The Little Grave (Detective Amanda Steele)

“And I still haven’t gotten your name.”

“Because I haven’t given it to you.”

She stared him down.

“Charlie Brown,” he eventually pushed out.

“You’re shit— You’re serious?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Like the cartoon? The kid with a beagle who sleeps on the roof of his doghouse.” She smirked, enjoying the irony that such a formidable man had such a comedic name. “Someone’s parents had a bad sense of humor.”

His jaw tensed. “You think?”

“Listen, Mr. Brown, I’m just trying to fill in this man’s last few hours alive.”

“What happened to him?”

“Ah, no, not at liberty to say,” she told him, “but you have a chance to possibly be a hero.”

“Never been an aspiration of mine.”

“Hey, Charlie, another!” one of the drinkers called out and held up his empty glass.

“You’ll have to excuse me.” Charlie fulfilled the order and returned.

“What was he drinking?”

“Him?” Charlie jacked a thumb at the drunk.

“The guy who died.”

“Vodka on the rocks.”

Vodka. Not only had Palmer returned to the same bar he’d frequented the night of the accident, he had drunk the same thing. The world really was a better place without him in it. An opinion she’d keep to herself. And she couldn’t forget the promise she’d made at Lindsey’s grave. She took a deep breath and asked, “When did he leave?”

“See ya, Charlie.” Blue Eyes got off his barstool and headed out.

“See ya, George,” the tender said back.

What was this place—Cheers?

“Time. He left,” Amanda prompted, trying to wrangle Charlie’s attention back to her.

“Say, ten.”

“Early night. Was he drunk when he left?”

“Guy couldn’t walk straight, so yeah.”

“So you called him a cab?”

“Not my job.”

It took recollection of Malone’s stern reminder to keep drama out of the investigation for her not to climb over the bar and throttle Charlie where he stood. She could introduce her fist to his nose. She could have lectured him about the responsibilities that go with his job. She could have reported him to the liquor board. But none of those things would keep him talking. “So he was driving,” she accused.

“No idea. Not like I’m outside watching everyone as they come and go.”