Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
The Pub on Main’s interior reflected the mid-eighteenth century atmosphere so much of downtown Washington, Pennsylvania, celebrated. The atrium’s walls boasted rich wood wainscoting that appeared to be original to the historic building. Reproduction wallpaper completed the look.
The restaurant was busy, despite it being too early for lunch and too late for breakfast. Matthias followed Fergusson and Lukan to a podium where a young brunette in a crisp white shirt and black trousers waited.
She greeted them with a smile. “Welcome to the Pub on Main.” She reached for a bin holding menus. “Are you here for breakfast or lunch?”
“Neither, I’m afraid.” Fergusson showed his badge and introduced his partner and Matthias. “We’re looking into the death of Greyson Jones.”
Her smile faded, her face growing somber. “I heard about that. How tragic.”
“Were you aware of a confrontation Jones had here with another customer, one Eric Baker?”
The somber expression further faded to one bordering on disgust. “I was here that afternoon. I felt so bad for Mr. Baker. He didn’t deserve to be treated that way.”
“What way was that?”
“Disrespected.” She glanced around before circling from behind the podium and lowering her voice.
“Mr. Jones was a regular here, but we all dreaded seeing him come in. He drank too much and raised holy he—” She caught herself, blushed, and tried again.
“He raised a fuss when we tried to cut his tap. The more he drank, the louder and more obnoxious he got. We had a server quit after being stuck with him. Newer hire, mind you, but still. Most of us have dealt with as bad or worse, but he definitely wasn’t a customer for the faint of heart.
” She flushed and looked around again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said so much.”
“Don’t apologize,” Fergusson told her. “This is helpful. Can you tell us specifically about the incident between Jones and Baker?”
Her gaze snapped toward the door, and she raised a finger. “Give me a minute.” She grabbed a couple of menus and greeted a well-dressed elderly couple by name.
A few minutes later, she returned with another employee in tow. “Tammy will man the hostess station while I take my break,” she said to Fergusson before directing the three of them to a private meeting room at the rear of the restaurant. She closed the door. “Now I can speak more freely.”
Matthias lowered into a chair next to Fergusson with Lukan on the other side. The young brunette, who identified herself as Sheila, sat across from them.
“To answer your question,” she began, “the ‘incident,’ as you call it, was entirely Mr. Jones’s fault. He was being belligerent even to the members of his own party.”
“Who all was in his party?”
Her brow furrowed momentarily before replying. “Patrick Winslow…”
“His foreman.”
“I believe so, yes. Ms. Neidermeyer.”
“His assistant.”
“And three other gentlemen, not regulars here. Ms. Neidermeyer picked up the check for all of them, so I didn’t get their names.”
“Ms. Neidermeyer paid the check?”
“She always does. With the company’s card.” Sheila gave a shy grin. “I’ve often wondered if she handled the business dinners to keep Mr. Jones from running up an even bigger bar tab.”
Matthias made a note to speak with Tina Neidermeyer again when she wasn’t trying to run Emma and him out of the office.
“Tell us exactly what happened between Jones and Baker.”
“Mr. Baker, who is perfectly lovely, by the way, was having a business dinner with a couple of other men. I know it was a business meeting, because Mr. Baker had a folder of pamphlets and brochures and spreadsheets. Mr. Jones got up, went to their table, and started asking Mr. Baker about his dates.” She made air quotes around the last word.
“Poor Mr. Baker was mortified at first.”
“What did he do?”
“He tried to make excuses to his clients. You know, saying Jones was always cracking jokes, but Mr. Jones wouldn’t take the hint.
He kept getting louder and pushier. A couple of our waiters tried to intervene and convince him to go back to his table.
” She shook her head. “It only made him worse. He started calling Mr. Baker all kinds of horrible names. By then, he wasn’t so much mortified as livid. Bottled up, but livid.”
“What kind of names?”
“I can’t repeat them.” She lowered her voice. “He’s gay, you know.”
“Did you know?”
“Oh, yes. We all know. But it’s none of our business. He’s always so sweet and generous. Nothing else matters.”
“What happened next?”
Sheila shifted nervously in her chair. “Mr. Baker’s clients both got up and left. I felt awful for him. Mr. Jones kept pushing at him until… well… Mr. Baker kinda snapped.”
“Snapped how?”
“He stood up and got in Mr. Jones’s face and told him to shut up and leave him alone or else.”
