*
Rancher’s Bar opened promptly at five. Mattheus got there about six minutes before opening, stood outside, leaned against a street post and waited for someone to arrive. The bar was located in a sketchy neighborhood, way over at the other side of town. A bunch of motorcycles were parked diagonally along the street, in front of small shanty buildings where people lived cheap. The air down here felt heavy with the smell of cooking coming out of the windows, grease, cigarettes and pot. You could hear rap music coming from some apartments, and a few bikers with tattoos passed by. One of them looked Mattheus over.
“Waiting for some?” the biker scrutinized Mattheus, as if he might be on the prowl for dope.
“Not now,” said Mattheus gruffly, trying to pretend he was one of the guys.
“Uh huh,” the guy kept walking.
In a few more minutes another big, muscular guy with a square face, old jeans, earring in both ears and red cap on his head, came up to the bar and leaned against the door. Then he took a key out of his pocket and opened it up.
Mattheus straightened up. That had to be Tommy. Mattheus gave him a few minutes to go inside, and get things going, before he decided to stroll inside and say hello.
The bar was still empty and half dark when Mattheus walked in. Tommy’s back was to him, lining up glasses along the bar.
“Hey,” Mattheus said as he sat down on a bar stool.
Startled, Tommy turned around.
“Hey man, you scared me. Didn’t hear you come in.”
“Sorry about that,” said Mattheus.
Tommy looked Mattheus over. “Haven’t seen you here before,” he said.
“Anthony sent me,” said Mattheus in a hushed tone. He didn’t want to waste any time. It was perfect to get to Tommy now before the crowd started arriving.
Tommy’s jaw fell. “Anthony sent you?”
“Your buddy in jail,” said Mattheus.
“Who the hell are you, man?” Tommy asked, defensive. He was being protective of Anthony and Mattheus liked that.
“It’s not what you think,” said Mattheus, leaning over the bar. “Hey, how about a beer before we talk?”
Tommy wasn’t budging, or giving anything up.
“Talk about what?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.
“I’m here to help Anthony,” Mattheus said then. “I’m a detective from the Caribbean.”
“The Caribbean? Tell me another.” Anthony frowned. You could see it didn’t make sense to him.
“Give me a minute,” said Mattheus.
“What’s this? Some kind of hoax?” Anthony interrupted. “You think I’m a jerk or something?”
“No, really, it’s true,” said Mattheus.
“Really, my ass,” said Tommy. “The police here haven’t even bothered to darken my doorstep, even though Anthony told them about me at least fifteen times. So why should someone come from the Caribbean? Why should I believe you?”
“The police didn’t come because you’re a close friend of Anthony’s,” Mattheus said. “You’re not a reliable witness.”
Tommy relented a second. “Yeah, well, I am a reliable witness.”
“I believe that,” said Mattheus, looking straight at him. “That’s why I’m here, talking to you.”
“You believe that? How come?” asked Tommy.
“Because I have no choice,” answered Mattheus, straight up. “My gut tells me Anthony didn’t do it and I don’t know who else to talk to.”
Tommy liked that. He calmed down a little. “What kind of beer you want, Mister?” he asked.
Mattheus told him and Tommy poured some from the tap. It was good to have some beer now, and Mattheus drank a lot of it fast.
“Take it easy, guy,” Tommy said. “There’s more where that came from.”
“How long did you know Anthony?” Mattheus wanted to jump right in.
“Years,” said Tommy, turning his cap around on his head. “He’s a great guy!”
“I heard that from a lot of people,” said Mattheus.
Tommy was surprised, “Yeah? Who? I thought you didn’t have anyone else to talk to about it?”
Mattheus smiled. This guy didn’t miss a trick, he would make a terrific detective.
“I didn’t talk to anyone else, my partner did,” said Mattheus. “She’s talking to some women down at the Shelter today, as we speak.”
Tommy looked confused. “The abused women’s Shelter?”
“Yeah, where Shelly worked.”
“Oh yeah,” said Tommy. “I forgot about that. I heard she did a good job.”
“The women down there also said that they liked Anthony.”
“Everyone liked the guy,” said Tommy. “This is his damn, rotten luck.”
“But his alibi doesn’t hold,” said Mattheus.
Tommy made a fist and banged it on the bar.
“It holds,” he said. “I know his stupid cousin Bella for years. Everyone down here knows her. It’s no secret, she’s a druggie. Bella told Anthony to come and live with her when he split from Shelly. So, he went. I told him it was a great idea.”