Murder on the Rocks

by Allyson K. Abbott

  “I don’t really care what it seems like, I’m telling you I had nothing to do with Ginny’s death. And I’m done talking.” Kevin got up from his chair, pushed past me and Duncan, and stormed out of the office.

  I gave Duncan an irritated look. “I don’t like playing bad cop,” I said.

  “Too bad, because you’re very good at it.”

  I sighed and shook my head in frustration. Anxious to control any damage I might have done, and worried that Kevin might scare away other customers, I went after him. I pushed past Duncan, thinking he might follow, but he hung behind instead. I expected Kevin to make a beeline for the exit, but like Tad, he went for the bar. I hurried up beside him and said, “Kevin, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you but the cops keep giving me information that’s scary, things that point to people I know. I’m just trying to watch my back.” I paused, glanced around the bar warily, and added, “I’m afraid, Kevin. Afraid the cops might arrest me at any moment, and I’m also afraid I might be the next victim.”

  Hearing the concern and fear in my voice, which was genuine, Kevin’s angry posture relaxed. He waved away my concern. “You don’t need to apologize, Mack. I get it. I’m sorry if I overreacted.”

  “You didn’t. It’s scary being a suspect. Believe me, I know.”

  Kevin flashed me a sympathetic smile.

  “Tell you what, Kev. Let me fix you a drink on the house to make up for all the trouble.”

  “Thanks, Mack. That’s sweet of you.”

  Duncan, who had taken his time leaving the office, walked up behind Kevin and gave him a pat on his back. “Man, that was rough on you, my friend,” he said in his best-buddy voice. “Mack here had you squirming in the hot seat.”

  “No kidding,” Kevin said, but there was no more anger in his tone. He grabbed a napkin from the bar and started dabbing at the beads of perspiration that had broken out along his hairline and collar. “Got something that will cool me down, Mack?”

  “I do. I’ll make you a Milwaukee River Iced Tea.” I suggested. “It’s guaranteed to cool both your temperature and your temperament.”

  Kevin smiled. “I’ll take it.”

  I led Duncan behind the bar, grabbed a cocktail shaker, and talked him through what I was doing as I made the drink. “The beginning part of this drink is the same as a Long Island Iced Tea,” I said, scooping ice into the shaker. “Mix together an ounce each of vodka . . . gin . . . rum . . . tequila . . . Triple Sec . . . and lemon juice.” Having added each of the ingredients, I put the top on the shaker and handed it to Duncan, eager to watch him in action again. “You shake it up good for about thirty seconds and then pour it into a glass. If you’re making a Long Island Iced Tea you top it off with cola, but for the Milwaukee River version, you top it off with beer.”

  I let Duncan finish off the drink and when he was done and served it to Kevin, I said, “Fair warning, Kevin. That drink packs a punch.”

  “I could use one right about now,” he said. He took the glass, took a sip, and his eyes grew huge. “Wow, you weren’t kidding.”

  “Too much? I can make you something else.”

  “No, this is fine.” He took another sip and smacked his lips. “I’ll go slow with it,” he said, putting the drink down. “Thanks, Mack.”

  “You’re very welcome.”

  “And just for the record, I didn’t kill Ginny.”

  He said this loud enough that several people nearby turned to look at us. Their expressions weren’t wary or worried, just curious.

  I smiled and said, “Just for the record, neither did I.”

  Duncan and I dodged between Billy and Gary to get out from behind the bar. Gary was in silent scowling mode, but Billy grabbed me by my arm before I could get away. “What’s going on in your office?” he asked.

  “I’m talking to some of my customers about stuff the cops have told me about Ginny’s death.”

  Gary overheard this and his face fumed a brilliant shade of red.

  “Why?” Billy asked. “Do you think someone here killed Ginny?”

  Duncan jumped in before I could. “If you think about it, it makes sense to think the killer is someone who knows Mack and the bar.” Then he looked at me and added, “By the way, I overheard those cops who were in here earlier say your coffee rocks. Word is spreading. I suspect you may be building a whole new clientele.”

