Murder on the Rocks

by Allyson K. Abbott

  This somewhat nefarious connection between Ginny and Gary got me to wondering if the two of them might have been in cahoots together. Had Ginny’s relationship with my father had an ulterior motive? But if so, what had it been? I know Ginny pestered my father on a regular basis about selling the bar, supposedly so the two of them could take the money and use it for travel and other niceties while in retirement. But her efforts had continued after my father died, with me as the main focus. Since any monies gained from the sale at that point would no longer benefit Ginny outside of her usual commission, I had to wonder what her motive could have been. Had she known something about the area that she didn’t share? Had she been privy to a planned project that might have made the property worth more than we thought it was, kind of like Tad’s investment fiasco? Maybe Ginny had wanted my father to sell the place so she could buy it herself under some surreptitious corporate identity so she could then turn around and resell it for a handsome profit.

  Throughout the rest of the night, I kept looking over at Gary and pondering this new information. I couldn’t understand how what Duncan told me could be true, in part because I couldn’t believe my father would have hired someone with a criminal background. But the other reason I found it hard to believe was Gary himself. Sure he was a bit gruff at times, and his communication skills weren’t stellar, but he’d never given me any reason to doubt him. Plus, he was a valuable employee who knew how to mix a drink, break up a fight, and intimidate people when necessary. It was exactly what a small bar like mine needed in a bouncer. Still, if what Duncan said was true, I was going to have to let Gary go.

  Because we were so busy, I convinced Duncan to put off questioning Gary until after we closed. The time went by fast and I got caught up enough in the tasks at hand that I was able to forget about all the death stuff for brief periods of time. But it never lasted long. Conversations around the bar inevitably settled on Ginny’s murder, and my little group of regulars were sharing notes and dissecting their “evidence” in an effort to help clear themselves.

  I watched Gary closely through the rest of the shift. He had to know the fingerprint evidence would bring his past to light and, in my opinion, the fact that he stayed on duty was a point in his favor. I mean, if he was guilty of killing Ginny, wouldn’t he just run knowing that his criminal background was about to be revealed? Despite that, there was no getting around the fact that he lied to me, and that filled me with both anger and sadness, anger that my father and I might have been duped by a talented con artist, and sadness over the thought that someone I knew and trusted might be a cold-blooded, heartless killer.

  When closing time finally arrived, several customers lingered over their last drink, reluctant to leave. Eventually we shooed them all out and locked the door behind them, leaving only me, Duncan, and the staff on hand. As Billy and the others went about their closing and cleaning duties, I took Gary aside and asked him to step into my office so I could talk to him.

  Duncan came along and as soon as I shut the office door, I could tell from Gary’s expression that he knew what was coming. He eyed us warily, suspicion and paranoia stamped on his face. I directed him to take the seat across from me as I settled in behind my desk. Duncan remained standing at the door.

  “Gary, I learned some rather disturbing news from the police tonight,” I said.

  Gary stared back at me and said nothing.

  “They told me you were in prison, and that you did time for robbing a store. Is that true?”

  Gary clenched his teeth, his jaw muscles twitching as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. After a few seconds he said, “I figured you’d find out when they insisted on printing me. I did the time, but I didn’t do the crime, at least not that one. I messed up and did some time in juvey for some drug stuff when I was a kid, but this last time they got the wrong man.”

  So there it was. The rumor was now a fact. My heart sank.

  Duncan scoffed. “Yeah, that’s what every con claims. The prisons are full of innocent people.”

  Gary clenched his teeth again and gripped the arms of his chair so tight his knuckles turned white.

  “Why did you hide it?” I asked him. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in prison?”

  “Your father didn’t want you to know. He said it might make you uncomfortable. Apparently he was right.”

  “Dad knew?”

  “Of course he knew,” Gary said, sounding irritated.

  “I don’t believe that,” I countered, shaking my head with disbelief.

