“And a ten for the bouncer,” Crawford said.
“I’ll give it to him,” Smitty said, reaching for the extra bill.
She snatched it out of his reach. “I’ll see to it, thank you.”
She seemed impervious to, and in no way intimidated by, the lurid pictures papering the walls. Instead, the way she looked at Smitty as she handed him the money to cover the tab, she might have been in court, rendering a life sentence of hard labor.
“Your customer is obviously intoxicated. Yet you’ve admitted to continuing to serve him, over a course of hours, sixty-seven dollars’ worth of alcohol. Had anything untoward happened as a result of his inebriation, you could have been held responsible and criminally charged. The doors of this grimy establishment would have been padlocked. You were very fortunate this time. Mr. Hunt might be willing to overlook your negligent and potentially criminal disregard for his father’s debilitation…in exchange for your discretion.”
Smitty’s brow was furrowed, but he translated the language well enough. He wet his lips nervously and said, “Sure, sure, judge. I wouldn’t let on about this. Crawford’s a friend. We go way back.”
Crawford canceled that sentiment with a snort. “Hold the door so we can get out of here.” After Holly went ahead of him, he hung back long enough to say to Smitty, “I don’t care how far back we go, you breathe a word about her being here, and I’ll rip your balls off.”
Smitty gave him a sickly smile, as though he just might be taking the warning seriously.
Crawford managed to get Conrad to his SUV and into the backseat. The old man slumped sideways, his head coming to rest on the arm of Georgia’s car seat. Crawford resolved to have it sanitized before he put her in it again. If she ever got to ride with him again.
The bouncer had delivered Conrad’s car, and Holly had given him his tip. “Do you mind driving that?” Crawford asked of the roughly idling heap.
“Not at all.” She walked around to the driver’s side and got behind the wheel.
Mortified and angry, Crawford climbed into his SUV. Once on the highway, he maintained his speed so Holly would have no trouble following him. Besides, he was in no rush for her to see the squalid condition of Conrad’s house.
When they arrived, she came over and handed him Conrad’s car keys, plus his own money clip. “Don’t forget this.”
“Thanks. If you touched Smitty, you’ll want to scrub your hands with disinfectant.”
“But he was such a gracious host.” She fluttered a small piece of paper. “He sneaked me this while you weren’t looking.”
“What is it?”
“A coupon for the cover charge on my next visit.”
“That lousy lowlife. I should turn around and—”
He broke off when Conrad opened the door of the backseat and got out. “I don’t recommend Smitty’s places. The dancers are only so-so and the restrooms stink worse than outhouses.”
No longer drooling, reasonably clear-eyed, he was standing perfectly upright. He hadn’t slurred a single word. He smiled. “Surprise!”
Conrad extended his hand to Holly. “Judge Spencer, I was hoping I’d have an opportunity to meet you. I’m Conrad Hunt.”
She shook his hand. “Mr. Hunt.”
“Thank you for driving my car home.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I felt it best that I continue the act till we got here. Was I convincing?”
“Very,” she said, laughing lightly.
Beaming her a smile, he said, “Come in, come in.” He placed a guiding hand beneath her elbow and directed her toward the house. “Watch your step. I would have cleared a path, but I didn’t know I’d be having guests tonight.”
Crawford, having recovered from his shock, planted himself in front of them. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Conrad?”
“I’m showing some manners. Which is more than I can say for you.”
“Why the act? What are you trying to pull?”
Conrad fanned the air in front of his face to wave away mosquitoes. “Bloodsuckers. The judge will be eaten alive if we don’t get her inside.”
He nudged Crawford out of his way and continued on, warning Holly again to be careful where she stepped. Bringing up the rear, Crawford muttered that Conrad had had years to clear the path to his door. The yard was still littered with junk, but he was shocked and relieved to find that the interior of the house, at least the rooms immediately visible as he went through the front door, had been tidied since his visit on Tuesday.
At some point during the drive from the nightclub, Conrad had tucked in his shirttail and smoothed down his hair, which had been standing on end when they left. He actually looked halfway presentable.