  Gary muttered a profanity and walked away. I knew why he was upset but I wasn’t sure what to make of this information either. On the one hand, more customers was a good thing, and if those customers were cops, they did bring with them a certain sense of security. But I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be running a cop bar. Some people are uncomfortable having a bunch of cops hanging out at the bar, off duty or not. I worried that any customers I might gain would be more than offset by how many I’d lose.

  Missy, looking adorably flustered, dashed up to the bar and handed me a fistful of food orders. “Mack, where have you been? Can you do these for me? I can barely keep up with the drinks.”

  “Sure,” I told her. I took the food orders from her and headed for the kitchen with Duncan on my heels. Once we were inside the kitchen I handed the food orders to Helmut and then pulled Duncan aside. “Any more questioning will just have to wait. I need to get back to my customers. This is a much bigger crowd than my usual Friday night turnout. I had no idea a back alley murder would drive in this kind of business. Maybe I should commit one nightly.”

  I laughed but Duncan didn’t, and I realized my comment, though it was meant to be funny, probably sounded crass. When I saw the calculating way Duncan was scrutinizing me, I realized it also sounded like a confession.

  Since Helmut was a little overwhelmed, Duncan and I got busy helping with the food orders. There was no talk between us outside of the occasional “Excuse me,” or “Please hand me that plate.” I started wondering about Duncan’s willingness to let me handle these questioning sessions in order to get my special take on the people and discussions involved. He claimed to be interested in how I interpreted things through my synesthetic filter, and yet he hadn’t bothered to ask me for any feedback thus far. Why was that? Was it all a façade put on for my benefit? Was I the real primary suspect here?

  I pondered all this in the back of my mind as we worked to get the food orders made and delivered. Once things were caught up, Duncan disappeared into my office, presumably to make some more phone calls.

  I was debating following him in there when Zach showed up. His smiling face was a welcome sight and his easygoing, reassuring personality felt like just what I needed at the moment. He was still dressed in his uniform, and the tight-fitting white shirt outlined his physique nicely. I took a second to admire his broad shoulders and slim waist before heading toward him.

  I met him midway between the bar and the door and he gave me a quick peck on the cheek, knowing I don’t approve of public displays of affection when I’m working. “How’s everything going?” he asked. “I’ve been worried about you all day.”

  “I’m doing fine.”

  “Looks like it’s been a busy night.”

  “That it has, which has me both delighted and exhausted.” I blew a stray lock of hair off my face. “I think we’re caught up at the moment. Want something to eat?”

  “Absolutely,” Zach said, patting his stomach. “I haven’t had dinner and we’ve been running hard all day.”

  “Come on and I’ll fix you something.” I took him by the hand and led him into the kitchen. Though I don’t allow customers into the kitchen, Zach was more than a customer and in his case I made an exception. Helmut gave us a cordial nod as I led Zach over to the sink area. Once we got there, Zach pulled me to him with the hand I was holding, and turned me so my back was against the sink’s edge. He moved his body in front of mine, leaving the two of us in full frontal contact, his face inches away from mine.

  “I was worried about you all day,” he said, his breath warm on my face.

  “You were?”<
br />
  “I was.”

  “I was fine. I still am. Honest.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  With that his face closed the gap between us and our lips met. It wasn’t our first kiss by any means, but it was the first of its kind. There was a heightened level of intensity that triggered a vivid burst and flow of colors in my mind, like a spectacular display of the Northern Lights.

  It was as if some invisible barrier between us had unexpectedly disappeared. I felt this sudden compulsion to open myself up more, to let other people in, to once again risk an emotional investment. And I sensed it wasn’t just me; Zach seemed more earnest, too. Was it some strange affirmation of life triggered by his fear earlier in the day that I might have been the victim he heard about on his scanner? Or was it something else?

  I barely had time to process these thoughts when someone cleared their throat nearby, forcing Zach and I to break apart. I assumed it was Helmut, but when I looked I saw Duncan standing there staring at us with an expression of consternation. I heard a noise that sounded like a schoolgirl giggle and I wasn’t sure if it was a synesthetic experience or a sound I’d actually made.

