She offered a cautious smile as if she’d already sensed they were cops. Likely, spotting cops was part of the job.
“What can I do for you, gentlemen?”
Garrison pulled out his badge from his pocket. “I’m Detective Deacon Garrison and this is my partner, Detective Malcolm Kier. We’re with the Alexandria police.”
“You’re a little out of your jurisdiction, aren’t you?”
“We’d like to ask you a couple of questions,” Garrison said.
She glanced up, her gaze full of challenge. “About?”
“One of your regulars. ”
“Man or woman?”
“Woman.” Garrison pulled out Lisa Black’s Division of Motor Vehicles picture. “You seen her lately?”
The bartender arched a neatly plucked eyebrow. She glanced at the customers at the end of the bar and noted their nervous glances. “You’re bad for business.”
“Answer my questions and we’ll leave.”
“I’m not paid to answer questions.” She picked up a glass and started to polish it.
Garrison leaned forward and smiled. “I can start questioning each of your customers.”
Blue eyes turned to ice. “That won’t be necessary. Let me see the picture again.”
Garrison pushed it across the bar toward her. “Take your time.”
“Her name is Lisa, I think. She comes here a couple of nights a week.”
“Did she meet anyone here in particular?” Malcolm said.
“She met a lot of men. She liked variety.”
“Any one of these guys appeared questionable? Anyone that seemed like trouble?”
The bartender arched a brow. “A two-thousand-dollar suit hides a lot of sins. And I don’t ask for character references when people order drinks and tip well.”
“So no trouble,” Garrison said.
“No trouble.”
“When did you see Lisa last?”
“It’s been a couple of weeks but I took last week off. This is my first night back. Is she in some kind of trouble?”
“She’s dead.”
If this woman did know something, she carefully masked her thoughts. “When?”
“That’s something we’re trying to figure out.” He pulled out his notebook. “Now when was the last time you saw her? ”
“One week ago to the day. She ordered her Chardon-nay like she always did.”
“Business as usual.”
“Yes, and no. She looked great like she always did, but she was just a little off.”
“How so?”
She picked up a clean towel and started to polish an already-clean glass as if she needed something to do with her hands. “Something was bothering her.”
“Such as? ”
“I asked, and she mentioned past mistakes. I asked a second time for more details and she said something about the past coming back to haunt her. I pressed but she clammed up. She’s a big girl and if she wanted to tell me something she would. I serve drinks. I’m not a priest.”
“What can you tell me about her?”
The bartender shrugged. “She was popular. Never had trouble finding a date. That blond hair and blue eyes are like money in the bank. Plus she was clever. ”
“How so?”
“She came from the world of the rich. You could tell by the way she talked. She knew books and sometimes she spoke French. She knew etiquette.”
“What else can you tell me about her?”
“Hey, it’s not like she and I really bonded. We just chatted.”
“About?”
“She talked a lot about traveling. She wanted to get out of town. She’d had a rich older boyfriend for a while but he had left her and she was talking about a change of scenery.”
“Did she ever mention the boyfriend’s name?”
“No. But he was rich. Always had his bodyguard/driver with him. ”
“When did they break up?”
“About eight months ago.”
“She go out with anyone more than once?”
“Not that I saw. I think long-term connections didn’t suit her so well.”
“You remember any of the guys she hooked up with?”
“No. And if I remembered a name it was a first name only. I’m not a den mother.”
Garrison handed the bartender his card. “The person that killed Lisa did some very nasty things to her. She did not die easy. I want to catch this guy.”
She set down the glass. “Have you gone by the security offices? They tape all the entrances. They keep the tapes for at least ten days.”
“Do they tape the bar area?”
“They do.”
“Where can I find your security office?”
“Basement.”
Garrison and Kier left the bartender and the gawking patrons to ride the elevator down to the basement. It took just minutes before their badges earned them passage into the director of security’s office. The brass plate on the door read: HANK MCMINN.
The director wore a navy bluejacket and khakis, which covered a lean frame. A crew cut accentuated the lines etched around his eyes. The guy had to be pushing fifty but Garrison sensed his reflexes remained quick and strong.
Garrison showed his badge and Lisa’s picture, and explained the purpose of their visit.
McMinn studied her picture. “Sure, we tape every public corner in this hotel. We’ve got a lot of higherups that frequent the place and we like to keep tabs. The cameras are well hidden, though. People here don’t like to be recorded. But we’ve got to protect ourselves.”
“Understood. We’re simply after Lisa and whoever she may have left with during the last couple of weeks.”
He swiveled his chair toward a computer screen on a credenza behind his desk. “What dates?”
“She was last seen a week ago.”
McMinn pulled the digital tapes from Friday night. The three watched as McMinn scanned quickly through the hours. No sign of Lisa on Friday night. Saturday night she appeared at eight-seventeen and sat at the bar. She ordered and waited alone for several minutes before a man took a seat at the bar. He wore a nice suit but he’d chosen his seat so that his back was to the camera. At eight thirty-four a woman arrived at the club and screamed that she had a flat tire. Everyone, including Lisa, turned in her direction. The mystery man leaned forward and put something in her drink. Two minutes later, she stumbled out of the bar.
“He was in the bar,” Garrison said. “I’m going to need all your tapes for the last few months.”
McMinn shifted, his stance now rigid and defensive. “If the general manager gives the okay and the lawyers bless the exchange, I can give you tapes by tomorrow.”
Garrison handed him his card. “If not, I’ll get a warrant.”