Chapter 30

Sarah introduced herself and Sophie to the bartender at Barney’s. It was midafternoon, and there were only three people in the bar: an elderly man sitting at the bar, looking as if he’d already had his quota of alcohol for the day, and a young couple in a back booth clearly attempting to resolve a disagreement.

“I’m Rick,” the young bartender responded, wondering why the women were introducing themselves. “What can I get you?”

“Oh, no. We aren’t here for drinks. We wanted to talk to you about a couple of women we heard have been in here.”

“If this is about your husbands, I don’t get mixed up in family feuds. ‘What happens at Barney’s stays at Barney’s,’ as they say.” He grabbed a towel and began wiping the bar. “Sure you don’t want a drink?”

“I’ll have something,” Sophie spoke up as she pulled herself up onto a bar stool. “How about one of those things that looks like a milkshake.”

“I can make you a grasshopper …”

“What’s that?” Sophie asked, looking interested.

“Its crème de menthe, cream, mint chocolate chip ice cream, and milk.”

Sophie smiled. “I’ll have one of those with whipped cream on top,” she responded, reaching for her wallet. “But leave out the alcohol.”

“Look lady, this ain’t no ice cream parlor.”

Sarah immediately spoke up. “Could you just give it to her with the alcohol on the side? I really need to talk with you.”

Rick didn’t look too pleased, but at least this would justify charging the full price for the drink. After he added a generous portion of whipped cream and placed the glass in front of Sophie, he turned to Sarah. “Okay, what is it you want to know?”

“I have some questions about a man named Maxwell Coleman. He’s the man who …”

“Oh, I know who Max Coleman was. A real womanizer, and I can say that now since the man’s dead. There’s no privacy to protect now.”

Oh, the complexities of bartender-customer confidentiality, Sarah thought. “I’m trying to find two young women that were involved with him—one a blond and one a redhead.”

“I know who you mean, but I’ll have to think about how much I can tell you. They’re still living, and I’m not sure I should be telling tales on them …” he responded hesitantly.

“He wants some incentive money,” Sophie said without looking up from her half-empty glass.

“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t think about that.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a twenty. He looked at the bill without a reaction. She pulled out another and said, “This is for my friend’s drink; keep the change.”

Rick took the two bills, and Sarah noticed he slipped them both into his pants pocket without going to the register. “Okay,” he began. “I can tell you one thing about them. The blond is in here ’most every night and leaves with a different man now that ol’ Max is gone. The redhead’s a different story. She comes in once in a while, usually on the weekend. If you come by here on Saturday night around 9:00, you’ll probably catch one or maybe both of them.”

Sophie slurped the last of her drink and started to get off the barstool. Sarah had remained standing throughout the exchange. As Sophie’s foot touched the ground, her bad knee collapsed under her. Sarah grabbed for her and was able to keep her from hitting the floor, although she found herself partially pinned between Sophie and the barstool. The man at the back table jumped up and came over to help get them both back on their feet. “You ladies should watch that drinking at your age,” he said as he turned to return to his table.

Sophie started to respond, but Sarah was able to stop her. “We’ll see you Saturday,” Sarah called to Rick as they were leaving.

“That was embarrassing,” Sophie muttered as they reached the car.

* * * * *

When Sarah got Sophie delivered to her door and returned home herself, the phone was ringing.

“Sarah, it’s John. I just left Licensing and Inspection. I met with our Mr. Rawlins, and I’m feeling very suspicious. He acts like he’s got a lot to hide, and he knew I was picking up on it. As soon as I started asking questions, he got very nervous and cut our visit short.”

“Did you leave right away?”

“Yeah. I didn’t seem to have a choice. But as I walked past his secretary, I overheard him on the intercom asking her to get Braxton on the phone right away.”

“I’m going to call Jackson up at the capital. He’s the FBI agent I told you about. I’m asking him to look into B&H and Rawlins. It might even involve the entire Licensing and Inspection Department. I’m guessing Max Coleman got caught in the middle.”

And if so, it cost him his life, Sarah thought.