  “Who are you?” Zach asked Duncan.

  “New employee,” Duncan said. “I’m a friend of Mack’s from way back when we were kids. She’s been kind enough to give me a job until I get back on my feet.” Duncan then shifted his attention to me. “I didn’t realize you allowed non-employees to come into the kitchen,” he said as I hid what felt like bruised lips behind the back of my hand. “Isn’t that a health violation or something?”

  Helmut snorted a laugh. Something in Duncan’s tone irked me and I shot back with the first thing that came to mind. “I don’t think so since this is a family-owned business and Zach is a part of my family.” Even as the words came out I wished I could take them back. Yes, I felt a new willingness to explore and be more open to emotional connections, but I didn’t want to mislead Zach, and I still felt confused about exactly where our relationship stood, or where it was going. Calling him family was a bit of a stretch and judging from Zach’s expression, a surprise to him, as well.

  “I see,” Duncan said. “Sorry to interrupt your family moment, but there’s a cop out front who wants to speak to you. He says he has some new info. I put him in your office. I hope that’s okay.”

  “That’s fine,” I said with a sigh.

  Duncan switched his attention back to Zach. “Have the cops talked to you yet?” he asked.

  If he meant the question to rile, he succeeded. “Me?” Zach said, looking askance. “Why would they want to talk to me?”

  Duncan shrugged. “Did you know the murdered woman?”

  “Well, yeah, but not very well and—”

  “So far everyone seems determined to lie about, or minimize their connections to this woman,” Duncan said, interrupting.

  Zach looked at me. “Is that true? Are people lying about knowing Ginny?”

  “Some have, yes.”

  “And you have an apparent connection to Mack and the bar,” Duncan continued. “Based on what I’ve seen so far, that’s all it takes to get your name on the cops’ suspect list.”

  “Suspect list?” Zach said, sounding incredulous. “That’s just ridiculous.”

  “Maybe not.” Duncan went on. “Is today the first time Mack has allowed you back here into the kitchen area?”

  “No, but what’s that got to do with anything?”

  “The cops said the knife that was used to kill Ginny might have come from Mack’s kitchen.”

  Zach looked alarmed. “Is that true, Mack?”

  “Apparently,” I said, shooting Duncan a look of irritation.

  Helmut, who was doing an admirable job of looking disinterested up until now, stopped what he was doing and turned to face us, clearly interested.

  Zach pondered things for a few seconds and then gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Wow, you really have had a hell of a day, haven’t you?” I didn’t answer, figuring the question was rhetorical. “I don’t mind talking to the cops and I’ve got nothing to hide.” Zach went on. “But it is late and I have to be back on duty at seven in the morning. I don’t want to get tied up here by some condescending detective conducting a shot-in-the-dark interrogation.” I felt, or rather sensed Duncan tensing up and bit back a smile. “So I’m going to scoot out of here.”

  “Are you sure?” I said, feeling more relief than disappointment, though I wasn’t sure why.

  “I’m sure. I’ll check with you tomorrow, but in the meantime, I want you to be careful and watch yourself.” Then he turned to Duncan and said, “Keep an eye on my girl here, okay?”

  “You bet I will. I’ll be watching her like a hawk,” Duncan said, and I could tell from the hint of a smirk on his face that he was enjoying the irony of the moment. If the smirk on Helmut’s face was any indication, so was my cook.

  Zach took hold of my shoulders then and pulled me closer. I knew he meant to kiss me and, very aware of Duncan’s presence, I turned my head to the side, offering up my cheek. My brain felt scattered and in an effort to center myself, I focused on a spot on the sleeve of Zach’s shirt, near the shoulder, where there was a small, dark red blotch amidst the otherwise pristine white.

  Zach, however, refused to be deterred. He took hold of my jaw and gently turned my face back to his. Resigned to his kiss, I didn’t turn away again. I just closed my eyes to shut Duncan out of my mind. But as Zach’s lips touched mine, I caught a whiff of a slightly foul, almost earthy smell and I pulled back away from him, blinking in confusion.

