my change. He put it on the bar and started to turn away.

  Based on what I’d seen, I thought the odds of this guy helping us were slim, but what the hell. “Say,” I said, before he left. “Wonder if you might be able to help us out.”

  He looked at me for a second, then shrugged. “What’d you have in mind?”

  “You got a name?”

  “Terry.”

  “Terry. Good.” I laid the photo of the unidentified blond-haired man with the tattoos on the bar. “We’re looking to talk to this guy here. We think he may come in from time to time. Do you happen to know him?”

  He picked the photo up and looked at it for several seconds. He shrugged, then looked at us.

  “You guys cops or something?”

  “Something.”

  “What do you want him for?”

  “A while back, this girl was murdered.” I slapped the picture of Sophie onto the bar alongside the unknown man. “We think this guy here might have known her, so we’re trying to find him so that we can talk to him.”

  He looked at the photo again for a few seconds, then handed it back. “Never seen him.”

  “Really?” I asked. “If you look close at the picture,” I pointed, “the background here, it looks like it was taken in one of those booths right over there. This guy must have been in here a time or two.”

  Terry stared at me. “Sorry. Can’t help you.”

  “Can’t” or “won’t,” I wondered. It’s funny—some people go out of their way to help right a wrong, even if they don’t have any personal involvement. Others simply clam up. Maybe they’re afraid or maybe they just don’t want to get involved, I don’t know. I wonder sometimes what makes people so different with this. Is it a trait you’re born with—your DNA stamped before you’re even born? This one helps; this one doesn’t—that kind of thing? Or is it a result of our life experiences? Maybe something like you don’t say anything if you see someone shoplifting unless you’ve been ripped off yourself? Like it takes some kind of outside catalyst to raise your level of intolerance?

  I was about to pose this weighty question to Terry when a voice to my right said, “Hey!”

  I turned and saw spiky-haired Leatherman from the group at the other end of the bar. While I’d been talking to Terry and pondering the mysteries of life, he’d walked over with one of his friends and was now standing beside Toni, who was seated to my right. I hadn’t heard him because of the noise.

  I leaned back and looked at him. Up close, I could see that Leatherman was probably thirty years old, maybe five ten or so. He was thin, and his most noticeable feature aside from the acne scars on his face was a three-inch spike that pierced his left ear top and bottom. His leather pants had stylish little silver circles sewn into them on the sides, top to bottom. The man was wearing eyeliner.

  He stared at me for a moment. “Everyone dresses in black here, man.”

  I looked him up and down. “Yeah, I’m starting to see that.”

  “You’re not dressed in black.”

  “I’m not?” I looked down at my clothes, then back up at him. “You’re right.”

  “You’re disrespecting us, man. You should leave and go put something on that’s black.”

  I sighed. Great. There’s a reason I avoid bars. It’s pretty simple—bars are the single place where you’re most likely to bump into a belligerent drunk. From time to time when I have to visit a bar in the line of duty—like now, for instance—I always cringe, hoping I can avoid trouble in the short time I’m there. Sadly, trouble seems to find me in bars, and my track record wasn’t all that good.

  “Well, no disrespect intended. We’ll be leaving soon enough.” If possible, I preferred to not provoke this guy, but at the same time I couldn’t afford to encourage him by projecting weakness, either. In other words, I needed to be right at the intersection of “Excuse us” and “Go fuck yourself.” I settled on, “We were just trying to get a couple of questions answered. Actually, we were just finishing up with Terry here. He was very helpful.” I turned to Terry. “Thanks for the information, Terry.”

  This didn’t make Terry very happy. “Yeah, right. I didn’t tell you shit.”

  “Terry, that’s no way to talk to a customer.” I turned to Leatherman and smiled. “Anyway, since you’re here, maybe you can help. Then we’ll be on our way.”

  He stood there with a confused look on his face and said nothing. Apparently, he hadn’t expected to be questioned. The bartender actually leaned in a little too, as if to hear, but I noticed his right hand slip below the bar as if to grab something. I looked him in the eye, then quickly glanced down at his arm, and straight back at him. I didn’t say anything, but he froze. I hoped he’d stay that way for a few seconds, and I turned back to Leatherman.

  “You ever see this guy?” I held up the picture. Leatherman stared for a few seconds but didn’t answer. Truthfully, I’m not sure he could even focus. “Yes? No? Nothing?”

  “How about you?” I asked his buddy, who’d walked up behind him. I shifted the picture so that he could see. He was a short, balding man, wearing a black T-shirt over black jeans.

  “What’d you say?” he asked in a feisty, puffed-up kind of way.

  “I said,” speaking slowly and loudly, “have—you—ever—seen—this—guy? Do you know who he is?” He started to look, when Leatherman suddenly stepped forward and blocked his view. He was now standing right behind Toni. Tactically, this wasn’t good, and I’m sure Toni didn’t think much of it, either, but she didn’t move.

  Leatherman looked at me and then gave me a bit of a sneer. “We don’t come here to be hassled by cops.”

  “They’re not cops,” Terry said quickly. I glanced at him and saw that he was still staring at me, his hand still poised beneath the counter.

