Last Call

by Libby Kirsch

  She reached down and read the incoming text from her father. Her breath caught in her throat. It was a lot of information—mostly screenshots of heavily redacted files from the old Knox County courthouse.

  My source went down to the file room personally and pulled the case file. You’re welcome.

  It wasn’t a smoking gun, but it was close.

  It was certainly enough to change everything.

  She tucked the phone guiltily into her pocket when O’Dell spoke.

  “So much for a memorial. Makes me more depressed than I was before. Does no one care?” He nodded when she motioned to his glass and she refilled his tea. “How late are you open?”

  “Supposed to be two a.m., but I’m going to call it early.” She felt the weight of O’Dell’s disappointment added to her own, that her plan, however tenuous it had been, was a complete failure. Janet rang the cowbell hanging above the cash register and Nell groaned.

  “Last call!” she shouted, then rang the bell one last time, just to make sure no one could claim not to have heard it later.

  Nell put two fingers out, so Janet lined up two drinks in front of her, then helped a customer cash out before her impatient fingers ran out of things to do. Just as Cindy Lou started to run dirty glasses through the washer, Mel made a funny “hup-hup-hup” sound at the door.

  Janet looked up to see a long, blond, frizzy head of hair sail past the bouncer. Larsa’s eyes scanned the space before locking onto Janet, and she headed, unsmiling, toward the bar.

  “I almost didn’t come, but in the end, I thought, I want to hear what Abe has to say,” Larsa said. “Do you know I’ve decided he must be guilty of something? I’d like to have the chance to ask him some questions.”

  “I . . . I would, too,” Janet said, taking a deep breath, hoping O’Dell didn’t jump up from his seat too quickly.

  “Uh, yeah, we’ll take two frozen margaritas and some kind of loaded fries basket.” A man wearing jean shorts and a bright orange tank top had scooted right in front of Larsa and plopped down in the seat Janet had been saving for her.

  With a frown of distaste on her face, Janet said, “We don’t serve frozen drinks—or food. Do you want it on the rocks? Cindy Lou?” She motioned for the bartender to take over.

  “Hon? On the rocks?” he called back to his date. What ensued was a loud and lengthy back-and-forth conversation on whether a bar could choose to not serve frozen drinks.

  “Sir, if I can have you move away from the bar until you’re ready to place your order—now,” she said with a look that brooked no argument. Larsa stepped up to the empty seat and smiled when Janet placed a glass of fizzy water in front of her and slammed a lime wedge onto the rim. “They should be here any moment.”

  “They?”

  “He, I mean—Abe.”

  “Okay, what about a frozen spritzer?” Orange Tank Top Guy was back.

  “Oh, a frozen spritzer? Let me check.” She stared at the man without moving. “Nope, we’re fresh out of frozen spritzer.” She sent him scurrying back to his date with a glare and Larsa sat down. Before she could say anything, though, the front door opened again, and this time a tall, lanky man walked in, waving off Mel’s attempt to card him. He stalked directly to Janet at the bar as if he’d spotted her from outside and knew just where to go. He stopped behind the row of chairs, towering over Larsa.

  “Don’t do that again, Janet. People at the office are starting to talk—asking questions that I can’t exactly explain to Vanessa.”

  I’ll bet, Janet thought, a grim smile on her face. “You wanted to talk to Larsa, Abe. Here she is,” she said, motioning to the woman just below him.

  He froze and stared at Janet for a moment before his eyes traveled down to Larsa’s golden crown of hair. “Oh. I, uh . . . oh.”

  “Have a seat, Abe.” Janet pulled a pint of beer for him and plunked it down next to Larsa. His face was still slightly stunned as he picked up the beer without taking his eyes off Ike’s daughter and gulped half the glass down. He finally tore his gaze away and looked reproachfully at Janet.

  “I’m serious. You don’t know what my office is like. You can’t go in there telling my receptionist to have me stop by ‘late night’ to discuss things. It sounds dodgy. She’ll tell Vanessa, and I’ll never be able to explain things, especially lately, she’s off her rocker, you saw her—”

  “I don’t plan on visiting you again, so I think we’re all set on that front,” Janet said drily.