  “Mack? What’s wrong?” Zach asked, sounding both concerned and impatient. “Are you upset about something?”

  As he spoke his breath came to me smelling faintly minty. I realized the other smell, which was already fading, had to have been a synesthetic reaction. And it was a smell I felt certain I remembered from that morning, from out in the alley where I found Ginny’s body.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, taking a step back from him and giving my head a shake. “I felt light-headed all of a sudden. It’s probably just low blood sugar. I haven’t eaten anything in a while.”

  Looking reassured by my explanation, Zach released me. “Well, you need to take care of that before you do anything else,” he said. “I have to run, but I’ll stop in after my shift ends tomorrow night, okay?”

  Zach left and Helmut turned his attention back to his food duties, or at least that’s how it looked. I suspected the old man heard a lot more than he let on.

  Duncan said, “How long have you been dating Zach?”

  “Several months. We met not too long after my father’s death.” I started to explain how the timing and my emotional state had kept the relationship on a slow track but Duncan stunned me into a momentary silence with his next question.

  “Are you in love with him?”

  I thought about it for several seconds before I answered him. “I care about him, I like him, I have fun with him, but it’s too early for me to say that I love him.”

  “Does he like the fact that you own a bar?”

  I stared at him with a mixture of confusion and awe, wondering if he could read my mind, or Zach’s. “No, not particularly,” I admitted. “His objections stem mostly from how much of my time the bar consumes, though he also gets a little jealous at times, even though I’ve told him any flirtatious banter I engage in is just to create atmosphere and keep my customers happy. He understands that but still doesn’t like it.”

  “I don’t blame him. You’re an attractive woman and I’m sure some of the men have more than banter in mind when you engage them.”

  “I can handle myself,” I said, blushing and tasting sweet chocolate.

  “Yes,” Duncan said, raising his brows. “I’ve seen that you can.”

  “Anyway, Zach has suggested several times that I should sell off the bar and do something else that would give me more free time to explore life and our relationship.”

  “And
you continue to tell him no, yes?”

  “Yes,” I said with a cautious smile. “How did you know?”

  Duncan shrugged. “I have something of a sixth sense when it comes to reading people. You’re not the only one with freaky superpowers, you know.”

  I laughed. “Superpowers? Hardly. But freaky . . . I’ll concede that one. Now I best go and see what this cop wants.”

  “Aren’t you going to eat something first?”

  I shook my head. “I had a sandwich about an hour ago. I’m fine.”

  Duncan narrowed his eyes at me. “I thought you were feeling light-headed.”

  “Oh, that,” I said with a dismissive wave. “I’m better now.”

  “You had one of those things, one of your experiences, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, but as I told you before, I have them all the time. It was nothing.” He continued to scrutinize me and I could tell he was skeptical, so to avoid any more questions I headed for the kitchen door, pausing just before I went through it. “Are you coming with me?” I asked over my shoulder.

  “Of course I am. I made a promise to watch out for you, remember?”

  “So you did.”

  “And I intend to keep it. I’ve got an eye out for you, Mackenzie Dalton.”

  I realized I kind of liked that idea.

  Chapter 12

  It turned out the cop in my office didn’t want to speak to me at all. He was merely there to relay information between Duncan and Jimmy without either blowing their covers. In order to do so, Duncan had escorted the cop to my office and come to fetch me, making it appear as if I was the one the officer wanted to see.

  Instead, I stood by the door to my office while the cop and Duncan huddled in the back corner exchanging hushed whispers. When the officer finally left, Duncan walked over to me, reading over some notes he’d written down. I was anticipating him offering a suggestion as to who I should talk to next, but of all the people I thought he might mention, the Signoriello brothers weren’t among them.

  “The Signoriellos?” I said askance. “Why? You can’t seriously think they’re suspects. Those two old coots wouldn’t and couldn’t hurt a fly.”