  “Believe what you want. Your father was a good man and he knew about my past, but was willing to give me a chance. I thought about telling you after he was . . . after he died. But I like this job. I like working here. I didn’t want to risk getting fired. It’s hard enough for an ex-con like me to find a job of any sort.”

  “The cops also said your cellmate was Ginny’s son.”

  Gary looked surprised, then mad, though I wasn’t sure if it was over the news, or the fact that I knew it. “You think I killed Ginny?” he said, his face tight with anger.

  “Did you?”

  “Of course not. Why would I?”

  “Well, Ginny was always trying to convince my father to sell this place. When he died she started working on me.”

  Gary’s eyes narrowed at me and his complexion went red. “Are you suggesting that I had something to do with your father’s death, too?”

  “I don’t know what to think, Gary. All I know is that you have a criminal past and you lied to me about it.”

  Gary was clearly livid and he leaned forward, closing the distance between us and making Duncan step closer to him. “Like I said before,” Gary said in a low, barely controlled voice, “I didn’t do the crime they convicted me for. And I explained to you why I didn’t tell you about it. Your father didn’t want you to know.”

  Silence hung between us for a few seconds, encased in tension thick enough to slice. “I’m not buying it, Gary,” I said finally. “There have been too many strange things going on around here lately: watered-down booze, missing money, that cockroach thing a couple of months ago. Were you behind any of that? Were you and Ginny working together, trying to drive my father, and now me, out of business? Did you kill Ginny because she knew too much?”

  Gary glowered at me and then stood suddenly, shoving his chair back, and leaning over the desk. The chair hit Duncan, who then shoved it aside and closed in on Gary. “I didn’t do anything!” Gary seethed.

  Duncan grabbed Gary’s arms and yanked them back; then he shoved him across the room and up against the wall. It was an impressive move given that Gary outweighed him by about fifty pounds and looked like a mad bull facing down a red cape. Duncan then twisted one of Gary’s arms up tight against his back, making the bigger man wince.

  “I think it’s time for you to go,” Duncan said in a voice that sounded calmer than I knew he was.

  Gary remained tense for a few seconds, then he sagged. “You’re a cop, aren’t you?” he said. “That crap about being an old family friend was just a story, wasn’t it?”

  Seeming to sense that Gary had calmed, Duncan released his hold on him, though he stood nearby looking ready to pounce again if the need should arise. Gary turned around slowly, massaging his twisted arm and eyeing Duncan with a menacing look.

  “Yeah, I’m a cop,” Duncan said. “And you’re lucky I’m not arresting you right now.”

  “Why aren’t you?” Though the words were a taunt, Gary’s tone sounded only curious. “If you think I’m a killer, why aren’t you taking me in?”

  “Because I don’t have any concrete evidence to prove it right now, but I promise you I am looking. And the second I find something, I’ll be knocking on your door.”

  Gary looked over at me with a sad expression. “I didn’t do this, Mack. You’ve got to believe me.”

  I shook my head and sighed. “I don’t know what to believe, Gary. But I think it’s best if we part ways for now. I’m afraid I’
m going to have to let you go.”

  Gary deflated like an untied balloon. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but didn’t utter a word. Instead he just turned and headed for the door.

  Duncan opened it for him and got the last word in as Gary walked out. “I suggest you not leave town.”

  Gary answered him with a bit of profane sign language.

  I got up, walked over to the door, and watched as Duncan followed Gary to the front door. Gary unlocked it and went out without another word. I looked over at Billy, who was watching from behind the bar, and Missy and Debra, who both paused in wiping down tables to watch as well. As Duncan locked the door behind Gary, my employees all turned toward me with questioning looks.

  “I had to let Gary go,” I told them.

  “You mean for good?” Billy said. “You fired him?”

  “I did, yes.”

  Billy cast a wary glance at Duncan, then back at me. “He’s a cop, isn’t he?” he said.

  “Yes, he is,” I admitted.