  Abe nodded and took another bracing sip of beer.

  “Janet told me you wanted to talk. About what?” Larsa asked in her dreamy way.

  On the other side of the bar, O’Dell fidgeted with his wristwatch.

  “Just wait,” she muttered, and plunked a bowl of trail mix down in front of him.

  She hoped he would stay put. No one had noticed him yet, and she wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible.

  “What’s—”

  “Just wait. And listen.” She tuned back into Abe and Larsa’s conversation.

  “I—well, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for your loss. Sorry about your dad, I mean,” Abe said.

  “You are?” Larsa fixed her large, bulging eyes on him.

  “I am. He changed my life. I don’t thank him for it, but at the same time, I guess I do.”

  “Hmm.” Larsa turned back to her drink, stirring it with the tiny black straw before taking a sip. “I think you brought nothing but heartache to my dad—especially at the end.”

  “I brought heart—what? What do you mean?” Abe asked, incensed.

  “Were you there at the end?” Larsa asked.

  “No—that’s not what I—I just came here—I wanted to talk to you because I know what you must be going through, and I . . . I . . .”

  Larsa ignored his stuttered excuses. “Did he say anything—at the end, I mean?”

  Janet stole a look at Detective O’Dell. Larsa was a better interrogator than he was. O’Dell had pushed his drink aside and stared, captivated, at Abe and Larsa.

  Meanwhile, Abe’s face had turned ashen. His mouth opened and snapped shut wordlessly before opening again. It was another voice that spoke, though.

  “As a lawyer, I recommend you not say anything else, Abe.”

  Janet had been so focused on Abe and Larsa that she hadn’t even noticed Benji sit down on Abe’s other side.

  “Benji,” Abe said, but not with relief—more like accusation. “I think it’s fair—it’s right for her to know—”

  “There’s been nothing fair about this family since they first crashed into our lives, Abe. Like I said, I think it’s time for you to shut up and for us to walk out of this bar and never look back—not at the bar or at that family.” He spat the last word out as if it were a curse. His face was twisted in dislike as he looked at Larsa.

  Larsa blanched at his tone, but Janet, sensing a pivotal moment in the evening, jumped in. “It’s not fair to bleed out alone on the asphalt,” she said. Larsa cringed and Abe looked down at his beer. She held up a hand to cut off Benji’s response. “What happened to your friend Ollie wasn’t fair, either.” She fixed Benji with a stare. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “It’s not that I don’t agree,” he answered in a measured tone. “But sometimes, when shit happens, it happens for a reason.”

  Janet looked reflexively at the swear jar before saying, “Did it happen for a reason anyone here can say?” She looked pointedly at Abe, who was now staring at his drink as if it were an escape potion.

  “I—look, I don’t know what happened, but I was there—here—at the end,” Abe said. “I don’t know who killed your father, though, Larsa.”

  Larsa didn’t say anything, so Janet leaned in to cut Benji out of the discussion. “What do you mean you don’t know? You just said you were here—that night! Who else would know?” Abe shook his head, and Benji stood, trying to pull Abe up by the elbow. “Why were you here, Abe?” Janet demanded. “And more importantly, why did you
put this GPS tracker on Ike’s car?”

  Abe gasped when she placed the small, magnetized device onto the bar in front of him. “How did you—where did that . . .Wait, what happened to it?”

  Janet was ready with a follow-up question, but before she could get it out, Benji said, “Okay, folks, I think that’s enough for the night.” He put his hand on Abe’s shoulder. “Time to go. As your friend, I’m telling you to get a lawyer before you do or say anything else.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “I don’t need a lawyer.” Abe shook his friend’s hand off and drained the last of his beer. “At least, I don’t think so.”

  “As a lawyer, I can tell you that everyone here needs a lawyer.” Benji motioned to the group of people listening raptly and then in an undertone, he said, “And if you think you don’t, I’m almost certain that you really, really do.” But despite his own plea for silence, Benji seemed unable to stop himself from adding, “It’s tearing you up, isn’t it?”

