“Hi, Parker, I’m Detective Easton. I’ve got some questions about April Peters.” She gestured to the chair. “Can we talk for a few?”
“I’m not in trouble or anything, am I?” Parked asked as everyone sat down.
“No trouble,” Emerson said. “I could use your help.”
Her voice had taken on a laid-back tone. The tightness around her eyes was gone, too. Easing back in Mavis’s padded desk chair, Stryker was more interested in watching Emerson than in staring at the computer screen.
“Were you and April friends?” Emerson asked.
Parker cleared his throat. “I guess. We’d started talking, you know.” He wiped his palm on his jeans. “I liked her. She was cool.”
“How long have you worked here?”
“A few months.” He glanced at Stryker.
“Things going well?” she asked.
“Sure, it’s steady work. Members are good tippers.”
“You called out Wednesday this week. Can you tell me about that?”
“Sure, yeah.” Again, he glanced at Stryker. “I’m not gonna get fired, am I?”
“It’s all good, Parker,” Stryker said.
“Wednesday?” Emerson pushed.
“Okay, right. I got a migraine. Took some meds and passed out. Best way to shake ‘em is to sleep it off.” Parker swallowed.
“Did anyone see you that evening?”
“Um…no. I live alone,” Parker replied. “I got a roommate, but he pretty much lives with his girlfriend.”
As Emerson continued questioning him, Stryker’s opinion of the hard-ass detective shifted…a little. Her approach had changed in the last year and a half. Now, as a rookie detective, she exhibited more control and her relaxed style of questioning seemed to be working on the anxious bartender.
“I was thinking about asking her out,” Parker confessed. “But I wasn’t sure how she felt about me.”
“Was she seeing anyone else?”
“I dunno.”
“So, you said your migraine went away and you came to work on Thursday. Everything go okay that evening?” she prodded.
“Um, yeah. I had something I—all good. Yup, all good.”
“You sure?”
Parker nodded.
Emerson scribbled something in her small notepad. “Were you and April friends on social media?”
“I don’t have any accounts.”
“Do you know if she did?”
“No idea.”
“Thanks for your help.” Emerson handed him a business card. “If you think of anything that might help, call or text me.”
