L OW , cheap-whiskey lighting bled over the scruffy interior of the Cat’s Paw, licking Maury the bartender’s shiny head. Around the slender man, drunks who had no place else to go this late at night slouched in their chairs until last call, when they’d have to find another place to pass out. Fumes from doubled shots thickened the summer-night atmosphere, and the air-conditioning unit was on the blink, making the pockmarked tables slick with sweat from the melted ice of cocktail glasses.
But the stink didn’t seem to bother Maury. And neither did the garlic Dawn and Breisi wore on their skin like nose-flaring cologne. He’d no doubt smelled much worse.
He stood behind the bar, flashing a gold-capped smile as Dawn and Breisi checked in with him.
“You girls don’t give up, do ya?” Maury asked. Then his smile fell as he shook his head. “I wish I had good news. That’d make me and the boys a lot happier. We miss old Frank.”
Dawn turned to scan the anemic bar crowd, her gaze snagged by a lush named Stanton, who was leaning his cheek against the rough wooden wall, just below a chalkboard announcing a woefully misspelled “French Frys” special. Every time she and Breisi walked into the Cat’s Paw, they knew they were wasting their time. Thing was, they couldn’t stop coming. There was always that one teeny, niggling hope that maybe, just maybe, tonight would be the night that yielded the biggest break of all.
Giving up on Frank’s hangout was like giving up on him.
“I think we’ve chatted with every regular customer about five times over,” she said.
Stanton the drunk’s mouth opened and a thread of saliva rolled out.
“Believe me, Dawnie,” Maury said. “These guys don’t mind you and Breisi giving them the time of day. Not at all.”
On the next stool, Breisi flinched at the nickname “Dawnie.” It’s what Frank had called his daughter. Hearing it must’ve brought him back to Breisi, even just a little. Unfortunately, the two of them had blown up at each other just before Frank had disappeared, leaving Breisi with hard regrets. Lately, she’d opened up more, hinting about the depths of her feelings for the ex–bar bouncer. Dawn understood Breisi’s remorse. Definitely. All too well.
Since Frank and Dawn weren’t the closest, she hadn’t even known he’d been dating anyone, much less working with a freakin’ paranormal investigative team. Talk about remorse.
Dawn smiled at her coworker, trying to soften the blow of missing Frank. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Stanton slump a tad more against that wall.
“No,” Maury continued, “the boys don’t mind the two of you at all. I remember how Hugh Wayne pranced around here for hours after Dawn and that midget friend showed him some attention.”
They’d interviewed the big, burly Hugh when Dawn had first started her hunt for Frank. It hadn’t helped much.
“Haven’t seen Hugh since then,” Dawn said.
“Me, either.” Maury tapped his hands on the bar. “He’s probably doing another stint in the slammer.”
“Yup, Frank’s buddies. Gotta love them.”
In the meantime, Dawn caught Stanton’s face sliding down the wall an inch, then two. She sucked in a breath, anticipating the splinters the guy would be wearing.
Jeez. She hopped off of her stool, went over, and carefully faced him forward so as not to awaken him. Not that she could ever hope to. He was out. After looking him over for facial splinters—he didn’t have any, thank God—she nodded to Breisi, indicating that there was nothing left here to do.
Before getting off her stool, Breisi ran a slow gaze around the bar. It was one final sip of Frank that would have to tide her over. Then, shoulders slumped, she stood, holding her hand out to Maury for a shake. “Thanks again.”
“Yeah, Maury, thanks. And good luck with your daughter’s wedding this weekend.”
“Ah.” The bartender flapped a towel in flippant dismissal. “They’re eloping to Vegas to a tiny chapel that has scrub brush for decoration, I’ll bet. Only the best for my kid.”
Dawn grinned, walking with Breisi out the door, but not before she spent a glance on Stanton. He now had drool coating his chin and, since it wasn’t going to hurt him, Dawn let it go.
Outside, the moon paled the sidewalk, turning it ghostly as they headed in the direction of Breisi’s tricked-up 4Runner. She’d modified it herself, jacked up its speed and put in extra storage compartments that held an arsenal of monster-fighting equipment—everything from spirit-hunting temperature gauges to pump-action shotguns for more solid attackers, like ghouls. Not that they’d ever run into any. Yet.
“You okay?” Dawn asked.
“Why?” A gust of warm night wind stirred the sharp edges of Breisi’s bob.