What I've Done (Morgan Dane #4)(40)

Morgan led the way toward the bar. She flashed a smile at the blond bartender. He wore jeans and a T-shirt bearing the club’s logo, a red EKG line of heartbeats with Beats scripted into the spiky lines. Usually, men of all ages straightened up and paid attention when she approached. But tonight, the baby-faced bartender actually winced as he looked at her eye.

“Man, that looks like it hurts.” He tilted a tall glass under the tap of a craft beer.

“It does.” Morgan sighed. Her fingertips went automatically to the bruise on her temple.

Lance read the bartender’s name tag. Bingo. Todd was the bartender they were looking for.

“Do you have a few minutes to answer a couple of questions about last Friday night?” Morgan asked.

“The night of the murder?” Todd frowned at her, then at Lance. “I already gave the police a statement.”

“We’re not cops. I’m a PI. I’m investigating the murder.” Lance slid his business card across the bar, along with a folded twenty-dollar bill. He left out the defense attorney part. Without knowing how a witness stood on the murder, it was best to avoid giving away which side they were on.

“Seriously? Cool. I never met a PI before.” The bartender pocketed the cash. “I guess I can talk as long as I can keep filling orders. Weeknights are usually slow.”

Morgan took a stack of photos from her tote and lined them up on the bar as if she were dealing cards. Noah. Haley. Piper. Noah’s three friends. “Do you recognize any of these people?”

The bartender glanced over, then pointed at Haley’s photo. “This is the crazy chick who killed this dude last Friday night.” He shifted his finger to Noah’s picture.

Not the answer they were hoping for.

Then he pointed at Piper. “She came in with the crazy chick.” He waved a hand over Noah’s three friends’ faces. “They look familiar, but I don’t remember them specifically.”

Lance tapped on Haley’s photo. “Have you seen her in here before Friday night?”

Todd shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’ve only been working here a few weeks.”

“Did you serve her Friday night?” Morgan asked.

“I made her a drink when she first came in.” Todd set the full beer on the bar and picked up another glass. “I remember because she asked for a virgin cosmo, which is basically cranberry juice. Anyway, I thought it was cute. She was buying for her girlfriend too.”

“What did the girlfriend order?” Lance leaned both forearms on the bar. Next to him, Morgan perched a hip on a stool.

“A shot of tequila and a margarita on the rocks.” Todd filled the second glass.

“You have a good memory for drinks,” Lance noted.

Todd grinned. “I have a better memory for hot girls.”

“I hear ya.” Lance faked a male-bonding tone. “You only made her one drink?”

“She only paid for one drink,” Todd clarified. “Hot girls don’t have to buy their own alcohol. Dudes could have been buying her drinks later.”

“Did you see this man?” Morgan showed the bartender the photo of Kieran on her cell phone.

The bartender shook his head. “He doesn’t look familiar. Sorry.”

Morgan collected the stack of pictures, and Lance led the way toward the exit. Since they’d arrived, a bouncer had taken up a position by the door. Short and stocky, with black hair and eyes, he wore a black polo shirt with a smaller version of the club’s logo on the chest. His nose looked as if it had been shaped with a hammer.

He glared at them. “I already talked to the cops.”

“We’re not cops.” Lance offered him a business card.

The bouncer ignored it.

Morgan stepped forward and fanned the pictures in front of him. “Do you remember seeing these people last Friday night?”

The bouncer’s nod was tight. “I told the cops everything.”

“I’m sure you did,” she said. “We’re just verifying and making sure they didn’t miss anything.”

He tapped the photos of Haley and Noah. “These two left together, but I couldn’t swear on a Bible what time that was. I only noticed the girl because she tripped.”

Morgan separated Haley’s and Noah’s pictures and returned the other photos to her bag. “Did she trip because she was drunk?”

“I don’t think so. It looked like her heel got caught in the sidewalk. The guy looked OK. He helped her up, and they kept walking.” The bouncer leaned back. “That’s all I can tell you.”

“Thank you for your time,” Morgan said.

Lance followed Morgan out the door. Outside, the cool night air felt damp on his face. “Everything the bartender and bouncer said agreed with Haley’s statements.”

“Yes, but no one has given us a single lead. Basically, we’ve verified information that either means nothing or supports the prosecutor’s case.” Morgan buttoned her coat, her movements jerky and frustrated. “What if we never find anything? Haley is too fragile to survive prison.”

“It’s early in the investigation yet.” Lance took her elbow in a firm grip. “We’ll keep digging.” He turned toward the spot at the curb where they’d parked.