Playing Dead_ A Novel of Suspense - Allison Brennan [98]
The bartender was going about morning duties—checking stock, filling the cooler with ice from a machine Mitch couldn’t see but heard churning around the corner, on the other side of a neon sign that proclaimed RESTROOMS.
They’d decided on the direct approach. Steve flashed his badge at the bartender and said, “Special Agent Steve Donovan, Federal Bureau of Investigation. My partner, Special Agent Mitch Bianchi. We’re investigating the car that went into the river about two miles up the road. Did you hear about that on the news?”
The bartender walked over to them, leaned against the back bar. “The news? Sure. Heard about it from everyone who came in here the last couple of days. Your people were all over the river, hard to miss what happened.”
“And your name?”
“Tip Barney.”
“This your place?”
“Yep.”
Mitch didn’t reveal that he already had that information and held up a recent picture of Oliver Maddox. “Do you recognize this man?”
Barney took a good look. Shook his head. “Not familiar. He the one who went under?” Barney glared at them. “It wasn’t a drunk driving thing, was it? I don’t let anyone leave here with his keys if he’s drunk.”
“That’s right,” one of the two early morning regulars at the bar piped up. “That’s why I walk here.”
“You only live two blocks away. You need the exercise,” Barney responded.
“We have no evidence that it was a drunk driving accident,” Steve said. “We believe Mr. Maddox was on his way to meet someone here on Sunday, January 20.”
“January? That was awhile back,” Barney said.
Mitch had been watching the bartender closely while Steve asked the questions. When Steve mentioned Maddox’s name, Barney tensed. It was a minor physical reaction, unconscious for the most part. His face didn’t change, but his neck muscles tightened, and he straightened just a fraction.
“Mr. Maddox has been in the river since,” Mitch said.
“I have no objection if you want to flash the picture around, or leave it with me.”
“We know that Mr. Maddox was here that Sunday night near closing. He was likely meeting with someone.”
“I’m really sorry. I wish I could help, but I just don’t remember. Except for a gal who comes in to help me on the weekends, I’m the only one here. Most everyone are locals, but we get a good tourist crowd on the weekends and summertime. People coming in for a beer after a long day on the river.”
“In January? When it’s raining?”
“The fish bite in the rain,” one of the drunks said.
Mitch was on the verge of losing his temper. Something was odd here, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He pulled out his ace and hoped he wasn’t playing his hand too soon.
“Mr. Maddox was looking into the death of one of your former employees,” he said to Barney. “Frank Lowe.”
Barney glanced at Steve, then at the bar. He crossed his arms. “I told the police everything fifteen years ago, and the arson investigator, and the insurance company. They said I had nothing to do with the fire. Hell, it may not have even been arson! The owner of the building put in substandard wiring, that could have done it. Probably was the cause.”
“I didn’t say we were looking into the cause of the fire,” Mitch said. Barney was talking too fast. Something was definitely odd. “Did Maddox talk to you about Lowe?”
“No. If he did, I don’t remember. That was months ago. I don’t even remember the kid coming in here.”
This was going nowhere. Mitch left a copy of Maddox’s picture. “I’d like a list of your regulars.”
Barney laughed. “Just about everyone in town. I’m the only bar.”
The small drunk piped up. “Lora. She’s here every night, till closing.” He winked at Barney. “I think she has a thing for you, Tip.”
Tip turned red. Mitch had never seen a man blush before.
“Don’t go bothering Lora,” he said.
Steve approached the men at the end of the bar, notepad in hand. “Lora?”
“Lora Lane. Nice name, eh? Lora Lane. Yep. She’s