Between Black and White (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #2)(35)

22


Kathy’s Tavern was beginning to fill up when Tom walked in the door ten minutes after leaving Legends. As he made his way to the bar, he noticed that most of the patrons were starting to filter to the back room, where a band appeared to be tuning instruments. According to the flyer in the window, the music would start at nine.

Tom took a seat at the bar and ordered a beer, taking in the place. It was 8:45 p.m. He had forty-five minutes to hopefully find and interview Cassie Dugan before his meeting with Ray Ray.

Kathy’s was a block north of the courthouse on First Street. According to Bo, Kathy’s had the best cheeseburger in town and usually attracted an up-and-coming country singer or band on the weekend. The layout was basically two areas—a front room with four tall tables to the right and a long bar to the left, and a back room with a stage in front of several tables. As he looked around, Tom was struck by the diversity of the crowd. To his left at the bar were two college boys who had probably both just turned twenty-one. They wore jeans and collar shirts with the shirttail out, and they were splitting a pitcher of beer. Martin Methodist College was just a stone’s throw away, and Tom figured these boys were aiming to catch a buzz before the party on campus. To his right was a bearded man who appeared to be middle-aged wearing a gray T-shirt, a dusty camouflage cap, and khaki work pants and boots. He was drinking Natural Light from a can and staring straight ahead, lost in thought or something else. Across at one of the tables was a fiftysomething couple, the man’s face covered with a white Kenny Rogers–style beard and both wearing cowboy hats. Next to them was a much younger couple, probably in their thirties.

As a steel guitar cranked up in the back, the waitress brought Tom his beer. She wore a white Kathy’s T-shirt with blue jean cutoffs, an outfit which showed off her large breasts and long, tan legs, and Tom could almost feel the eyes of the two college boys on her.

Brushing her brown hair out of her eyes, she smiled. “Just drinking, or would you like to order some food?”

“Just drinking,” Tom said, returning the smile. As she started to go, Tom held up his hand and leaned across the bar. “Can I ask you a question?”

She nodded, her eyes curious.

“Do you know Bocephus Haynes?”

The smile disappeared. “Who wants to know?”

“Tom McMurtrie,” Tom said, extending his hand across the bar. “I’m Bo’s attorney.”

“Cassie Dugan.” She shook his hand, eyeing him like he might be a dangerous animal. Bingo, Tom thought, cautioning himself to ease into the questioning. Don’t scare her off.

“I’m told he was in here last Thursday night. Is that true?” Tom asked.

“He was here a lot of nights,” she said, leaning in close so that only Tom could hear.

“But Thursday?” Tom pressed.

She nodded. “Look, mister, we’re starting to get crowded—”

“Did you wait on him?”

Another nod. “Bo always sat at the bar when he came in, and that’s normally my station.”

The familiar “Bo” as opposed to “Mr. Haynes,” Tom thought. Interesting . . .

“Cassie, do you know Bo pretty well?”

She blinked, hesitating only slightly. “Just from his time in here. Like I said, he came a lot the last couple of months.”

Right after the separation, Tom thought, feeling a twinge of anxiety. “Was he with anyone on Thursday night?”

She shook her head. “No. He was alone.” She paused. “He was usually alone.”

“Did he speak to anyone?”

“Look, mister, I gave the police a statement with everything I saw and heard. I don’t have time—”

“One last question,” Tom said. “Did he say anything to you while you waited on him? Anything at all that you thought was strange or unusual?”

She shrugged. “Bo liked to talk to me, OK? I think he was lonely. He and his wife were separated and”—she paused—“I don’t think he had anyone else to talk to.”

Another twinge of anxiety. “Did he say anything that—?”

“All I remember about last Thursday night was that Bo seemed very tense and angry. He normally flirted with me and asked me questions about my day. Small talk mainly, but he barely said a word last Thursday. Just smoked a couple of cigars and had several bourbon and waters. Then he scared Clete to death, and that’s when Mr. and Mrs. Walton and Dr. Curtis came up.” She shuddered. “I thought I was going to have to call the police.”

“Why didn’t you?” Tom asked.

“Because it was just talk. Nobody hit anyone. Just talk.” She glared at Tom. “In hindsight I guess I should’ve called the police.”

Tom asked her about the confrontation, and Cassie reiterated what everyone else had said. Bo had threatened to make Andy “bleed” and quoted the “eye for an eye” verse from the Bible.

“Is there anything else you can tell me?” Tom asked.

“Not really,” Cassie said, pouring a pitcher full of beer. “Clete Sartain hasn’t been back since last Thursday. I’m sure he’s staying away so he doesn’t get pestered with questions from people like you.”

She turned to walk away, and Tom couldn’t think of anything else to ask her. The day wasn’t getting any better.