That evening, Sarah entered through the visitor’s door at the jail and checked in with the guard. She started to introduce herself, but the man said, “Good evening, Mrs. Parker.” She smiled and wondered if it was really a good thing to be well known in this particular venue.

“May I see him?” she asked with a friendly smile, despite the nervousness she always felt when she signed in. She glanced down at her outfit as she read the sign: No revealing clothing. No sleeves shorter than halfway down the arm. No spandex. No dress or skirt above mid-thigh. No clothing displaying obscene language or gang affiliation. A second sign reminded visitors to place everything they were carrying into a locker, including purses, wallets, packages, phones, recorders, writing implements, and weapons. She tucked her locker key into the pocket of her loose-fitting, appropriate outfit and proceeded to the door that led into the secured area. The guard met her at the door and let her in. “Thank you,” she responded compliantly. She hated being there.

The moment they led Charles into the room, her entire demeanor changed. The smile that crossed her face was immediately reflected on Charles’ face as he brightened up at the sight of her. “Sarah. I’ve missed you.”

Visiting times were Friday through Monday evenings, with a depressing break in between. “I wish I could see you more often,” she said as she reached across the table to hold his hand. The guards were allowing this exception to the rule regularly now. They talked about the family and John, with Charles initiating the topics. She was hesitant to bring up anything that would cause him grief.

“How about the house?” he asked. She hadn’t been there since her initial visit.

“I should go back. I doubt there was much done since I was there last.”

“I don’t know. The roof is probably on,” Charles speculated, “and I was hoping they got the right colors. We changed our minds so often, I’m not sure anymore what color the house will be.”

Sarah smiled and reminded him of their final decision. “It’s like the model,” she said. “Light green siding with white trim and dark green shutters.”

“Ah, yes. Well, be sure they got it right.”

“I’ll check tomorrow,” she said. “I’ve been wanting to take John by, but we haven’t had a chance this week.”

“How’s the investigation going?” he asked, “And are you careful about what you’re doing? I’m concerned about you getting in over your head …”

“I’m only doing what John assigns me. And I always take someone with me. A couple of days ago, Sophie and I went to Barney’s and got information about Max’s girlfriends. We’re going back on Saturday night …”

“Take John with you,” Charles interrupted. “I don’t want you two there alone with that Saturday night crowd. I’ve seen them.”

“Hmm. I guess that would work. We want the girls to feel free to talk.”

“John’s one handsome dude,” Charles said with a chuckle. “He’ll get them talking. In fact, I wonder if he should go by himself.”

“I’ll ask him,” Sarah replied. “Actually, I was feeling a bit uneasy about that part myself.”

Charles started to say something, but Sarah interrupted him with a big smile on her face. “Wait! I’ve got to tell you about Sophie.” She proceeded to tell him about the milkshake Sophie had managed to trick the reluctant bartender into making, and how she then slid from the barstool, causing a customer to accuse them both of having too much to drink. It was the first time she had seen Charles laugh in weeks.

The guard indicated that it was time for Sarah to leave. Charles leaned across the table and kissed her. The guard didn’t object this time, and they both smiled at him. Sarah mouthed “thank you” as she left the room.

When Sarah walked in the house, Barney enthusiastically greeted her and little Boots leapt around, trying to keep up with her best friend. It made Sarah laugh to see the two together: Barney, a straggly mutt, and Boots, such a well-groomed and neatly coiffed kitten. She stooped down and hugged Barney while scratching Boots’ ears. “Do you want to go for a quick walk?” she asked Barney. He began running in circles. Remembering his leash, he bounded toward the kitchen and came back dragging the leash with Boots attached to it and hanging on for dear life by her claws. “Wait, Barney. Let me get Boots loose.”

When they returned from their walk, the phone was ringing.

“Mrs. Parker, this is Cornelius Higginbottom calling.”

“Cornelius, I’m surprised to hear from you. Please call me Sarah. We’re all friends, you know.”

“I know. I was just brought up to be more formal than people are these days. Anyway, Sophie wanted me to call you. There’s been an accident.”