  Missy frowned at me, then at Duncan, her eyebrows raised in question. “So you’re looking to make a career change then?” she said, looking thoroughly confused. “Does being a cop not pay enough, or are you just tired of all the shooting?”

  I bit back a laugh. I could tell Duncan had no idea how to answer Missy’s questions so I jumped in and saved him from having to try. “He isn’t really here for a job. He wanted to be able to scope out the clientele here in an unthreatening way, so we decided to pass him off as a new employee.”

  “So you’re still a cop just pretending to be a bartender?” Missy said. She arched her eyebrows and added, “Interesting.”

  Debra said nothing; she merely shrugged and went back to cleaning off tables. The woman didn’t impress or surprise easily.

  “He’s not just looking into the clientele, is he?” Billy asked, shifting his gaze to Duncan. “You’re checking us out, too, aren’t you?”

  Duncan nodded. “It’s my job.”

  Billy shot me an accusing look that felt like an arrow to my heart. “You duped us.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry, Billy. It was the only way I could keep the bar open and guarantee you guys your hours. And if it’s any consolation, I’m as much of a suspect as anyone else at this point.”

  “Why did you fire Gary?” Billy asked.

  I started to answer but Duncan jumped in before I could. “We uncovered some irregularities in his past that made it necessary.”

  Talk about a bunch of gibberish, though I had to admire the way Duncan sounded so official without actually stating anything pertinent.

  “Do you think Gary killed Ginny?” Missy asked.

  Again Duncan beat me to an answer. “At this point, we don’t have a clear suspect. But given certain facts we have uncovered, Mack felt it would be best to distance both herself and the bar from Gary for now.”

  Debra, who had remained silent thus far, finally spoke, though she continued wiping tables as she did so and never made eye contact with me or Duncan. “So are you two going to continue this façade, acting like he’s some new employee here?”

  “I’d like to, for another day or two, maybe a little longer,” Duncan said. “It depends on how long Mack will have me.”

  Though Duncan made it sound as if I had a choice in the matter, I suspected otherwise. To be honest, I didn’t mind having him around. In fact, I kind of liked it. I looked over at Billy, Debra, and Missy with a put-upon smile. “Can I count on you guys to be discreet on the matter for another day or two?” I asked them.

  “Are we still suspects?” Billy asked.

  Duncan shrugged. “I haven’t been able to rule any of you out, but you’re all pretty low on my list. And to be honest, I could use your eyes and ears to help me suss out other potential suspects. All of you are good at getting people to talk and open up to you. I could use any information you might be able to dig up.”

  If I expected any of my staff to look flattered or relieved by Duncan’s comments, I was disappointed. No one’s expression changed except Missy’s, who at the moment looked thoroughly confused again.

  Billy flipped the towel he was holding over his shoulder and leaned back against the bar with a scowl and his arms folded across his chest. “I guess we’ll have to play along. It doesn’t look like we have much choice.”

  “Not if you want to keep earning a paycheck,” I said. “I can’t afford to pay you guys if I get shut down.”

  “I’m game,” Debra said, still cleaning and seeming the least affected by it all.

  “So does this mean we’re all kind of like undercover agents?” Missy said, her eyes wide, her tone excited. “I think it will be fun sneaking around and asking clever questions like that lady detective Kyra Sedgwick plays. But won’t we have to learn that Carmen Miranda thing first for when we interrogate people?”

  Billy rolled his eyes and I had to smile. I was fairly certain the chance of Missy asking one clever question, much less multiple ones, was slim at best.

  “You don’t need to interrogate anyone,” Duncan said. “I just want you to let me know if anyone says or does anything that seems suspicious.”

  “Woo-hoo! Fun times!” Missy said, and then she went back to cleaning tables.

  I gave Duncan a weary look and said, “This kind of fun I could do without.”

  Chapter 15

  It turns out murder can be quite profitable. My proceeds for the night were several hundred dollars above my average. That made me happy, but I also felt guilty, as if I was somehow cashing in on the tragedy of Ginny’s death.

