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The Lucky Pub, Albuquerque, New Mexico
Friday, October 25th, Noon Local Time
I found it quite ingenious to name a bar the Lucky Pub. It held out such promise to its patrons, but it had failed Wise six months ago. Before that, it was possible that Wise had met up with women there on numerous occasions. We knew from the file that Wise had frequented the pub, but that fact hadn’t gotten Bell anywhere closer to finding the shooter. Bell might have wished us good luck, but I don’t think he believed we’d have any. If for that reason alone, I’d love to prove him wrong.
It was around noon when we entered the Lucky Pub, and there was a lunch crowd.
“We’ll get a table, grab something to eat, and then tend to business,” Paige suggested.
I nodded, agreeing with her strategy. A full stomach aided focus, and we needed as much of that as possible. The added benefit to being a customer first was we’d set ourselves on the server’s and management’s good side. It would be harder to turn us away if we’d just paid for a meal.
A hostess saw us to a booth in a far corner, and I took the spot that had my back to the kitchen door and me facing the dining room. Most of the tables near us were occupied, but the people’s conversations couldn’t be heard due to the music coming over the speakers. This table would be a good place to talk about the case without fear of being overheard.
“Here you go. Your waitress will be here soon.” The hostess handed us laminated menus with drinks and appetizers on one side and entrees on the back—all of which read as comfort fare. Maybe an empty stomach would be better than scarfing down a piece of cottage pie or a serving of macaroni and cheese. It was bad enough that I ate pizza at midnight last night and hadn’t hit a gym since leaving home yesterday morning.
A smiling waitress came to our table. Her name tag read PENELOPE. “Can I get either of you started with a drink?” She slapped down coasters in front of us.
“I’ll have a water,” I said.
“Bottle or tap?”
“Tap’s fine.”
Penelope nodded and looked at Paige.
“I’ll have an iced tea.”
“Sweetened or unsweetened?”
“Unsweetened, please.”
“I’ll be right back with that and to take your meal orders.”
Paige read the menu and toyed with the edge of the brown newsprint that was spread over a plastic tablecloth.
The place was a dive with an outdated and unclean feeling. Surfaces were coated in a thin layer of grime that was tacky to the touch. I looked up, and the grates in the ceiling vent had fur.
Yuck. What had ever attracted Wise to this place?
I flipped my menu, and there was something sticky on the backside. Sticky backside…yummy thought.
I snatched a napkin from the holder on the table and tried to wipe off whatever it was, but the paper stuck to the menu.
Paige’s head was still in hers, studying it with such scrutiny she could have been cramming for a test.
Glancing back at mine, I saw Cobb salad, figured it was probably one of the healthiest choices here, and dropped the menu.
Penelope returned with our drinks, poured into glasses that had been etched by many trips through a dishwasher. “Ready to order?” She held a pen poised over a notepad and looked at me.
“I’ll have the Cobb salad.”
“Dressing?”
“Balsamic?” It came out sounding like a question, but I didn’t eat Cobb salad much and wasn’t sure what to pair with it. Balsamic was my favorite dressing, and I didn’t think I could go wrong with it.
“Consider it done. And you?” Penelope addressed Paige, but my partner kept her eyes on the menu while biting her bottom lip.
“Paige,” I prompted.
“Um, a-yeah, I’ll have the same but with traditional Cobb dressing.”
“Coming up.” Penelope collected the menus and left.
Paige took a sugar packet out of a small bowl that was on the table and tore it open. She dumped the sugar into her iced tea.
“I thought you wanted it unsweetened?” I smiled and raised my brows.
“I do, but I like it with just one sugar pack.” Paige looked around us, then met my eyes. “This is quite a dive.”
“Was just thinking the same thing.”
Silence settled between us with the comfort of a scratchy wool blanket.
Paige’s phone rang, and she answered quickly. “Just a minute,” she told her caller. To me, she said, “It’s Nadia. I’ll have to step outside to hear her.” She set off for the front doors.