“Or else what?”
She squirmed and, in a whisper, said, “Or else he’d kill him.”
Fergusson shot a look at his partner but avoided meeting Matthias’s eyes.
“He wouldn’t, though,” Sheila said quickly. “He felt so bad about the whole thing, he came around and apologized personally to all of us who were working that night. And he left a huge tip.”
“How huge?”
“Two hundred dollars.”
Matthias felt his phone vibrate as Lukan let out a whistle. The text message was from Emma.
Call me. Urgent.
Matthias excused himself and stepped out of the room to place the call. “What’s wrong?” he asked when it connected.
“Nell’s gone,” Emma sobbed. “Again.”
* * *
Matthias slammed through the front door at Eric’s house and was met with raised voices. He followed the shouting to the bookshelf-lined living room where Emma sat on the sectional, hanging her head, while Eric paced the floor.
“I can’t believe you let her out of your sight,” he said sharply.
“I was taking a shower,” Emma replied, her voice on the verge of a whimper. “What was I supposed to do? Lock her in the bathroom with me?”
“Maybe. At the very least, you should’ve waited until I got home to watch her.”
Matthias stepped between them and faced Eric. “That’s enough.” He turned to Emma and softened his tone. “What happened?”
She wrapped her arms around herself and told him about Nell slipping out. How Emma managed to track her as far as the main road, where a trucker picked her up. “Before you ask, no, I wasn’t close enough to get a plate number. All I know is it was one of those big boxy trailers.”
“What did you notice about the cab?”
“It was older, faded red with a company logo on the side, but I couldn’t make it out.”
Matthias gave her a look that he hoped offered more encouragement than he felt. “I’ll make some calls.” He turned back to Eric, the encouraging look gone. “And you. Back off.”
To Matthias’s surprise, he did not. “I’ve spent the last few weeks taking care of Nell, protecting her, making her feel safe,” Eric said, his hands balled into fists.
He sidestepped to glare past Matthias at Emma.
“I told you how fragile she was. I pleaded with you not to come here. But you always think you know best. Well, you don’t.
Nell trusts me. Or at least she did before you came crashing back into her life. The person she doesn’t trust is you.”
Matthias wanted to grab Emma and hustle her out of there, but Nell was her sister, and if he was going to find her, he needed Eric’s help.
After all, as Eric said, he’d been with her for the last couple of weeks.
Keeping his voice in the low, gravelly tone he used to intimidate criminals, he asked, “Where would she go?”
“I don’t know.” Eric crossed his arms, impervious to Matthias’s intimidation efforts.
“Yes, you do. Think.”
Eric held his gaze, unflinching, but his ferocity gradually abated as he considered Matthias’s words. “Ordinarily, I’d suggest the farm, but I don’t think she feels drawn there anymore.”
“Then where?” When no immediate answer came, Matthias quietly asked the question he’d hoped to avoid. “Where would she go to score more pills? Someone in the area was supplying her.”
Behind him, Emma climbed out of the sectional and disappeared from the room, but Matthias kept his focus on Eric.
“For alcohol, any liquor store would do. As for prescription opioids?” Eric shook his head, his brow still creased. Then his eyes widened. “Wait. I remember overhearing her and Zeke talking about meeting a guy at the Highlander Club.”
“Where’s that?”
“In Washington. From the name, you’d think it was upscale. In truth, it’s anything but.” Eric slumped into the recliner. “The problem is, she has no money.”
Matthias knew of a way a young woman might barter to get her hands on drugs but wasn’t going to say out loud.
Emma stormed back into the living room clutching her handbag. “Yes, she does.” She removed her wallet and held it up. “All the cash I had with me is gone. So is my credit card.”
Eric opened his mouth, apparently to launch into another round of blame, but Matthias silenced him with a look.
“How much cash?” Matthias asked Emma.
“Almost two hundred dollars.”
He touched her arm. “Let’s go. I’ll call in some favors.” Pointing a finger at Eric, he said, “Call anyone Nell might contact. Let me know if you learn anything.” He waited for a sign of belligerence. There was none.
“You do the same.”
“I will.” Matthias glanced behind him to make sure Emma was out of earshot. “And you’ll want to line up a criminal defense attorney.”
“For Nell?” Eric sounded stunned.
“For yourself. You failed to mention you threatened to kill Sonny Jones.”