He slipped again. Only a couple of inches left before the slumped body would meet the floor. The bartender moved to the end of the counter but kept a watchful eye on the two of us. If he wasn't careful, holes would start to appear in the rag he used as he continued to rub it across the counter.
The patron shifted back onto the stool and rubbed his eyes. His hand knocked the glass in front of him, but, just in time, he tilted it upright. I noticed the frayed edges of his worn coat. If he shaved at all, it had been a while. His grey stocking cap matched his whole appearance.
"I saw the news on television, you know," he said. "It was a crying shame he ended up like that."
"Do you remember if he was in here the night he was murdered?"
The man shook his head back and forth. "That was just terrible." He suddenly perked up. "I think he was in here that night. We had a couple of drinks together. Anyway, we were having a pretty good time. And, just like that, he up and left." His attempt to snap his fingers failed. "I figured he was going to play Santa Claus someplace."
"Did he say where he was going?"
For a split second he appeared to be in deep thought. Recall flooded his eyes. "He didn't leave right then. A tall man with dark hair came in and they stood there and talked. The man was dressed pretty good for this side of town. He looked important in that suit." His speech became clearer. "Yes, that was it. I remember now."
"Did Frank tell you what they talked about?"
"He didn't come back in. The man sat down and ordered a drink. He gulped it down and left." The man on the stool swerved and called to the bartender. "Billy, what did that man drink? Do you remember?"
The bartender glared at him. "I don't even remember him being in here much less what he had to drink. I don't get into personal stuff with my customers."
The man on the bar stool turned back to me. "Well, that's about it. I just remember Frank in that getup. It was like he was really Santa." He gulped down another shot. "'Course Santa doesn't usually come to bars." A bit of saliva dripped from a corner of his mouth when he grinned.
"Thanks. At least, I know Frank was here that night and that he talked to someone," I said. "What's your name?"
"I'm Joe." I handed Joe a five dollar bill for his next drink and left. On my way to the door I thought there was only one man who fit the description and it was Steven Landers. Other than when he cooked a couple of meals for me, any time I saw him he wore a business suit. He was tall and he had dark brown hair.
Deep in thought, I was stupid not to be aware of surroundings outside the door of Tommy's Bar. Strong hands clamped my mouth shut. Sheer panic set in when I found it impossible to turn around to see my attacker. My neck almost snapped when he jerked me close. The voice was sinister and threatening. Hot breath blew into my left ear. The faint scent of a man's aftershave reached my nose when I attempted a frantic gasp of air.
"It's time to back off this case if you want to see the holidays."
Strong arms pushed me to the ground. The refrozen snow on the shadowed ground pierced my face. I fell once before I steadied my feet to a stand-up position. My head swam when I turned around to see who had threatened me. Two stray cats ran across the empty alley. My heart thumped as if on fire and I stumbled to my car. When I looked at Tommy's Bar there was no new activity. The voice that snuck up behind me was not one I recognized. I tried to place the aftershave scent but failed.
It took two tries to turn the key in the ignition. I then sped off to a more inviting area of West River. When I parked in the parking lot of a large grocery store, I dialed Daniel. My hands shook when I hit speed dial. When I returned his greeting, he picked up on my frenzied voice.
"What's wrong, Laila?" he asked. "Are you all right?"
I told him of my experience outside Tommy's Bar. "I don't know who attacked me, but the man that Joe described fits Steven."
"Oh, no, Laila, I should never have suggested you go down there. You have to tell Donald about this right away."
For the moment, he chose not to mention Steven's name. I wasn't in any frame of mind to go to the precinct and meet with Chief Hayes at this point. "I'll be all right. The person is long gone by now. I just wish I could figure out that voice."
"I don't think Steven would have grabbed you like that and threatened you. I just can't believe Steven would do something like kill Frank.
"I just don't know. When I'm with Steven, I feel he isn't the guilty person. But then when I talk to someone like Joe I'm not so sure."
"You did say this Joe was a little drunk. He could have been describing anyone he saw in the bar that night."
"I know that, too. And he was more than a little drunk. I think I'll talk to Steven again. I'll make it a casual visit. That way I can decide if he was the one at Tommy's that night." I paused. "I can't believe he would do that to me outside the bar either. I want to believe he is innocent of all of this like you do."
"Please be careful, Laila."
My hands continued to shake. I asked myself why I was so compulsive in trying to solve a real life murder.
Chapter Sixteen
Heading for Steven's Steakhouse, it was nearly impossible to erase the scent of my attacker. Late afternoon had emerged into early evening. Shops along the street near the Steakhouse were catering to last minute shoppers. The restaurant was lit and parking spaces were taken except for a few. The Steakhouse was back in business. When I entered, I heard Jingle Bells from the player piano. Lights on the Christmas tree sparkled. Diners were enjoying their dinners.
"Is Steven around?" I asked the cashier.