Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
A sharp wolf whistle rang out from where Gracie was still perched by the bar, “Nice tackle!”
The rest of the bar followed her lead and soon enough I was facing down an entire round of applause.
I hid my face behind my hair, pretending to focus on adjusting my grip to keep the guy in place.
I felt heat rising to my cheeks as a mixture of pride and embarrassment hit me.
And beneath it all, a worry deep in my gut.
I had only just convinced Kenna there was nothing suspicious about me and finally settled into my new life.
But this was the opposite of keeping my head down.
“Detective, would you mind?” I asked, raising my voice above the noise.
The applause died down as Detective Shepherd approached and by the time I looked around the room again the bar had mostly gone back to minding their own business.
I allowed Detective Shepherd to take over the arrest, starting the Miranda rights over again and cuffing the guy before pulling him to his feet.
“All good out here?” Trick’s voice echoed through the bar, and I looked towards the office to find that he had stepped out, drawn by the applause. He glanced from Detective Shepherd, to Kenna, to me with a frown.
“Don’t worry,” Kenna said. “I have it handled.”
“You’re sure?” he asked, and she rolled her eyes, but he wasn’t looking at her for confirmation. Instead, he was looking at me. I gave him a nod, and he narrowed his eyes at the scenario again before ducking back into the office to complete whatever important business was not to be disturbed.
I returned behind the bar only to find that in my rush to tackle the guy I’d knocked over Kenna’s half-full Algonquin. Sighing, I grabbed a rag and went to work cleaning up the mess.
“That was really impressive,” Gracie said, and I winced. I should have known I couldn’t just go back to the way things were without addressing this somehow.
“I’ve just watched too many cop dramas,” I told her, glancing up long enough to make eye contact before returning to the task at hand.
I couldn’t tell if she believed me or not, but I was more concerned about what Kenna thought.
I’d done irreparable damage to my cover story with her, but the leap from bartender to ex-FBI agent and murder suspect on the lam was large enough that I was able to keep my hands steady as I mixed up another drink for her.
Silence fell and I looked up again only to find Gracie staring down at her lemon drop with a pensive expression.
“Well, that was quite the show,” Kenna said as she sat down beside Gracie.
I passed her newly made drink over to her and she gave me an assessing look, not bothering to pick it up as she turned to address Gracie instead.
“I am so sorry. I promise, as soon as they clear out, we’ll get the celebration going. ”
“That’s okay,” Gracie said, a tight smile gracing her lips before she took another small sip of her drink. “I think I’m just going to turn in.”
“No! You can’t go,” Kenna wailed, throwing herself towards the other woman.
Gracie barely had time to set her drink down before catching an armful of Kenna and patting her on the back.
She caught my eye long enough to roll hers, but there was a hint of genuine humor in her smile that hadn’t been there before.
Movement in the corner of my vision caught my attention and I turned to find Melody approaching with a reserved expression.
She cleared her throat and Kenna released her friend and turned towards the young woman.
Melody opened her mouth, and then closed it again, and in a heartbeat her face crumpled as if everything that could have happened to her that night was hitting her all at once.
“Mel?” Kenna said, all traces of drama gone as she pushed off her stool and closed the distance between them, hands out to offer comfort or perhaps to catch the young woman as she took an unsteady step forward.
Melody folded herself into Kenna’s arms, babbling a series of ‘thank yous’ into Kenna’s shoulder as the older woman ran a hand up and down her back and offered noises of comfort until the other woman managed to find a shaky sense of calm once more.
I poured a glass of cold water and slid it across the bar along with a stack of napkins and Melody gave me a watery smile.
“Thank you,” she said, sounding a little stronger despite the stuffed nose, her red-rimmed eyes meeting mine. I got the sense she was thanking me for more than the water and I nodded, a firm smile in place as I held myself back from trying to give excuses that nobody was asking for.
“My pleasure,” I told her, and I meant it. There probably wouldn’t be many chances in my life to perform takedowns like that again. My list of federal offenses was only growing longer by the day.
