Chapter Twenty-SIX

Jamie walked into Hemingway’s with Cookie on her six and a drink on her mind. She was buoyed by a small sense of relief, something she’d felt precious little of since Brian had first called for help.

The bar was busy, with most of the stools occupied by a combination of local workers. Fishermen were dressed in button-down shirts that had SPF protection and were stained with the day’s work of searching for the top honey holes. More locals were either celebrating being off work or bracing themselves before getting started.

Walking through to the back left of the bar, Jamie was pleased to see that her favorite booth was open, most likely because dirty dishes and glasses covered the majority of the table’s surface. It felt good to be back in their corner booth.

Cookie signaled to Marty, his finger making a circular wave around the dishes in an effort to ask, without words, for the bartender to make the dining wear disappear. Marty left his other bartender to tend to the thirsty flock while he walked over with a smile on his face and a large tray in his hands.

“I was going to have to give this table up soon, so it’s a good thing you made it here.” Marty balanced the tray on the table and used it to transfer the dirty dishes. “A few restaurants in town are without water. Some jackass hit a main line while doing repair work so we’re getting the overflow.”

“Tricky Dick’s one of those places?” Jamie asked, giving him a wink.

“Yep, poor bastard,” he said, smiling the entire time. He looked at Cookie. “You want the usual?”

Her friend nodded. “And throw some extra fries in there, will ya? Starving right now.”

“You know how Cookie gets when he’s hangry,” Jamie joked. “He’s completely unreasonable until you feed him.”

Marty left the pair to their conversation.

Jamie felt a bit lighter, knowing that the journals were in Erin’s safekeeping. Still, the reality that they didn’t know who had killed Kristen remained something that followed her with every step, every inquiry, and every conversation, regardless of who was on the other end of it.

Jamie leaned in across the booth to Cookie, tapping on the table with her forefinger. “You know the next thing that needs to happen after we eat, right?”

Cookie nodded, ready to respond, but was interrupted by Marty’s return with two draft beers. The bartender knew enough to smile, nod, and make himself scarce.

Both Cookie and Jamie took long draws from their beers. Jamie held her own with Cookie, and when the glasses hit the tabletop, the lines were close to even.

He nodded to her glass. “You needed that too?”

“Oh, I could go down that rabbit hole if I’m not careful. You know that.”

“I won’t let you.” The sincerity in Cookie’s eyes was evident.

“I know you won’t.” She reached for her glass but then decided against it for the moment. “As I was saying, you know what we need to do next?”

Cookie took another sip from his beer, swallowed, and smacked his lips. “I know we need to use that burner phone and get Ritchie to meet with us. If he’s telling Marissa that he didn’t do it, then we need to know more about the last time he saw her.”

Marty returned a second time, with burgers and enough fries to feed a Little League team. He had taken Cookie’s plea seriously. Certainly, there would be enough left over for Deuce.

Like Cookie, Jamie could manage her pup’s mood through food. She took a handful of fries and crammed them into her mouth with all the grace of a truck driver. “We’re going to have to hit him heavy, Cookie,” she said between chews. “I think you need to be the one on the other end of the line.”

Cookie took a bite of his hamburger, the two of them working to squeeze words in between bites. “How do you want to play it?” He wiped his hands on his pants.

Jamie grimaced but said nothing. Her table manners were on par with his, so she had no room to judge. “I think we tell him that we hear he’s the one behind Kristen’s death, and unless he wants the cops to come around looking for him, he needs to meet with us and tell us what he knows.”

“You think there’s a chance he’ll drop off the grid if we call him?”

Jamie considered that for a moment. “I don’t think so, not from the description Marissa gave us. This guy is pretty aggressive, brash. I don’t think he’ll bolt. I think he’ll want to bow up and prove he didn’t do anything, especially if he really cared about her.”

“Good point.” Cookie took another bite from his burger, the ketchup running down the side of the bun as he squeezed it to fit in his mouth. Between chews, he added, “I can get him to show up, but you’re going to need to close him. You need to use your relationship with Kristen.”

“Relationship is a stretch, don’t you think?”

Cookie shook his head. “Not if you count intention. I think you would have been close if you’d had more time, been given a second chance.”

Jamie reached for her beer and finished it. “I suppose so, but we don’t all get second chances, do we?”

“Maybe not with her, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get a second chance to do right by her, even if she’s gone. It all still matters.”

Jamie smiled at him but said nothing as she took a turn at her own fries and wiped her hands on a napkin Marty had left on the table. “I’m thinking if we get him on the line, Perry’s Pool Hall is the place to meet him.”

Cookie smiled at her suggestion. “Perfect. Let’s finish up and get him on the phone. It’s time to shake this tree and see what falls.”