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Back at her apartment, Kat was seized by a restlessness she couldn’t shake. Cleaning seemed like the best outlet for her energy, so she donned a pair of rubber gloves and got down to work.
Tom, Kat’s brown-and-black cat, and Matty watched her with an intensity they normally reserved for birds, bugs, and rodents. They seemed fascinated by all of the scrubbing and scouring, sweeping and mopping. Kat wasn’t sure whether to feel insulted or amused. Granted, she wasn’t the best housekeeper, but it wasn’t as if the animals had never seen her holding a scrub brush before.
By early evening she was exhausted. She flopped onto the couch and turned on the television, but she couldn’t locate a single program that snagged her interest. She must have flicked through every channel before she finally gave up.
Try as she might, she couldn’t shake thoughts of Savannah Newton from her head.
She tossed the remote control aside with a sigh, garnering a curious look from Matty. The tortoiseshell couldn’t seem to figure out what was up with her human.
“It’s this Savannah Newton murder,” Kat told the tortoiseshell. “It’s really bugging me.”
Tom, the more talkative of the two cats by far, meowed in commiseration before he crawled into Kat’s lap and offered her a few supporting head bumps.
Kat rubbed him between his ears. “Be thankful you’d rather stay inside than wear a harness, Tommy. Today’s park outing is not an experience I care to repeat anytime soon.”
Matty stood up from where she was lying on the other end of the couch. With an exaggerated stretch, she took one step closer to Kat before collapsing from the exertion.
Kat reached a hand toward the tortoiseshell. “Are you as troubled by what happened to Savannah as I am, baby girl?”
Matty’s gaze drifted toward the front door as she rubbed her cheek against Kat’s fingers.
“I’m not taking you outside again.” Kat paused, wondering if she’d misinterpreted the tortoiseshell’s look. “Or are you thinking I should pay a visit to D Place?”
Matty smacked her lips, her pink tongue swiping at her whiskers.
“I suppose I could pretend to be there for the food.”
Tom perked up at the word food. He swiveled his head toward the kitchen, his tail thwacking in anticipation.
Kat slid Tom off of her lap and stood up. “All right, you guys have convinced me. D Place it is. Best case, I’ll learn something that will help to nail Savannah’s killer. Worst case, I’ll come home with nothing to show for my efforts except a full stomach. Sounds like a win-win to me.”
While Kat put on her sneakers, Tom watched her with hopeful eyes. Despite her obvious intention to go out, he apparently wasn’t ready to give up the notion of being served an unscheduled meal.
Kat finished lacing up before bestowing a few goodbye pats upon the felines. “I’ll tell you what. Three treats each when I get back. And if I learn anything relevant to Savannah’s death I’ll bump that up to five.”
That seemed to satisfy Tom. He tucked his paws beneath his body and settled down for a nap.
Fifteen minutes later, Kat had made the drive to D Place and was walking into the bar-slash-restaurant. As she perched on an empty barstool at the counter, she took stock of her surroundings. The place was as seedy as Willow had suggested. Scarred wooden tables and beat-up chairs were scattered about the dimly lit dining area. A couple of dirty pool tables in the corner were available for the patrons who needed something physical to do. Those who preferred to remain seated had the option of watching one of the sporting events airing on half a dozen televisions mounted on the brown paneled walls. Kat didn’t want to know how many stains were camouflaged by those walls.
The place might have been dingy, but the owners had to be doing something right. Along with the country music piping through the speakers, the room was filled with conversation, laughter, and people. D Place certainly didn’t appear to be hurting for business, at least not on this particular Saturday night.
A tall, slim brunette in her early to mid-twenties grabbed a pitcher of beer off the bar counter and made her way across the room. Dressed in blue jeans, a button-up shirt knotted at her waist, and a half apron, the brunette carried the pitcher over to a table occupied by three rugged men. She was smiling as she approached the trio, but Kat noticed her expression didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Kat studied the group, wondering if one of them might be responsible for Savannah Newton’s death. Her murder certainly hadn’t put a damper on their mood. They kept chortling and slapping one another on the back as if they didn’t have a care in the world.
Then again, maybe they didn’t even know about Savannah’s death. None of the television sets were tuned in to the news, and Kat doubted D Place’s employees felt compelled to spread the word. This was where people came to shake off their worries, not hear about crime happening practically in their own backyards.
“What can I getcha?”
Kat turned to see a short, stocky, fiftyish man grinning at her from the other side of the counter. Streaks of gray cut through his dark hair and goatee, but other than that he’d aged well.
“Do you serve iced tea?” Kat asked him.
“Long Island?”
“Um, no.”
