We reached Sparky’s at twelve fifteen and walked in. The bar was much darker than the outdoor natural light, and it took a few seconds for our eyes to adjust. Music played but at a much lower volume than it did at night. Two men sat at the bar and three couples at the tables. On weekend nights, people were lucky to find a seat at all.
Rue and I bellied up to the bar. Since we were on duty, we would have to limit our beverages to the nonalcoholic type.
“Hey, T. J. How’s it going?” I asked.
With a towel draped over his shoulder, the bartender headed our way then placed two coasters in front of us. “Good as anyone could expect on a Sunday.” He tipped his wrist and grinned. “Since it’s only fifteen minutes into my shift and I get off at four.” He looked from Rue to me. “How’s it hanging at Habersham?”
I shrugged. “Same shit different day.”
“Yeah, you two don’t always work on Sunday. What brings you to the precinct on your day off?”
I groaned. “What do you think? We are homicide detectives.”
“Yeah, that sucks. So what can I get you?”
“Information,” I said.
T. J. looked puzzled. “Information?”
“Yep. Apparently, the young lady who was murdered closed Sparky’s on Friday night. That was the last time she was seen alive.”
“No shit?”
“No shit. We need to know who was working that night and if they witnessed anyone with the woman in question. We’ll need to see the indoor and outdoor camera footage from that night too.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll get George.”
“T. J.?”
“Yep?”
“Were you working then? Maybe you know the girl.”
“No, I had Friday night off. I couldn’t even tell you who was scheduled then, but George can. I’ll be right back. Wait, let me get you something on the house. A couple of sodas?”
“Thanks. That’d be great,” I said.
With two sodas sitting on the coasters in front of us, we waited as T. J. headed to the office to get George, the weekend manager.
Minutes later, a slender middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and glasses headed our way. T. J. returned to the bar, where he refilled the Bloody Marys the customers next to us were drinking.
“What can I help you with, Detectives?” George reached out and shook our hands.
I asked if we could speak to him privately, and he tipped his head toward the office. We gulped down our sodas and followed him.
“Have a seat, guys.” He closed the door at our backs. George rounded the desk and sat with his hands folded.
I began. “The body of a twenty-three-year-old woman was found early this morning by a fisherman along the banks of the Odingsell River.”
“That’s terrible news, but how can I help?”
“She was last seen alive leaving here on Friday night. Saturday morning, she hadn’t returned home, and her ticketed car was parked along Whitaker Street. Her folks filled out an official missing person report last night after confirming that she wasn’t with any of her friends. Just by pure luck, that fisherman saw her leg through the marsh grass and called 911. She could have been lost forever in the elements like that with the weather and wild animals.”
George shook his head. “So because her car was ticketed on Whitaker, you’re assuming something happened to her between Sparky’s and her car?”
“We know so. We’ve already interviewed one of the two young ladies she was with Friday night. They closed the bar together and each headed back to their individual cars. That dead girl never made it to her car. In that four blocks between Sparky’s and her vehicle, she disappeared. We’ll need to speak with every employee who worked that night and see the bar’s camera footage from inside and out.”
“Sure, whatever you need.” George jiggled the computer mouse to his right then began tapping keys. “I’m pulling up the list of staff who worked Friday night until closing and will print it out for you.”
“Appreciate it,” Rue said. “We’ll need their phone numbers too.”
George nodded. “I’ll add them to the sheet I’m printing.”
Seconds later, the printer at his back hummed. The sheet printed, and he placed it on his desk.
George tapped the keys again, I assumed to pull up the entire staff’s contact information, then he wrote down phone numbers of the twelve people who’d worked Friday night. He slid the sheet across the desk to me.
“The ones I put the stars next to waited on the customers. The others are cooks or dishwashers and don’t have any interaction with them.”
“Got it. That’s very helpful,” I said. “Now, we need to see the footage from midnight to closing. Indoors as well as outside if you have both.”
“Yep, give me just a minute to set those parameters.”
We waited as George made the adjustments for the day and time.
“You want to start with the indoor cameras?”
“Sure,” I said. “How many do you have?”
“Four.”
I raised my index finger. “Give me just a second. I need to make a call.” I checked my notepad for Sherry’s number and called her. “Sherry, it’s Detective Cannon. I need to know where you girls were standing or sitting at Sparky’s. Were you at a table, the bar, or where? Also, what was Val wearing with those black high heels?”