I watched after her, hating that I still harbored feelings for her, about our past. Shouldn’t the fact our affair was long over make it easier to release and move forward? It was just this case messing with my head, had to be.
I drained back most of my water, and Penelope came around and topped it up. She left to tend to her other tables, and my gaze settled on a couple in their forties. They were leaned across their table, talking to each other as if they harbored a secret. They held hands under the table, and the way the woman kept laughing and tossing her hair back told me they were lovers. He was wearing a wedding band, and she wasn’t.
I turned away, the guilt working to set down roots. Ridiculous. I had nothing to feel guilty about. Besides, as far as I knew, Deb had never found out about Paige and me—but did that make what I had done okay? Maybe if I came clean with my ex and apologized, I’d feel better in some way, but what did I really hope to accomplish? Telling her would only hurt her unnecessarily. No, these feelings were something I had to deal with on my own. I looked down at my water and wished for something much stronger.
“Nadia doesn’t have anything for us on the VA-hospital front.” Paige slipped back into the booth across from me.
“Well, we both knew that was a reach.” The way her face fell, I’d say she’d held out hope for a far more optimistic outcome than I had.
Paige continued. “She said the number of military personnel discharged from service suffering from PTSD is at an all-time high. No way for her to narrow that down with what we have—which isn’t much. I think we need to let go of the VA hospitals and focus on the Mavises.”
“The people whose credit card information was stolen?”
“Yeah. I had Nadia do a quick check, and the Mavises are from Bridgeport, California and Wise’s widow said that they were from Walker, California. Turns out both towns are in Mono County and within half an hour of each other.”
“Okay, but we don’t even know if California ties into our sniper. What you’ve mentioned could be nothing more than a coincidence. Bell said that the credit card itself wasn’t stolen, so our sniper never had to set foot in California.”
“But the Wises were from there,” Paige stressed. “And I’m pretty sure our sniper was.”
“Why? Because of some credit card information that could have been stolen from online or over the phone? And tell me this, why would the sniper use a card that might lead us to her?”
Paige took a sip of her iced tea. “Well, it didn’t lead Bell to her.”
“Burn.”
She smiled. “Seriously, there are a couple of reasons the unsub would leave a trail. The sniper could get a rush from the chase, or they are trying to tell us something.”
“But what?” My mind was trying to piece together a motive here but was falling short. Maybe we needed more background on the Mavises and Wise before anything coherent would stitch together. “Did you find out anything more about the transaction history on the Mavises’ card?” I’d cave a little to please Paige. She seemed excited about the California lead.
“Uh-huh.” She leaned across the table. “I found out from Nadia the last charge before the fraud came to light was made at the Sunset Diner, and apparently the Mavises frequented the place. I think our sniper gained access to the Mavises’ credit card there.”
Maybe I’d given her too much rope, because now it felt like she was reaching. “So the sniper worked there?”
Paige sat back and hitched her shoulders. “It’s possible.”
“If she held a job, then she’d have to be mentally stable. She might not have PTSD.”
“Or she has lucid moments, when she’s perfectly fine. There may be times when she’s getting treatment and times when she’s not.”
I bobbed my head side to side.
“Anyway, before I forget to tell you, Jack called. I let him and Kelly know about my suspicions that this might link back to California, and he told me that Marsha Doyle’s body was found in her apartment.”
“I wish I could say that surprises me. How was she killed?”
Penelope shadowed the table, and stood there, motionless, holding our two salads and staring at me with her mouth slightly agape.
I plastered on a smile. “We’re talking about this show we binge on Netflix.”
Penelope set our food down in front of us and walked away without saying a word.
“Oops,” I said to Paige.
Paige was smiling and lifted up her fork. “Let’s hurry and eat up. We have work to do.”
“I’m good with that.” I hated it when meals dragged on. As I ate, I thought about the killer we hunted. They might love the chase, but so did I. Even better was the catch.