like he’s returning from a bathroom break.”
Nick approached the bar, shaking his head, his dark eyes animated. “Kim, can you send a Corona my way?” He turned to me. “Sean, man, I’m glad Dave found you. I was sitting at a table in the corner, doing my monthly accounting, when I overheard these two half-drunk dudes at another table, talkin’ about someone dying—a murder.” Nick took a long pull from an icy bottle, his face blooming in color, the center of his moustache wet from beer foam.
“Are they still here?” I asked.
“No. They left when the music started.”
“Describe them.”
“Hell, Sean, they looked like most of the deck hands around here. Like they’d been sleepin’ in their clothes. Kinda like I look after I have been at sea for a couple of weeks. One guy was about twenty, I guess. Blond. Tryin’ to grow whiskers. Wore a Yankees’ hat backwards and a blue Orlando Magic jersey. The other due was older, maybe forty. Heavyset fella. He was wearin’ a black T-shirt with the words Harley-Davidson on the front. He had a tattoo of a naked mermaid on his arm. Big damn tits—” He cut his eyes over to Kim. “Sorry, Kimberly.” She smiled and Nick said, “Both left with barbecue sauce in the corners of their mouths ‘cause they must have eaten a few dozen wings between them. The older guy called the younger one Smitty.”
Dave nodded. “Your powers of observation are improving. Maybe it’s because you’ve spent quality time with Sean.”
“Nick, what exactly did you hear?” I asked.
“They were goin’ through a few pitchers of Miller Beer during the happy hour. Before they left, I overheard some crazy shit. Stuff like how the dead guy at the fair got what was comin’ to him ‘cause he was markin’ the deck.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kim asked. “A payback for a cheating a poker bet?”
“Could mean just about anything,” I said. “Sounds like he was taking a cut of some kind of action.”
Dave nodded. “Carnivals can be a backdrop, true moveable feasts, for crime and those who commit crimes.”
Nick looked around the bar for a moment. “Sean, maybe this means the girl didn’t kill the guy, unless she does hits for hire.”
“It means that the police need to question these two. I’ll put in a call to Detective Grant. Nick, tell him what you told us. Describe the men to him.” I punched in Grant’s number. Nick flexed both hands into fists, relieving tension. Thirty seconds later, Grant answered. “Sean O’Brien. I’m glad you called. Did the girl, Courtney Burke, happen to return to your boat?”
“No, why?”
“Because now a warrant’s been issued for her arrest. Forensics matched. Blood. Prints on ice pick. Her story of a hooded assailant is iffy at best. A witness came forth and said he’d heard them arguing. Seems like Ms. Burke is the jealous type. Sounds like a typical case of hell has no fury like—”
“Sounds like supposition to me, Dan. Listen, I’m standing here at the Tiki Bar at the marina. A friend of mine overheard two men talking. Carnival workers, most likely. They were drinking heavily, and one was telling the other that the murder was a hit—a payback or revenge killing for something.”
“Can your friend ID these men?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, but before I speak with your friend, unless the men he overheard were eye witnesses to a murder, most likely they’ll deny having said anything in the bar, and it’ll be circumstantial at best.”
“Dan, just listen to what Nick has to say.”
I handed the phone to Nick, who took a long swallow from the bottle, blew out a breath and said, “Hello.” He placed one hand over his open ear and stepped out on the dock to tell his story.
I turned toward Kim. “Can you remember what these men looked like?”
“Nothing beyond what Nick said. Judy was the server. She left as the night servers came to work.”
“How’d they pay the bill, cash or credit?”
“Hold on,
Nick approached the bar, shaking his head, his dark eyes animated. “Kim, can you send a Corona my way?” He turned to me. “Sean, man, I’m glad Dave found you. I was sitting at a table in the corner, doing my monthly accounting, when I overheard these two half-drunk dudes at another table, talkin’ about someone dying—a murder.” Nick took a long pull from an icy bottle, his face blooming in color, the center of his moustache wet from beer foam.
“Are they still here?” I asked.
“No. They left when the music started.”
“Describe them.”
“Hell, Sean, they looked like most of the deck hands around here. Like they’d been sleepin’ in their clothes. Kinda like I look after I have been at sea for a couple of weeks. One guy was about twenty, I guess. Blond. Tryin’ to grow whiskers. Wore a Yankees’ hat backwards and a blue Orlando Magic jersey. The other due was older, maybe forty. Heavyset fella. He was wearin’ a black T-shirt with the words Harley-Davidson on the front. He had a tattoo of a naked mermaid on his arm. Big damn tits—” He cut his eyes over to Kim. “Sorry, Kimberly.” She smiled and Nick said, “Both left with barbecue sauce in the corners of their mouths ‘cause they must have eaten a few dozen wings between them. The older guy called the younger one Smitty.”
Dave nodded. “Your powers of observation are improving. Maybe it’s because you’ve spent quality time with Sean.”
“Nick, what exactly did you hear?” I asked.
“They were goin’ through a few pitchers of Miller Beer during the happy hour. Before they left, I overheard some crazy shit. Stuff like how the dead guy at the fair got what was comin’ to him ‘cause he was markin’ the deck.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kim asked. “A payback for a cheating a poker bet?”
“Could mean just about anything,” I said. “Sounds like he was taking a cut of some kind of action.”
Dave nodded. “Carnivals can be a backdrop, true moveable feasts, for crime and those who commit crimes.”
Nick looked around the bar for a moment. “Sean, maybe this means the girl didn’t kill the guy, unless she does hits for hire.”
“It means that the police need to question these two. I’ll put in a call to Detective Grant. Nick, tell him what you told us. Describe the men to him.” I punched in Grant’s number. Nick flexed both hands into fists, relieving tension. Thirty seconds later, Grant answered. “Sean O’Brien. I’m glad you called. Did the girl, Courtney Burke, happen to return to your boat?”
“No, why?”
“Because now a warrant’s been issued for her arrest. Forensics matched. Blood. Prints on ice pick. Her story of a hooded assailant is iffy at best. A witness came forth and said he’d heard them arguing. Seems like Ms. Burke is the jealous type. Sounds like a typical case of hell has no fury like—”
“Sounds like supposition to me, Dan. Listen, I’m standing here at the Tiki Bar at the marina. A friend of mine overheard two men talking. Carnival workers, most likely. They were drinking heavily, and one was telling the other that the murder was a hit—a payback or revenge killing for something.”
“Can your friend ID these men?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, but before I speak with your friend, unless the men he overheard were eye witnesses to a murder, most likely they’ll deny having said anything in the bar, and it’ll be circumstantial at best.”
“Dan, just listen to what Nick has to say.”
I handed the phone to Nick, who took a long swallow from the bottle, blew out a breath and said, “Hello.” He placed one hand over his open ear and stepped out on the dock to tell his story.
I turned toward Kim. “Can you remember what these men looked like?”
“Nothing beyond what Nick said. Judy was the server. She left as the night servers came to work.”
“How’d they pay the bill, cash or credit?”
“Hold on,
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