“She had on black leggings and a wispy long-sleeved top with tiny flowers on it.”
“Great, and where were you in the building?”
“We stood at the left side of the bar. There wasn’t anywhere to sit, and it’s closer to the bathrooms there.”
“Okay, thanks.” I ended the call and repeated that information to George. “The girls were on the left side of the bar.”
“Sure, and that’s camera two.” With the correct camera, date, and time set up, George turned the laptop toward us and went about his business.
Within a few minutes, the three girls came into frame. It appeared that they’d just arrived. I checked the time on the footage, 12:17, and Rue wrote that down.
The noise level was high, so we couldn’t hear the communication between the girls, but it was obvious that they ordered drinks as soon as they got the attention of the bartender. I paused the footage and asked George who that bartender was. I spun the laptop, and he took a look.
“That’s Gary Carson, and the other bartender is Beth Myers. They both worked until closing.”
“Behind the bar the entire time?”
“Yes, bartending for the whole shift.”
“Thanks.” I turned the laptop back and waited for Rue to write down the names of the bartenders, then we continued watching. There was talk between the girls and several other customers but nothing that seemed to irritate anyone—just casual chat as people walked by. I kept my voice lowered as Rue and I discussed what we were watching. “I don’t see any guys coming on to them or being a nuisance. Looks like a fun night out and nothing more.”
Rue agreed. “They’re buying all their own drinks too. Let’s speed through some of this and get closer to bar-closing time. That’ll show us if they walked out alone or with some guys.”
“True, but Sherry never mentioned leaving with any guys.”
Rue shrugged. “People forget or lie. Cameras don’t.”
“Good point.” I fast-forwarded the video until it was near bar closing. At that point, I set it back to normal speed. We saw Sherry sitting on a barstool while the other two women continued to stand. I imagined they might have taken turns on that stool since no others were available.
“Looks like it’s that time. The lights just went on, and the bartenders are yelling out ‘last call,”’ Rue said.
I pointed at the screen. “There, the girls are leaving.” I noted the time again—1:53 a.m. I tipped my head at George. “Okay, can we see the outdoor camera from one fifty a.m. on?”
“Sure.”
I turned the computer toward him so he could make the adjustments, which took only a few seconds.
“Here you go. It’s ready whenever you are. Just hit Play.”
I did, and the video started. People were exiting the bar, talking on the sidewalk, making plans, and heading off. Nobody in the immediate area seemed to be standing off to the side and watching people as they left. Actually, I didn’t see anyone outside until Sparky’s doors opened and people flooded out. It took several minutes before the girls showed up on the footage. They stood off to the side, talked for a bit, hugged, and each went their own way. Valerie was the only one of the three who walked east. No guys were with them, and nobody appeared to be following her, only people going in the same direction, likely to their cars.
I groaned out a disappointed sigh. I didn’t know what I’d been expecting, but I didn’t see anything that would help us from the footage inside and in front of Sparky’s.
According to George, neither Gary Carson nor Beth Myers was scheduled to work that day. We would stop at their homes and interview each of them before returning to the precinct to see if they’d overheard anything or were part of a discussion with the girls.
Tomorrow, we planned to check all the camera locations along Valerie’s walk to her car. Someone with ill intentions might have popped out of a dark alley or doorway after she turned onto Whitaker. It was unlikely that other Sparky’s customers had walked that far back to their vehicles, making her an easy and singular target.
Rue read off Beth’s address while I drove. I shook my head as I recalled my thoughts from minutes earlier. “That won’t work.”
Rue frowned. “What won’t work?”
“My thoughts of someone popping out of an alley and snatching up Valerie. An opportunist looking for easy prey.”
“Go on.”
“Well, where would he have taken her? Would he drag her down the sidewalk to his possible apartment above a store while she kicked and screamed?” I asked.
Rue frowned. “Right. That’s highly unlikely. What if it was a team effort? He snatched her and had someone waiting in the wings with a vehicle. It would be a tough task for one person to pull over, grab someone off the sidewalk, and drag them to their car without her biting, kicking, and yelling for help.”
“Unless he tased her or knocked her unconscious first.”
“That’s a possibility too.” Rue checked the time. “Maybe Tapper has some initial information for us. Valerie has been on the table for over an hour.”