  “Not cops?” Leatherman said. “What’s this guy to you then? What do you want with him?”

  Toni had had enough of the guy standing right behind her. She slid out of her seat in my direction and turned toward him in the tight space between our seats, which was my cue to also slide out of my seat and turn to face them. Toni moved to my right and as she did so, she said, “We want to talk to him because we think he might have been friends with a girl who was killed.” If Leatherman or his feisty buddy decided the thing to do was to go to blows, at least we were both standing and facing them now.

  Leatherman, standing only a few feet from us, checked Toni out closely, and then he turned to me. “Don’t you think it’s about time you should leave?”

  I stared back and gave a little nod. “Yeah, actually I think it’s getting pretty close to time.”

  “Good.” He turned to Toni and gave her an ugly, lewd smile. “You can stay, though, sweetheart. You’ll have fun. I’ll bet we can show you a hell of a lot better time than this guy.”

  Toni looked at him for a second and pretended to consider their offer. “Nah, thanks for the invite, but I don’t think so.”

  “You sure?” Leatherman persisted.

  She smiled and shook her head. “Sorry, guys,” she said, nodding toward me. “This guy here’s already more man than I can handle, know what I mean? The man’s like . . .” She spread her
hands apart, maybe eighteen inches. “Now, I’m sure that the three of you wouldn’t . . .” Her voice trailed off as she moved her hands together until they were no more than a couple of inches apart. She shrugged.

  Leatherman apparently didn’t appreciate the comment. “We’re all grown-assed men, here, sweetheart.” Surprisingly quick, he reached out and grabbed Toni’s left arm just above her elbow.

  Big mistake. I’m okay with looking. Touching: not so much. Toni started to move just as my left hand shot out in front of her and grabbed Leatherman by the wrist. At the same time my right hand grabbed a handful of his left shoulder and spun him toward the bar. Toni slipped neatly behind me as I propelled Leatherman forward. I pushed his left arm up between his shoulder blades in a classic hammerlock as I slammed him into the bar in the space between the seats—firmly, but not hard enough to do damage. I levered his arm just enough to wake him up. Leatherman never knew what hit him. But when he figured it out, he howled like I’d set him on fire.

  “Owww! Let me go! You’re breaking my shoulder!”

  “No, I’m not,” I said.

  “Let him go!” Terry yelled.

  I glanced at Terry to make sure he wasn’t about to do anything rash. He looked all tensed up, but his hand was still hidden ominously below the bar. I looked down at Leatherman. “You can look,” I said quietly, “but you can’t touch. Those are the rules. Got it?”

  “I said let him go!” Terry yelled again. I looked up. Now both hands were visible—he was brandishing the fat part of a two-piece pool cue.

  “Yeah, asshole,” Mr. Short-and-Bald said. The song was fading out, which made it easy to hear a loud click. I recognized the sound. I quickly looked over, and Short-and-Bald was holding a nasty-looking switchblade.

  Terry heard it too. “Put it away, Mike,” he said, slowly and deliberately. “This is not going to happen inside here.”

  I was about to let Leatherman go just as Mike dropped into a fairly sloppy excuse for a fighting stance, one foot behind the other, knees bent. He had a look in his eye that might have been menacing if he were sober. That said, I’ll be honest: knives scare the hell out of me. I’ve seen the damage they can cause, and they give me the heebie-jeebies. We were less than six feet from the guy. If Mike was paying attention and even halfway knew what he was doing, we were already well inside his kill zone. That is to say, he could be on us before we could get our sidearms clear.

  Fortunately, Toni knew this too, because suddenly while Mike was trying to focus on me, a bright red laser dot bloomed, right in the center of his chest. It didn’t waiver. Cool. Advantage our side.

  Only Mike didn’t notice.

  “Dude,” I said, still holding Leatherman against the bar. I nodded toward Mike’s chest. “Take a look.”

  Mike was a little slow, though, and he didn’t seem to get it.

  I nodded toward him again. “Look at your shirt.” I said it slowly so that he’d understand.

  He looked down and saw the red dot. He got smart fast. “Oh, fuck!” He immediately froze.

  “Step back!” Toni said loudly in a strong command voice. I glanced over my shoulder and, even in the dim light, her Glock 23 was clearly visible. I could see sparkles in the air where the weapon’s laser sight bumped into little dust particles. “If you make a single move toward us with that knife, I will shoot you!”

  As the songs were in the process of changing, the place chose that particular moment to go absolutely, church-house quiet. Toni’s words seemed to echo through the bar. The other customers in the bar turned and saw what was happening. Immediately, some froze in place while some ran for the exits. A couple just hit the floor.

  Mike was still frozen, so Toni yelled at him. “I said, step the hell back! Now!” When she yelled, her arms moved just a smidge, causing the laser beam on Mike’s chest to do a little dance right above his heart. He noticed this too, and the effect was immediate. His hand opened automatically and the knife clattered to the ground. He raised both hands above his head and took a step backward.

  “Kick the knife over here! Now!”