The corners of the bartender’s lips twitched. “Yeah, we’ve got iced tea. Brewed special for our designated drivers. You want anything else?”
Kat hadn’t had time to look at the menu yet. She eyed what the people around her were eating. “Maybe some fries.”
“Coming right up.”
He punched a few buttons on an electronic register, then disappeared around the corner. Less than a minute later he returned with a basket of French fries in one hand and a glass of iced tea in the other.
“That was fast,” Kat said as he set the items in front of her.
“We don’t waste time around here.” He winked. “We’ve got a need for speed.”
Apparently they were willing to sacrifice trivial things like food quality to fulfill that need, too. Kat only had to glance at the basket of limp French fries to conclude they weren’t going to satisfy her appetite. They obviously had been cooked quite some time ago and left to languish underneath a heating lamp.
“The name’s Declan,” the man said as he took a step away. “Holler if you need anything else.”
Kat paused mid-bite, half of a cold French fry hanging out of her mouth. “Declan? As in Declan O’Connor, the owner of D Place?”
He saluted her. “Guilty as charged.”
He hurried away before she could say anything more. She made a concerted effort to choke down a few French fries while she waited for him to fill some drink orders. Luckily his need for speed applied to beverages as well as food. Pretty soon he was standing in front of her again, a lopsided slant to his mouth.
“Those not up to your standards?” he asked, nodding at the French fry in her hand.
Kat let the fry fall back into the basket. “Oh, no, they’re fine.”
“Most people prefer the onion rings. I’m happy to bring you an order of those instead.”
“I’m fine, really. Just not all that hungry.”
Declan didn’t seem to believe her, but he merely shrugged. Kat was glad. The last thing she wanted to do was alienate him by insulting his food. She was hoping he’d give her some insight into Savannah Newton’s life.
She plucked a napkin off of a stack near the edge of the bar counter and used it to scrub the grease off of her fingers. “I heard one of your waitresses was that woman found in the park this afternoon.”
Declan tugged on his goatee. “Yeah. Savannah. Good kid.”
“I also heard she was working here last night.”
“Yeah, she was. So was I. And I’ll tell you the same thing I told the police earlier. I left before she did. Didn’t see anything suspicious. Didn’t hear anything suspicious. Had no reason to think she’d be dead by morning.”
Kat looked across the room, where the tall brunette waitress stood talking to a new group of guys. One of them had opted not to sit, and every time the waitress took a step backward he inched forward, crowding into her personal space.
Declan had yet to glance in the waitress’s direction. His inattention led Kat to suspect he probably wouldn’t have noticed an inappropriate pass made by one of his patrons toward Savannah Newton either.
Declan said, “If you’re worried about your safety, I’d be happy to escort you to your vehicle when you’re ready to leave.”
Was he trying to get rid of her? Kat couldn’t tell.
“I’m fine,” she said. “I was merely curious.”
“She closed up last night too.”
Kat felt as if she’d missed a key part of the conversation. “Savannah?”
“Junie.” Declan jerked his chin in the direction of the brunette. “The girl you’re staring at over there.”
Kat gave a little start. Junie Tennant. The woman who had put in the adoption application for Griffin.
“Junie and Savannah, they weren’t real fond of each other,” Declan said. “And yesterday they were particularly snippy.”
“Why’s that?”
“Who knows? I’m not one to poke my nose in my employees’ drama. I didn’t ask, and they didn’t say.”
So maybe Declan wasn’t that oblivious after all. Maybe he simply preferred to remain hands-off.
Junie disappeared into the back, where Kat presumed the kitchen was located. Her shoulders were hunched, and her gait was lethargic. It was hard to picture this worn-out woman taking the life of another, but Kat would be foolish to dismiss her as a suspect simply because she was tired.
“What I can tell you,” Declan said, “is there was always some friction between those two. Their personalities just seemed to rub each other the wrong way.”
Kat wondered if that friction could have led to murder. She hoped not. The thought of turning a friendly, guileless house cat over to a killer made her stomach roil so violently she had to struggle to keep the handful of greasy French fries she’d stuffed down her throat from coming back up.
“I wouldn’t worry too much about Junie,” Declan said. “If she killed Savannah, it was a one-off. I doubt you or anyone else in here is in danger.”
Kat wasn’t sure if he meant for his words to be comforting, but they weren’t helping to abate her growing feeling of nausea.
Declan grabbed a rag from somewhere underneath the counter and began wiping down the bar. “I know this for a fact though. I’m gonna miss having Savannah around. She was one of a kind, that one. Whatever went down last night, I hope the police get to the bottom of it. And soon.”
Kat sure hoped so too.