  Abe nodded sharply and then held his glass out to Janet. She pulled him another pint. After he took a slow, steady sip, he carefully placed the glass down in front of him.

  “I think about the accident a lot. Did you know that?” Abe looked up from his glass to meet Larsa’s gaze. “Not just in the last week, either. I mean, I think about it all the time, ever since . . . ever since Ollie died.” He looked away when a tear rolled down her cheek. “I don’t say that to make you feel bad—it’s just how it is. I think about the squeal of the tires, hear the crunch of metal as Ollie went down, and the sound of his head—God, the sound of his head hitting the pavement.” His breath stuttered and he took another drink before looking back to Larsa. “You don’t know how the nurses make fun of me—I tell everyone to wear bicycle helmets. A patient will come into the office asking about a blister on their ass, and I make sure to tell them to wear their helmet next time they ride anywhere before they leave my office. I just can’t stop thinking of that awful sound.”

  He took another shaky breath. “I was always so surprised that I never saw your dad again after Ollie died. One minute, he was there, asking in a slurred voice what he’d hit, and the next, he was gone—ferreted away to safety while I waited with Ollie for an ambulance.

  “Knoxville’s small, you know?” he said to Janet. “It’s a small, big city. Odds were I’d run into him again at some point. I always knew what I’d say—worked on my speech of forgiveness all the time.” He turned back to Ike’s daughter. “It’s not that I wanted him to suffer, but he never apologized, you know? And not just to me! Not to Ollie’s own family, either.”

  When he lapsed into silence, Janet prompted him. “But then you did see him?”

  Abe barked out a laugh. “I didn’t just see him—he hit me with his damn car!”

  Janet sucked in a breath. “What? When?”

  “A few weeks ago. I was coming home from a late shift at the hospital—I fill in sometimes in the emergency department. I was tired as hell, just trying to get home to sleep, when a car came out of nowhere and sideswiped me. I was able to keep control of the wheel, but the other car went careening off the road and slammed into a pole.” Abe ran a hand over his forehead and said, “Of course, I stopped right away to check on the other driver—had the phone to my ear to call 911 when I recognized him. He must have recognized me, too, and started ranting about ghosts from his past. Well, once I realized he wasn’t seriously injured, I—well, I read him the riot act and told him to get off the roads and stop drinking—or at least stop drinking and driving.” His voice had risen over the din of the crowd, and some patrons nearby looked over to see what the fuss was about.

  “You were angry,” Janet said.

  “No, no, no,” he laughed, but the sound wasn’t happy. “‘Angry’ doesn’t begin to describe it. I was livid! He killed my roommate ten years ago and could have killed me that night if I hadn’t moved my car at the right time. Did he learn nothing from Ollie’s death?”

  Janet looked over to see how Benji was reacting. His face was closed off, but he said, “So, you called 911 like any good citizen would have done. Abe, I think that’s enough.”

  Abe shook his head, though. “Don’t you see? It wasn’t enough. He was out there, drinking and driving again! When I saw the ambulance in the distance, I left—didn’t want to stick around and watch him act the victim. I scoured the papers for the next few days and couldn’t believe there was no sign he’d been arrested—or at least charged with DUI.”

  “That’s why you had Benji call and check his record?” Janet asked, remembering her father had told her a lawyer was recently digging into Ike’s history. She was desperate to keep the conversation going.

  “Yes! I don’t understand why he was able to keep wriggling out of being held responsible!”

  Larsa finally spoke. “What did you find out?”

  Benji shook his head. “Abe, I think that’s enough. We don’t owe anyone here anything, and that includes this woman.”

  Janet held the GPS tracker out to reclaim Abe’s attention. “So you took matters into your own hands and contacted the best security expert you could find.” Janet almost smacked herself in the head when she realized what was going on. Jason must have recognized Abe when the doctor came into the Spot and fixed Janet’s finger. Abe hadn’t spared Jason a second glance, he’d been so worried about Vanessa’s assumption he was cheating on her, but Jason must have known at once that Abe was somehow involved in Ike’s death, and that was why he’d disappeared. “Is your car damaged?”