  After Billy, Debra, and Missy left for the night, Duncan and I settled in at the bar. I mixed us both a drink and took the seat next to him. “What’s this?” Duncan asked, eyeing the drink skeptically.

  “Something I call Summer Lightning Lemonade. Every summer I make up a vodka infusion with summer raspberries, blackberries, and blueberries. Then I pour half an ounce each of the vodka infusion, gin, white rum, Triple Sec, and tequila over ice, add two tablespoons of lemon juice concentrate and shake it all up. I top it off with a little 7-Up to give it some fizz and voilà . . . a nice thirst quencher with a hell of a kick to it. It’s not summer but it feels like it, so I thought it would be appropriate.”

  Duncan took a sip and made an approving face. “This is good,” he said. “I thought it would be too frou-frou, but it’s not.”

  “Are you afraid a frou-frou drink will somehow threaten your manhood?”

  Duncan scoffed and put on a stern expression. “I’m man enough to drink the frilliest drink you want to make me,” he said in an exaggeratedly deep voice. He took another swig to prove his point and I hid a smile when I saw his eyes water.

  “So what are your thoughts after your first night here?” I asked after taking a big swallow of my own drink, just to prove I could. “Anyone stand out to you other than Gary?”

  “Several people. There’s no shortage of motives and I’ve learned over the years that no matter how unlikely it seems, anyone is capable of killing under the right circumstances. We’re really a rather brutal race.”

  “That’s depressing.”

  “It’s reality.”

  “Who’s highest on your list?”

  “Well, Gary, obviously. I’m going to have my guys search his place, pull his financials, and have a chat with his parole officer.” He paused, sipped his drink, and then said, “You mentioned something earlier when we were talking to Gary that I wanted to ask you about—missing money, watered-down booze, and cockroaches? What was all that about?”

  I sighed and took a big swig of my drink before I answered. “I’ve had a lot of strange things happen lately, things I can’t really explain. A couple of times I’ve discovered that some of my bottles of booze have been dumped out and replaced with colored water. Problem is I didn’t realize it until I’d served the stuff to my customers, who then thought I was trying to rip them off. At one point I thought it might be a supplier p
roblem, but it happened more than once with different brands from different suppliers.

  “I’ve also had a problem with money disappearing. At the end of the night I count up my till, and any cash and receipts I have get stored in the safe in my office until morning when the bank opens. I don’t make deposits every day so sometimes there will be two or three days of receipts in there. But there have been times when I’ve gone to retrieve the money to make a deposit and I’ve discovered it missing.”

  “Are you sure you locked the safe every time?”

  I nodded. “I might have had some doubts the first time I found money missing, but after that I was very careful about it. And I had money go missing at least three more times.”

  “Who knows the combination to your safe?”

  “I’m pretty sure my dad and I were the only ones before he died. Once he was gone I felt like I needed to share it with someone in case something happened to me. So I told Pete and Billy.”

  “Pete?”

  “Pete Sampson. He’s my lunchtime bartender so you haven’t met him yet. He’ll be here tomorrow.”

  “So those are the only two people you’ve given the safe combo?”

  I nodded. “What else? You mentioned something about cockroaches.”

  “Ah, yes, the roaches and the rat.”

  “Rat?” Duncan said with a slight shudder.

  “Yes, a rat. Back in March I noticed a bad smell in the bar, like spoiled meat. At first I thought it was just a synesthetic reaction to something but then my employees and several customers commented on it, so I knew it had to be real. I searched high and low for two weeks trying to find the source while the smell just got worse. I cleaned out the fridge and all the trash cans, I mopped and wiped and bleached and sterilized everything I could find. I even had my water tested, but to no avail. My customer base started falling off; even some of my regulars didn’t come in. Then I finally found where the smell was coming from. There was a dead rat inside a heater vent in the floor over by the other end of the bar.”