Millie stepped back, and Scott instantly shifted her to the side, positioning his body in front of her.
“It’s okay, Scott,” she said. “This is Buck.” She waited until Buck emerged into the cloudy day. “Buck, this is Scott. Scott, Buck.”
Buck held out a hand to shake. “I’ve heard you were arrested,” Buck said as Scott shook his hand, still watching him carefully.
“Yes.” Millie looked up at the sixty-year-old bartender. She knew his exact age because the town had thrown a big bash for him last July. While he might be sixty, he looked about eighty, with his bald head, slightly stooped shoulders, and big belly. His kind eyes were a mixture of green and blue, and there were more liver spots on his hands than there had been the year before.
“I didn’t kill anybody, Buck,” she said.
“I figured.” He turned and stomped back into the darkened interior of the bar. Scott cut her a look but then gestured her ahead of him. She walked inside to see bottle caps still littering the floor and boxes of alcohol on the top of the bar. To the far left pool tables and dartboards took up opposite corners. The bar lacked the space for a dance floor, but nobody seemed to mind.
“Did you see Millie here last night?” Scott asked.
Buck strode around the bar to begin opening the boxes. “Of course I saw her here last night. You’re the lawyer, right?”
Scott lifted an eyebrow.
Millie whispered, “Small town.”
“Ah,” Scott murmured. “Yes, I’m the lawyer.”
Buck crossed his arms. “How did he pass JT’s tests?”
“There were no tests. I’m a grown woman and I can take care of myself, Buck,” Millie said, the words ringing hollow in her head considering she’d been arrested for murder.
“Humph.” Buck reached for a rag and wiped down the counter by the ice machine. “Even for a lawyer, you must be all right. No matter what Millie says, if JT had gotten a bad feeling from you, you’d be in the river right now.” His gaze lifted. “Not swimming.”
Oh, for goodness’ sake. JT did seem a little darker lately, but he’d be himself again soon. Millie moved toward the bar and hopped up on one of the many green stools. Her memory remained a dark hole, and nausea rolled up from her stomach. Why couldn’t she remember a darn thing? Scott felt like a solid wall of protection at her back, and she felt way too much pleasure in that fact. “I drank here last night. Did you see me interact with anybody?”
“Sure.” Buck pulled out several bottles of Jack Daniels. “You and Junie hung together for a while. She left. You spoke with the twins. Valerie drank vodka and Verna club soda, ’cause she’s pregnant again. Sure miss her working here.” Then he pursed his lips. “That’s all I know.”
Millie picked at a scar on the wooden bar. “I’m sure Verna will return to work.”
“She left during the holidays, and I needed her,” Buck burst out. “We were slammed. She was always so cranky.”
Millie didn’t have time for this old argument but had to defend Verna. “She’s pregnant, Buck.”
Buck threw a hand carelessly in the air. “So? She’s an excellent waitress, and they need the money. She could at least have worked through the season.”
It was too bad that Buck couldn’t get knocked up. Millie fought the urge to box his ears, mostly because she needed information. “Last night, did you see me speaking with Clay?”
“Yeah. You two talked right here for a few minutes. I couldn’t hear what you were saying, but he looked earnest, which meant he was full of shit.”
She forced a laugh when she wanted to put her head down and cry. Having an entire night lost to her was terrifying. “Yeah, I know. What did I look like?”
Scott waited silently behind her, providing that comfort and protection again.
Buck tossed the empty box into the corner and reached for the next one. “You looked more irritated than anything. It was the same expression you always had when you two were together. There was a fight over by the pool tables and I went and broke it up.”
“Who was in the fight?” she asked.
“I don’t know, a couple of out-of-towners who’d arrived early for the Fishing Derby.” He opened the box. “They were arguing over some pool game. I tossed their asses out.”
That sounded like a normal night. “Considering it was St. Patrick’s Day, did I drink very much?” Millie asked.
“Not really. You had a beer with June and then you had a beer later on. You seemed fine to me, Millie. When I came back to the bar, you were gone.” He looked down, his face flushed. “I honestly didn’t think anything of it, but if that dimwit drugged you, I’d have killed him myself.”
She patted his gnarled hand, unsurprised that the rumor of her being drugged had already reached the townsfolk. “You’re not to blame.”
