Read Online A Murder of Crows (A Darcy Sweet Cozy Mystery #7) by K.J. Emrick - Free Book Online
Authors: K.J. Emrick
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jurisdiction. If the Ryansburg Police are comfortable making an arrest on this guy then it’s not my place to say anything.”
“But you don’t think it’s the right guy.”
He looked directly at her then. “I know it’s not.”
“Then what would you do?” Darcy smiled at him. “Tell me what you would do to find the real killer.”
It was obvious that he’d already thought about it. “I think we need to go back to that bar. You said there was a second man, right? The one with the port wine birthmark on his face?”
Darcy nodded.
“Then let’s go find him.”
***
Darcy remembered the way back to the bar easily enough. This early in the afternoon the place was open, but hardly anyone was there. The music was turned off, the rotating lights were stopped still, and the bartender was wiping down the long black bar.
Jon and Darcy went up to the bar and sat down on stools. The bartender saw them and held up a meaty finger, asking them to wait. He was a heavily muscled man with a patchwork of tattoos down his bare right arm. His black sleeveless shirt matched the color of his pants and the chains around his neck made him look like something of a thug.
When he came over he tossed his cleaning rag over his shoulder and rubbed his hands together. “What can I get you two?”
“Information,” Jon said, displaying the badge in his wallet.
The bartender sighed in a long-suffering way. “You lot been round here all day. Don’t know anything more than what I told you already. Gave you the bloke’s name. What more you want?”
“That was another officer,” Jon pointed out. Darcy did her best to keep her face expressionless. Jon wasn’t exactly lying to this guy. He was a police officer. He was looking into the case of Marla’s death. He just wasn’t doing it in any kind of official capacity. If this man told them to leave, they’d have no choice but to go.
“Know it was another officer ,” the bartender said with a curt nod. “Don’t mean the answers to the questions will change just because you’re asking them again. I don’t know anything more.”
“What about the other man?” Darcy asked quickly. “The one with the port wine stain on his face?”
The bartender raised an eyebrow. “ You mean Finn?”
Darcy exchanged a look with Jon. Could it really be that easy?
“Who is Finn?” Jon asked.
The bartender nodded his head off toward the opposite corner of the room. Past the dancefloor there was a cluster of small round tables. At one of them, in the shadows, sat the dark haired man with the port wine stain that Darcy had seen the night Marla was killed.
Jon and Darcy went and sat down at the table with the man. He looked up, his eyebrows lowering, the birthmark on his left ch eek crinkling. He had been poring over some paperwork. Now he tossed his pen down and looked from one of them to the other. “Who are you?”
“Detective Tinker,” Jon said. “I understand you were here the night that Marla Benson was killed. ”
“Sure I was. I’m here every night. I own the place.”
Darcy blinked. “You’re the owner?”
“Yup. I bought out the previous owner seven years ago. Brad Finn.” He held out his hand to her, then to Jon. “Good to meet you. Detective I want to help in any way I can. What can I do for you?”
***
In a back room of the bar, Brad showed them the recording device with its attached monitor. “I know Riley. We’re friends, actually. There’s no way he hurt that woman. I told the last guy the same exact thing.”
“That’s not what the investigating officer thinks,” Jon told him.
Still rewinding the images on the screen Brad said, “I thought you were investigating this?”
“I am,” Jon said. “But someone else is the primary officer.”
Brad nodded. “I see. Well, whatever. I don’t care who sees this as long as someone does. The officer
“But you don’t think it’s the right guy.”
He looked directly at her then. “I know it’s not.”
“Then what would you do?” Darcy smiled at him. “Tell me what you would do to find the real killer.”
It was obvious that he’d already thought about it. “I think we need to go back to that bar. You said there was a second man, right? The one with the port wine birthmark on his face?”
Darcy nodded.
“Then let’s go find him.”
***
Darcy remembered the way back to the bar easily enough. This early in the afternoon the place was open, but hardly anyone was there. The music was turned off, the rotating lights were stopped still, and the bartender was wiping down the long black bar.
Jon and Darcy went up to the bar and sat down on stools. The bartender saw them and held up a meaty finger, asking them to wait. He was a heavily muscled man with a patchwork of tattoos down his bare right arm. His black sleeveless shirt matched the color of his pants and the chains around his neck made him look like something of a thug.
When he came over he tossed his cleaning rag over his shoulder and rubbed his hands together. “What can I get you two?”
“Information,” Jon said, displaying the badge in his wallet.
The bartender sighed in a long-suffering way. “You lot been round here all day. Don’t know anything more than what I told you already. Gave you the bloke’s name. What more you want?”
“That was another officer,” Jon pointed out. Darcy did her best to keep her face expressionless. Jon wasn’t exactly lying to this guy. He was a police officer. He was looking into the case of Marla’s death. He just wasn’t doing it in any kind of official capacity. If this man told them to leave, they’d have no choice but to go.
“Know it was another officer ,” the bartender said with a curt nod. “Don’t mean the answers to the questions will change just because you’re asking them again. I don’t know anything more.”
“What about the other man?” Darcy asked quickly. “The one with the port wine stain on his face?”
The bartender raised an eyebrow. “ You mean Finn?”
Darcy exchanged a look with Jon. Could it really be that easy?
“Who is Finn?” Jon asked.
The bartender nodded his head off toward the opposite corner of the room. Past the dancefloor there was a cluster of small round tables. At one of them, in the shadows, sat the dark haired man with the port wine stain that Darcy had seen the night Marla was killed.
Jon and Darcy went and sat down at the table with the man. He looked up, his eyebrows lowering, the birthmark on his left ch eek crinkling. He had been poring over some paperwork. Now he tossed his pen down and looked from one of them to the other. “Who are you?”
“Detective Tinker,” Jon said. “I understand you were here the night that Marla Benson was killed. ”
“Sure I was. I’m here every night. I own the place.”
Darcy blinked. “You’re the owner?”
“Yup. I bought out the previous owner seven years ago. Brad Finn.” He held out his hand to her, then to Jon. “Good to meet you. Detective I want to help in any way I can. What can I do for you?”
***
In a back room of the bar, Brad showed them the recording device with its attached monitor. “I know Riley. We’re friends, actually. There’s no way he hurt that woman. I told the last guy the same exact thing.”
“That’s not what the investigating officer thinks,” Jon told him.
Still rewinding the images on the screen Brad said, “I thought you were investigating this?”
“I am,” Jon said. “But someone else is the primary officer.”
Brad nodded. “I see. Well, whatever. I don’t care who sees this as long as someone does. The officer
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