Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
Officer Moore walked into the Bottoms Up Pub. For mid-afternoon, most tables and stools were vacant. The exceptions were filled with solo drinkers and a few couples. Like most pubs, its fare was comfort food, and it offered several beers on tap.
Moore walked to the counter, garnering the attention of a barfly. He was in his fifties, scruffy with bloodshot eyes. The whiskey in his hands wasn’t his first of the day. Probably not even his second.
Another man in his fifties was behind the bar, but he was clear-eyed, clean-shaven, and nicely dressed. His eyes were a piercing silver when they assessed her and the uniform.
“Officer Moore,” he said, reading her name off her tag. “What’s your poison today?” The hint of a smile teased the corners of his mouth.
“Nothing. I’m on the job. I’m looking to speak with the manager.” It was always best to focus on the job, get right to the point, minimize distractions. She didn’t drink much anyhow. Maybe that was due to her uncle’s tragic story.
“You’ve got him. Name’s Curtis.”
“Could we talk somewhere private?”
“Oooh, the pretty young copper wants you to take her someplace private, Curtis.” The man smirked and raised his glass.
Setting this man straight could cause more damage than it could accomplish. Curtis might ask her to leave. Count to three… One, two… There wasn’t time for that. “If I could have a few minutes of your time,” she said, deciding that ignoring the drinker’s inappropriate comment was the wise course.
“Sure. Just a few though. The place is hoppin’.” Another glimmer of a smile before Curtis turned, waving for her to follow him.
He took her to a booth in the corner, far enough away from straining ears. He gestured for her to take a seat before he dropped onto the bench. “So what is it, Officer?”
“I understand that Ryan Crawford works here.”
“He does.”
“What can you tell me about him?”
Curtis narrowed his eyes. “What do you want to know? He’s a reliable employee, shows up for work on time, the customers like him. Is he all right?”
That’s a loaded question… Cindy took out her notepad and pen and put to paper what Curtis had told her. “I’ll get to that. He suffered a personal loss recently, the aunt who raised him. Sometimes that changes people. Was Ryan any different in the last few weeks?”
Curtis took a few seconds to reply. “A bit, yeah. Still a good employee, mind you. But his heart didn’t seem into his work as much. Though I probably shouldn’t say anything.”
“Whatever you have to say might help things.”
“What things?”
She cursed herself for the slip. Her vagueness had roused his curiosity. Though it seemed unavoidable that she’d need to explain the reason for her interest in Ryan at some point. “All I’m at liberty to say is that Ryan has gotten himself into a situation, and we’re trying to get him out of it.”
“Huh. Can you offer a touch more specifics?”
“Losing his aunt is causing him to face a bit of an existential crisis, but unfortunately, he’s dragged other people into the mix.” Cindy talked slowly, carefully measuring her words. She wasn’t about to go around talking freely about the situation at the Hanson estate.
“He’s threatening harm to others?”
“Yes, but really that’s all I dare say.” Or Coleman will have my badge before I make detective…
“If you can tell me anything that might provide more insight into his state of mind recently, that could go a long way. A moment ago you started to share something with me about him. What was that going to be?” She hadn’t forgotten that he’d shied away, hiding behind I probably shouldn’t say…
Curtis leaned back in the booth and rubbed his jaw. “I already told you he’s been different, but honestly, I think he’s been drinking.”
“And that’s a problem for him?” Curtis’s stiffened body language suggested it was a big one.
“He’s an alcoholic, like me. We’ve both worked the program.”
“You’re certainly both testing your resolve with you running a pub and him working in one.” That seemed like insane temptation.
“Sounds strange, I’m sure. But somehow it works. You have a front-row seat every shift of how crazy and irrational booze makes people act.”
Or obnoxious like the man on the barstool… “I can see that. Were you and Ryan close then, having that in common?”
“We talked a lot.” He paused a few beats. “I’m starting to feel like I’m betraying his confidence here.”
“As I said, we’re trying to help him. And that’s all you’re trying to do.” She hoped that it would encourage Curtis to keep talking.
“I just wish he would have reached out to me if he was having a tough time with his aunt’s death. He mentioned it but didn’t really put any emotion into it. If he’d opened up to me, I could have helped him through.”
“A person needs to want help first and believe they’re worth it.
” She’d seen it in domestic calls too many times to count.
A woman beaten by her husband or boyfriend to within an inch of her life, but she’d refuse to press charges or leave him.
While Cindy appreciated there were psychological things at play and often valid fears, it boiled down to what she’d just said.
“True enough. He came in with whiskey on his breath one night, and I called him out on it. He tried to convince me he ate sourdough bread. Yeah. That face you’re making right now.
I didn’t buy it then, but somehow he convinced me some whiskeys are made with a similar yeast. It’s on me for letting it slide and not calling him out on it.
But you should know something else about Ryan.
It might help, given the situation, with others in danger.
Ryan is prone to having auditory hallucinations.
He has meds to counteract them, but if he goes off…
Well, let’s just say who knows what could happen. ”
Cindy rapidly scribbled that down. The negotiation team needed to know this immediately. “You said he’s been different in the last few weeks in other ways. How, aside from not being into his work as much and drinking?”
“He rambled on about the truth and how it was time the world knew what that was. When I asked him what he meant by that, he’d make an excuse to leave or avoid responding.
But now I’m wondering… He went on about how he was prepared to do whatever was necessary for the truth to come out.
And honestly, he got this unsettling glint in his eye when he’d talk about it.
He added all liars should pay for their crimes. ”
“Did he ever say who these liars were?”
Curtis shook his head. “I suspect it’s probably who he has with him right now.”
Cindy tucked her pen and notepad away and stood. “Thank you for your time, Curtis. I might return with more questions.”
“Ah, sure.”
“And here’s my card.” She took one from her pocket and handed it over to him before leaving the pub. “If you think of another conversation you had with Ryan that might help, call me.”
“You bet. I hope he and everyone else gets out of this all right.”
“Me too.” She turned and left then. Stepping out into the fresh air, she hustled to her cruiser.