The Tamarack Murders by Patrick F. McManus Page B

bar.”
    â€œI would love to, but I may have to do some serious drinking later tonight.”
    â€œAh yes, work, work, work.” She laughed and gave him a peck on the cheek. Tully wiggled his toes to see if they had uncurled. There are pecks on the cheek and then there are pecks on the cheek. This was one of the latter.

Chapter 7
    T hat evening Tully parked three blocks away from Slade’s on the other side of the street. As he approached the entrance he could tell it was packed with a rowdy bunch, including the local motorcycle gang and numerous other Blight City characters. If he was ever to meet the person who murdered Vergil, he suspected it would be at Slade’s.
    The roar of the crowd diminished slightly when he walked through the bar’s front door, but only for a brief moment. Then it picked up, the brave music of a local blue-grass band barely audible above the roar of the crowd. A big-bearded biker slapped Tully on the shoulder.
    â€œWhat brings you to this dive, Bo? Out slumming?”
    â€œLooking for bad guys, Mitch. Seen any around?”
    The biker laughed and made a circular motion with his hand to indicate the entire crowd. “Take your pick.”
    Tully shoved his way through to the bar and found Grid sipping a beer, his hat resting on an empty stool next to him.
    â€œI saved one for you, Bo!” Grid shouted above the roar. “A stool is pretty hard to find in here this time of night!” He lifted the hat and put it on. Tully sat down on the stool. Shanks jerked his thumb in the direction of two men seated next to him. He shouted above the roar: “Horace Beeker and Ed Dance!”
    Beeker loomed over the smaller Dance. Both men reached around Shanks and gave him limp handshakes.
    Tully turned to Shanks. “I know a bunch of the crowd in here, Grid, and they’re pretty tough. I’m surprised one of them didn’t just swat your hat off the stool and sit down!”
    Grid shouted back, “Oh, that happened once before, when I was saving a seat for a friend of mine. Since then, nobody has bothered my hat a single time! Don’t know why.”
    â€œWell, maybe Slade’s is drawing a more civilized crowd these days. You think?”
    â€œCould be. Hey there, bartender. Give my friend here a drink!”
    The young bartender ignored him and continued talking to a couple of scruffy individuals across the bar.
    â€œService in here isn’t what it used to be,” Tully said. “It’s always been awful, but it’s worse now.” He yelled at the young bartender. “Hey, bud, we need a little service here.”
    â€œHold your horses!” the bartender snapped back. He went on chatting with his friends.
    â€œExcuse me a second, Grid. Oh, you and your friends might want to lift your drinks off the bar for a few seconds.”
    Grid and the men next to him picked up their drinks and leaned back. Tully grabbed a hinged section of the bar, picked it up and slammed it over with a crash. The crowd went silent. Tully walked behind the bar, gave the bartender a hard shove, then stood there studying the bottles of liquor on a set of shelves. Picking up the most expensive bottle he could see, he grabbed four glasses, walked back, gave the hinged section a flip, banged it back into place, and sat down next to Grid. He filled the four glasses, then set the bottle on the bar in front of them.
    Bit by bit the roar of the crowd resumed, although now with a great deal of laughter.
    Grid said, “Remind me not to try your patience, Bo.”
    Tully smiled. “Ever so often, Grid, a person has to make a grand gesture when dealing with the likes of Slade’s’ clientele. Among other things, it helps keep our criminals in line and rudeness at a minimum.”
    Grid laughed. “It worked on me. I feel a whole lot politer myself.”
    Joey, the regular bartender, walked down behind the bar. “Sorry about that, Bo. The