  Mike did as Toni had commanded and she, in turn, kicked it all the way over to the other side of the room.

  I looked down at Leatherman. “I’m going to let you go now, okay? You promise to be good?”

  “Yeah,” he said, quickly. I let him go, and he slumped to the floor. I looked at him for a second, then I looked up to Terry. “I think he may have just peed himself. Sorry about the mess.”

  Toni moved a few steps to her right, giving me room to step out from between the stools. She glanced over to me. “You about ready to go?”

  I nodded. “I am.” I pulled my Les Baer 1911 Thunder Ranch Special out. I had no idea whether we were the only ones armed in the place, but I didn’t want to leave it to chance. I turned to Terry. “We’ll be leaving now, Terry. Thanks again for all your help.”

  He flipped me off. I smiled back. The man had guts.

  We lowered our weapons to the low, ready position, about forty-five degrees to the ground, then we slowly started our exit. I walked backward, covering our rear, and Toni watched the front. A minute later, we made it through the vestibule door.

  I was a little concerned about Samoan Randy. I was afraid he might be waiting for us in the vestibule with bad intent. He was big enough that this could have been a problem. Fortunately, I needn’t have worried.

  “That was pretty cool, man,” he said, when we got into the vestibule and closed the door. “I had the door opened a little, and I watched the whole thing. Those little assholes come in here every night and cause trouble. They harass the women, and they get in fights with the men. I gotta toss one or another of them from time to time.” He smiled. “You took good care of them tonight, though. Good work, bruddah!” He held up his massive hand and we did a little fist bump.

  I looked at him. “Thanks.” I noticed that he had a pool cue standing in the corner. I pointed to it. “Can I borrow that for a second?”

  He shrugged. “Sure.” He reached down and handed it to me. I turned it sideways and slid it between the door handles on both of the swinging doors. A strong rush at the door would break it, but anything short of that would slow someone inside down. I only needed a few minutes—just long enough for us to get to the Jeep and get the hell out of there.

  I looked around. “Where’s Amaranth?”

  He laughed. “She freaked, man. She saw what was goin’ down, and she grabbed her phone and bounced.”

  I nodded. “Randy, do me a favor, would you?” I pointed to the door I’d just blocked. “Watch our backs. If anyone comes to this door, stall ’em for a few minutes. I need just long enough to get to our vehicle and clear out of here.”

  He smiled. “No problem with me, dude. But before you go, there’s a couple of things you should know.”

  “What’s that?”

  “First off, that dude you’re looking for? The one in the picture?”

  I nodded.

  “I couldn’t say anything with Amaranth here, but I think his name is Josh—I don’t know his last name. I read it on his uniform one time. I think he works for UPS or something.”

  “Thanks. We appreciate that. What—is he like a delivery guy or something?”

  “I don’t know. He wears a brown uniform—looks like a UPS uniform. He tried to get in one night wearing it. When Amaranth charged him for not wearing black, he got upset. Didn’t want to pay. I had to toss him.”

  “Thanks. That helps.” I turned to leave.

  “Wait,” he said. “There’s one other thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The cops are outside.”

  “What?” I looked toward the front door and sure enough, I noticed for the first time the blue-and-red lights flashing through the gap under the door. “Oh, shit!”

  “Yeah. They pulled up just before you came out. Amaranth must have called 9-1-1 and someone must have been like driving right past.”

  “Great.”
I turned to Toni. “You know what this means, right?”

  “Yep. It means we’re about to get some shit for having a gun inside the bar.” She paused for a moment. “Maybe they’ll buy the self-defense angle. The short bald guy pulled a knife.”

  “That’s true,” Randy said. “I’ll back you up. I saw it.”

  I shook my head slowly and took a little peak through the crack in the door. As I watched through the crack, another squad car pulled up. “We’d better go,” I said. “We don’t want them barging in here all SWAT-like.”

  We raised our hands high above our heads and stepped outside.

  The glare from the spotlight on the police cruiser was blinding. This was good because then we couldn’t see the officers with guns drawn, pointed at us.

  “Get on the ground!” an officer yelled.

  Wonderful, I thought to myself as I dropped to my knees. We could have been at Duke’s watching a ball game.

  Chapter 7

  THANK GOD FOR THE AWNING OUTSIDE the front door. We immediately dropped to a facedown position on the little rug beneath the awning. This was none too pleasant, given the leaves and mud and other crap that had fallen off people’s shoes as they’d entered, but it beat the hell out of having to lie down in oily puddles on the dirty asphalt in the parking lot. That would have been tons of fun. The police would have probably found it amusing, but they damn sure wouldn’t have cared about our clothes getting dirty as long as we were immobile.

  “Nobody move!” the patrolman yelled. The red-and-blue flashing lights reflected off the wet pavement, while the radio calls from the squad cars punctuated the night.

  “Who’s idea was this,” I said quietly to Toni. She was by my side, slightly behind and to the right.

  “Yours.”

  “Bull . . . shit.”

  “I wanted to go watch the football game.”

  I laughed quietly. “Yeah, right. You’re full of crap. You’re going to owe me big-time.”