  “Hell yes it’s damaged! The whole driver’s side is smashed in.”

  Janet nodded. Jason’s absence finally made sense—Abe was his client, and Jason was doing his best to protect him. But Abe was nothing to Janet, and she wasn’t about to let him off the hook now, so she pressed on with another question. “You wanted to keep track of Ike at all times. Why? What were you planning?”

  “I thought I could keep him from drinking and driving—or at least make sure he was arrested if he did it again! I figured if his car was at a bar for longer than an hour and then started moving again, that meant that he was drunk and shouldn’t be on the road. I was just going to keep track of him, so I could tip off the police. He shouldn’t have gotten another chance to kill someone! Why am I the only one who seems to feel that way? He was dangerous—and you know what? I’m not sorry he’s dead. Now I can sleep easy at night, knowing the rest of us are safer for it.”

  Janet looked at Larsa. Ike’s daughter stared into her sparkling water, her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. Janet reached out to touch her hand, but Larsa pulled away, shaking her head violently. “No,” she said, finally looking up at Abe. “That’s not true!” She banged her hand down on the bar to emphasize her anger, but then she clamped her lips and fell silent.

  It was Janet who spoke next. “That’s a nice story, Abe, but it doesn’t explain why you were here in the dark, deserted parking lot of the Spot on the night Ike was murdered.”

  “There’s a lot I can’t explain,” Abe said, staring over Janet’s head at the back wall of the bar.

  Larsa wiped away a stray tear that had streaked down her cheek. She mumbled something, and when no one answered, she cleared her throat and said it louder. “Try. You’d better try to explain why you were here the night my father was killed.”

  Abe fell quiet, though. When Janet looked to Benji, she was surprised to see him looking at Abe with a mixture of surprise and concern.

  “Abe, I agree with Larsa. Try.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Abe lifted his glass to his lips and then looked surprised to find that it was empty again. He started to hold it out to Janet, but seemed to think better of it and instead set it down carefully on the coaster in front of him.

  “I can only tell you what I know—and things get hazy at a certain point.”

  “Hazy when you killed my father?” Larsa’s voice was oddly triumphant, and O’Dell sat forward in his seat, staring not at Ab
e, but at Ike’s daughter.

  “No, hazy when he nearly killed me—again.” Abe swirled the foam around at the bottom of his glass and then slammed it down on the counter. “God dang it. Again!” He picked up the GPS tracker. “Yes, I bought this from a security expert here in town and slapped it under Ike’s car one morning. I was on my way to work and made a quick detour to his house—figured he’d be sleeping off whatever hangover he had from the night before and no one would notice.

  “I was mad—just furious—that Ike kept getting away with things. He killed Ollie and suffered zero repercussions, and then he ran me off the road and somehow, instead of getting booked into jail, got a ride home—again. When Benji told me there weren’t any subpoenas or arrest warrants in the system for him, I decided to track him at night, and tip off police when he was at a bar.”

  “That’s not an easy job,” Janet interjected, thinking about how Jason could track someone with all of his specialized equipment and how different it would be for an average joe.

  “Yes, I realized that the first time I tried to see where Ike was. That’s why Vanessa thinks I’m cheating—I’m online all the time, looking up GPS coordinates, trying to see if there’s a bar nearby.”

  “Why didn’t you tell her, man?” Benji asked. “She’d understand.”

  “No, she’d tell me to move on, and I just—I couldn’t. I needed to see justice served just once when it came to this guy.”

  Benji rubbed a hand across his jaw, but he finally nodded.

  “So, last Wednesday night, I was working late but checked to see where Ike’s car was before I left the hospital for home. It was after two in the morning, and there it was, parked right in the lot of a bar. The bar was closed and his car was there—I figured he must have drunk too much and left his car. I thought maybe he had finally learned something.” He looked up. “And I also realized I was being stupid. A GPS tracker on his car? What had I been thinking?”