Jack Daniels and Associates: Snake Wine by Bernard Schaffer Page B
Authors: Bernard Schaffer
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some mystery car that never shows up."
"Do you have any kids?" Frank said.
"No. You?"
"Two little girls," he said. "Well, one's not so little anymore. She's wearing a bra now. Freaks me out kind of, to be honest."
"That's normally what happens when you have girls," I said. "Do either of them want to be cops? Do you tell them all your stories?"
He looked at me and said, "All my stories are about child molesters and heroin users, Jack. No. I don't tell them any of my stories. If they told me they wanted to become cops, I'd ship them off to boarding school."
We arrived at the bar within sight of the courthouse and I parked on the street. It was nearly closing time, and the bartender had propped the front door wide open to let the cool night air dry the floor as he mopped it. There was one old guy sitting by the register, taking his time with the inch of suds left in his glass. Frank and I got out of the car and walked up to the door, and the bartender said, "Sorry, folks. We're closing up for the night."
I held up my badge and said, "We're not here to drink." The old guy at the register took one look at my tin, swallowed the rest of his suds in one gulp and spun around in his seat to head for the rear exit.
The bartender folded his hands on the mop and said, "What's up?"
He was a young kid, early twenties, kept himself in good shape. The tattoos going down the length of his arms to the knuckles of both hands wouldn't help him on any job interviews, but what the hell? In a town like Chicago, people would always need someone to pour them a drink. "We're looking for someone who might have been in here last night. Were you working?"
"Yeah," he said. "But we were pretty crowded last night. Is he a regular here?"
"I don't think so," I said. "It was probably around seven o'clock. You'd remember him, trust me."
"Okay, try me."
I stuck my hands out and said, "He's real, real big. Boisterous personality. Thick mustache. Kind of looks like a cartoon version of a walrus."
He scrunched up his face for a second, then snapped his fingers and said, "Yeah! I remember that guy. He ate, like, forty hot wings."
"That's him!" I said.
"Nice guy," the bartender nodded.
"Exactly," I said. "Now here's the important part. I need you to think about anything he might have said before he left. Did he look concerned? Did he have any trouble with anybody in here? Were there any problems at all?"
"Not that I can think of," the kid said. "Is he in some kind of trouble?"
"No," I said, getting irritated.
"I watch crime shows all the time. Are you looking at him for some kind of investigation?"
Frank tapped him on the arm and said, "The way this works is we take in the information, we don't give it out, all right, Hair Mousse? Now answer the lady so you can get back to cleaning up and go home. Otherwise, it's gonna be a long night for all of us."
"Ease up with the hot cop, scary cop routine, all right?" he said.
Frank looked at me and then back at the bartender and said, "Did you just call Lieutenant Daniels scary?"
"Look, the guy was in here. He minded his business and didn't cause any trouble with anybody from what I could see. Then, him and his lady friend left."
"Lady friend?" I said. "What lady friend?"
The bartender shrugged and said, "Hell if I know, but she was smoking. This Asian number with long black hair. When I saw the two of them leaving together, I thought he must have rented her for the night or something."
I felt like grabbing the little bastard around the throat and slapping him for making up such a stupid story, but before I could spit it out, Frank said, "Are you sure they left together?"
"Positive. She told him it was time to go, he gave her a little bit of a hard time because he wasn't done stuffing his face or something, I guess, but then she said something that made him hop to. If I looked like him, and I was with a woman like that, she wouldn't have to tell me twice."
"That's enough!" I said. "No way in hell was
"Do you have any kids?" Frank said.
"No. You?"
"Two little girls," he said. "Well, one's not so little anymore. She's wearing a bra now. Freaks me out kind of, to be honest."
"That's normally what happens when you have girls," I said. "Do either of them want to be cops? Do you tell them all your stories?"
He looked at me and said, "All my stories are about child molesters and heroin users, Jack. No. I don't tell them any of my stories. If they told me they wanted to become cops, I'd ship them off to boarding school."
We arrived at the bar within sight of the courthouse and I parked on the street. It was nearly closing time, and the bartender had propped the front door wide open to let the cool night air dry the floor as he mopped it. There was one old guy sitting by the register, taking his time with the inch of suds left in his glass. Frank and I got out of the car and walked up to the door, and the bartender said, "Sorry, folks. We're closing up for the night."
I held up my badge and said, "We're not here to drink." The old guy at the register took one look at my tin, swallowed the rest of his suds in one gulp and spun around in his seat to head for the rear exit.
The bartender folded his hands on the mop and said, "What's up?"
He was a young kid, early twenties, kept himself in good shape. The tattoos going down the length of his arms to the knuckles of both hands wouldn't help him on any job interviews, but what the hell? In a town like Chicago, people would always need someone to pour them a drink. "We're looking for someone who might have been in here last night. Were you working?"
"Yeah," he said. "But we were pretty crowded last night. Is he a regular here?"
"I don't think so," I said. "It was probably around seven o'clock. You'd remember him, trust me."
"Okay, try me."
I stuck my hands out and said, "He's real, real big. Boisterous personality. Thick mustache. Kind of looks like a cartoon version of a walrus."
He scrunched up his face for a second, then snapped his fingers and said, "Yeah! I remember that guy. He ate, like, forty hot wings."
"That's him!" I said.
"Nice guy," the bartender nodded.
"Exactly," I said. "Now here's the important part. I need you to think about anything he might have said before he left. Did he look concerned? Did he have any trouble with anybody in here? Were there any problems at all?"
"Not that I can think of," the kid said. "Is he in some kind of trouble?"
"No," I said, getting irritated.
"I watch crime shows all the time. Are you looking at him for some kind of investigation?"
Frank tapped him on the arm and said, "The way this works is we take in the information, we don't give it out, all right, Hair Mousse? Now answer the lady so you can get back to cleaning up and go home. Otherwise, it's gonna be a long night for all of us."
"Ease up with the hot cop, scary cop routine, all right?" he said.
Frank looked at me and then back at the bartender and said, "Did you just call Lieutenant Daniels scary?"
"Look, the guy was in here. He minded his business and didn't cause any trouble with anybody from what I could see. Then, him and his lady friend left."
"Lady friend?" I said. "What lady friend?"
The bartender shrugged and said, "Hell if I know, but she was smoking. This Asian number with long black hair. When I saw the two of them leaving together, I thought he must have rented her for the night or something."
I felt like grabbing the little bastard around the throat and slapping him for making up such a stupid story, but before I could spit it out, Frank said, "Are you sure they left together?"
"Positive. She told him it was time to go, he gave her a little bit of a hard time because he wasn't done stuffing his face or something, I guess, but then she said something that made him hop to. If I looked like him, and I was with a woman like that, she wouldn't have to tell me twice."
"That's enough!" I said. "No way in hell was
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