Raspberry Danish Murder (Hannah Swensen #22)(62)

Chapter Nineteen


They had almost finished their drinks by the time Dick was through refilling glasses and delivering his dip. Hannah, who had been keeping an eye on the time, gave a relieved sigh. She wanted to interview Dick tonight and she really hadn’t wanted to come back to the bar with karaoke going full swing.

“Okay, Hannah,” he said leaning over the bar toward the three of them. “I’ve got at least five minutes before anyone’s going to want a refill.”

“Thanks, Dick. And before I forget to tell you, your pizza dip was wonderful.”

As Norman and Michelle took turns complimenting Dick on his college friend’s creation, Hannah drew her murder book out of her purse and grabbed one of the numerous pens that had dropped down to the bottom. Then, when there was a lull in the conversation, she began to ask the questions she’d thought of on the drive out to the Inn. “Please tell me about the last time you saw P.K.”

“Of course. P.K. came in after work with Scotty. I’d never seen them together before, so I was a little curious. They ordered drinks, beer for Scotty and a Virgin Cuba Libre for P.K.”

“Did they seem to be friendly?” Hannah asked.

“Not exactly. Polite, yes. Friendly, not when they first came in the bar.”

“But they were friendly later?” Michelle asked the obvious question.

“Yes. P.K. was okay from the beginning, but Scotty was a little reserved. It’s hard to tell with him, but I’ve known him long enough to read his body language.”

“Was it different than it usually is when he comes in here?” Norman asked.

Dick nodded. “They sat down at a table and Scotty sat up straight, not relaxed at all, and he didn’t prop his elbows on the table the way he usually does.”

“Anything else?” Hannah asked him.

“Yes. Scotty didn’t touch his beer right away, and he likes to drink off the layer of foam on top.” Dick stopped and gave a little shrug. “I know these things are little things, but they tell me what kind of mood my regulars are in.”

“And Scotty didn’t behave the way he usually did?” Hannah asked.

“No. Something was different with him. He looked at his beer, but he didn’t pick up the glass to drink it. And he didn’t dig into the pizza dip until after he’d talked to P.K. for a couple of minutes.”

“Did you overhear anything they said?” Michelle asked.

“No. I wasn’t that close. I was curious because Scotty wasn’t his usual self, but I didn’t want to be obvious. I just watched to see what was going to happen because I could tell they were talking about something serious.”

“How could you tell?” Hannah followed up.

“Because Scotty locked eyes with P.K. and he didn’t look away for a couple of minutes. And then both of them took a sip of their drinks and dug into my pizza dip. There were other things too, things that told me everything was okay between them.”

Hannah didn’t say anything. She just raised her eyebrows in an unspoken question, and Dick went on.

“Scotty came out here almost every week with five or six friends, and he was buddy-buddy with them. They laughed a lot and kidded each other the way good friends do.”

Norman looked curious. “And Scotty acted like that after he had the conversation with P.K.?”

“Not exactly. They still weren’t buddy-buddy, but I could tell that they were getting along. Scotty’s elbows went up on the table and he took a big swallow of his beer. And he smiled at P.K. for the first time since they sat down. There was another thing, too. They were passing the basket of chips back and forth. That’s when I figured out that whatever had been bothering Scotty had been resolved.”

“You notice a lot about people, Dick,” Michelle told him. “Did you take psychology courses in college?”

Dick shook his head. “Never. But I’ve been a bartender for a long time. That’s how I paid for college. It’s a skill a good bartender picks up because it’s needed.”

“Needed?” Michelle looked confused. “I know you have to pay attention to people so you notice when they need something, but it sounds as if you notice a lot more than that.”

“That’s true. Bartenders need to become familiar with the people they serve. It’s a matter of self-preservation.”

“How so?” Norman asked.

“As a bartender, you don’t want to serve another drink to someone who’s about to cross the line between having a good time and becoming too drunk to drive. If you do that, it’s actionable. A good bartender knows when to cut someone off, and that means you have to watch for all sorts of little signs that will tip you off.”

“Did Scotty ever get . . .” Hannah paused. She’d been about to ask if Scotty had ever gotten drunk, but Dick probably wouldn’t tell her.

“Did he get a little tipsy?” Dick supplied the rest of her question.

“Yes.”

“Only once that I can remember. He usually had no more than three glasses of beer. The only time I saw him drink more was when he was in here with his wife. It was his birthday and they were celebrating with a bunch of their friends. I was wondering if I should stop serving him, but his wife came up to the bar and assured me that she was driving home. She even showed me the car keys.”