Melody wiped at her rosy cheeks with the napkin and took a sip of her water before setting it down again.
She glanced around the bar, her eyes landing on the young man who was standing with his arms cuffed behind his back and his shoulders slumped as Detective Shepherd gathered what evidence he could.
The man he had come in with was standing nearby as well and seemed to be keeping a close eye on the young man.
Too little, too late, if you asked me.
“Ezra drove me,” Melody said, her voice faint. “He seemed so nice, I thought—well it doesn’t matter what I thought.”
“I’ll take you home,” Kenna said, shifting so that she had one arm around Melody as she turned to face Gracie. “I really am sorry about tonight. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Gracie told her, though there was a trace of melancholy in her voice.
“I am going to worry about it,” Kenna said, pointing a finger at her friend. “And I mean it, don’t go anywhere. Have my drink. Hale, make her another lemon drop. We’re not going to let this spoil your big night, okay?”
“Okay,” Gracie said, putting her hands up in surrender and smiling a little.
Satisfied she had gotten her point across, Kenna guided Melody out of the bar.
No sooner was she gone than Detective Shepherd was stepping up to the bar beside Gracie once more, holding on to Ezra by the wrists and leaning in as he looked directly at me.
“That was an impressive takedown,” he said as he waved his free hand in front of me. I looked down to find a business card tucked between his pointer and middle fingers as he held it out. “You’ve got good instincts. If you’re ever interested in a career in law enforcement, give me a call.”
“Oh, no,” I shook my head and took a step back at the shock of being offered a law enforcement job. “That wouldn’t go well. I just watch too many cop dramas, really.”
“Sometimes that’s how you get your start,” he said, waving the business card again. “Here, take it. Just in case you change your mind.”
“Thank you,” I said stiffly, stepping forward and plucking the card from his fingers carefully, like it was a weapon rather than an innocuous piece of cardstock.
I didn’t plan to call him anytime soon, for a job or for help in the bar, but I could also see that he wasn’t planning to leave until I took the card, and from the tight hunch in Gracie’s shoulders I wasn’t the only one who wanted him gone.
Thankfully, he turned away after that, leading the attempted runaway out through the front door, his buddy quickly following behind him.
The trio of pool bros had returned to their game, and I wasn’t entirely sure the woman with the book had even looked up once during the arrest, but I could see she was getting low on her glass of wine, so I grabbed the bottle and approached to offer her another.
She looked up as I approached and her smile was grateful, but she didn’t say a word.
Only nodded and returned to her book. The way she was engrossed in the book had me convinced it must be good, but I couldn’t quite make out the author where her hand was gripping it.
I returned to the bar and put the wine bottle away, turning to check on my only other customer.
Gracie had finished her lemon drop and moved on to the Algonquin, but she was only holding it in her hands and staring down at it, deep in thought.
I couldn’t even begin to imagine what might have caused them to split up, but it must have been very difficult to face down her ex-husband on the same night she was planning to celebrate her newfound freedom.
I felt for her, and as I took the empty martini glass and started to rinse off the remainder of the sugar rim, I felt myself struggling to find something comforting to say.
“What do the families of victims do when the case is marked cold?” Gracie asked out of the blue, looking up at me like I was the kind of person who ought to know the answer.
“Uh,” I said, standing frozen over the dishwasher as I stared back at her, my heart racing a little despite knowing that there was no way she could know that cold cases had been my specialization before joining the FBI. “What?”
“Sorry,” Gracie said with a grimace, setting the untouched Algonquin down in front of her without taking a sip. “Could I get another lemon drop instead?
“Of course,” I replied as I took the Algonquin off the counter and slipped it into the lowboy fridge between the limes and cherries.
No doubt Kenna would want another once she returned.
Then I got to work making Gracie another lemon drop.
Silence fell between us for a moment and Gracie’s eyes were distant until I set the drink down in front of her and her focus snapped to the present once more.