My blood runs cold. “I am well aware.” And I’ve lost sleep over it, too. I talked to Cole, the bartender who does the schedule, and asked him not to put her on late shifts anymore. Lucky for me, I’m her field supervisor and have a minute say in what goes where as far as Serena is affected—at least concerning the Black Bear. “Look, I’ll go down to the plant myself. I’m an adjunct professor for Briggs, and I’ll tell them I need to drum up a few more internships. It’s easy to fall for.”
His brows bounce in amusement. “Please tell me it’s just a cover. I don’t think I could handle the thought of a bunch of kids from Briggs landing in a murderous pile of manure.”
“It’s a cover. And relax. I can tell this has got you tense. We need to have a little faith in the Hollow Brook PD. They’re on it, man, I swear.” I lean in. “Just between you and me, Serena’s brother is on it, too, and he works for the Jepson division. My guess is, they catch whoever did this in less than a couple of weeks.”
He moans while grinding his palm into his eye. “Fine. But a couple of weeks feels like an eternity, especially when I want to do my best to ensure that my customers and my family are safe. I’m hiring a private security firm to police the Black Bear.”
“Good thinking.” A visual of boys in blue surrounding the place bounces through my mind, and I shake my head at the idea. “On second thought, you might want to make sure to hire plain clothes security. The last thing a bunch of college kids want to do is hang out with a fleet of cops on a Friday night.”
“Shit.” He closes his eyes. “You’re right. Plain clothes it is.” He gives a brisk knock over the table.
Our food arrives, and we chow down. We keep the conversation light, and once we’re through, I offer to pick up the tab.
“Your next meal at the Black Bear is on me.” He stands to leave and slaps me over the shoulder. “Do me a favor and don’t tell Serena about this. I don’t want anyone who works for me to know I’m spooked. But spooked is good. It keeps me on my toes.” He shoots me with his finger and grimaces at the idea of it. “I guess that gesture is off the table. I’ll see you around.”
He ducks out just as Colby Wolf bounds inside. She lifts a hand my way in lieu of a greeting, but her jaw unhinges as soon as she spots Teagan talking to Eli. It takes a few minutes for Eli to untangle himself from that knot before heading over.
“You made a clean getaway,” I say, turning to find both my sister and her best friend looking in our direction. “I’m impressed.”
“I’ve got a couple of errands to run.” His face brightens a shade as if he just spewed a lie, but I do not care. I’ve been in the position where hungry girls are willing to do whatever it takes to get a bite in even if you’re not feeling it. Not that my baby sister should be looking to take a bite out of anyone—nor will I allow it, especially not Eli. I like the guy. The last thing I want to do is to have to knock him into tomorrow.
“Have fun running those errands. If you’re smart, you’ll move quickly.”
His cheek flexes to the side because he realizes he’s been caught red-handed. “Speaking of fun. Did you ever check out that nightclub I told you about?”
“Anonymous?” I whisper in the event Teagan and Colby get any bright ideas. “No, why? You get a discount on your membership if you bring in a friend?”
He barks out a laugh. “I wish. But no. Anyway, you should check it out. It’s a pretty wild scene. And if you do get in and find a smoking hot chick, don’t hesitate taking her to the Panic Room. That’s where all the real fun begins.”
“How so?” And did I need to ask?
“There’s a no kissing, no heavy stuff policy in the club outside of that room. The place is loaded with bouncers. They take their rules pretty seriously. Anyway, it might help you relax, loosen you up a little. No offense, but you look tense as a brick wall.” He lifts a hand as he starts to drift toward the door. “I’m off. I’ll see you on the flip side of the weekend.”
“You bet.”
I think about it for a while. I had just told Bryson to relax. Of course, he has a perfectly good wife to relax with. I’m down a spouse at the moment. My fingers twitch over the table, beating against the wood as if it were a jungle drum. I could use a little relaxation myself. Maybe I will head down to Jepson Friday night. Right after I check out that trailer plant. Something tells me once I’m through snooping around that seedy part of town I’ll be in need of a good stiff drink, and maybe something a little softer, warmer, to fill the rest of the night.
Sounds like a hell of a plan. Let’s hope it doesn’t land anyone in the morgue this time.
After yet anothercaustic fallout at the Black Bear with Serena—my God, that girl knows how to crawl all the way under my skin and stay there—I head down to Jepson, down to the plant where they manufacture trailers and stare up at the open mouth of the warehouse. It’s a behemoth building, well lit, sparsely populated, but then, it is Friday, well after four o’clock. The truth is, I don’t really want to speak with anyone, let alone a manager. Had I wanted to, I would have understood that most of them have started their weekend by now. Not that I blame them. But the real story, the real meat of the Barry Larson mystery will most likely unfold between the layers of his coworkers. In other words, the people who actually knew him.
A shorter gal, about half my height, comes stalking out. Her dark hair looks freshly dyed a garish hue of magenta. Her pale face sours at the sight of me.
“If you’re looking to make a purchase, you just came upon the working end of the plant. Sales is down the street. Make a left on Willow.”
“No, actually, I’m looking to speak with a manager. I’m a professor from Whitney Briggs University.”
She jumps back and clamps a hand over her mouth. “Wh-Whitney B-Briggs?” she stutters the words out as if I had just cast a hex on the place.
“I apologize.” It’s obvious she’s putting together the proximity of the school to the murder. “I’m looking to see if you have any internships available for my students. Something simple. It could be clerical. Just anything really.”
“No.” The worry lines on her forehead smooth out. “For a second, I thought you were another reporter snooping around, wanting to get me to talk about my brother’s murder.”
“Yourbrother?” I lean in, suddenly very interested.
She winces. “Unless you’re living under a rock, I’m sure you heard about it. Handsome fellow with a foul mouth turns up dead in an alley?” She snarls as if the thought offended her, and it should. “Look, I don’t want to talk about it with reporters, and I sure as heck don’t want to talk about it with you.”
“Not a problem. I just thought maybe—”
