“There’s an old joke about a guy who walks into a bar and asks for a scotch on the rocks. The bartender puts the drink in front of him and says: ‘That’ll be four bucks.’ The guy gives him four singles. The bartender puts two in the register and two in his pocket. A little later the guy has another drink and again the bartender puts two singles in the register and two in his pocket. On the third round the bartender puts all four dollars in his pocket. The boss comes over and says: What’s the matter, we’re not partners anymore?”
“Are you implying that bartenders are not all honest?”
“Honest as the day is long. Unfortunately they work mostly at night.” He barked out a laugh.
“Is Johnny honest?”
The owner stood behind the bar with a clipboard taking a liquor inventory. Lowell was on a stool, elbows uncomfortably up on the dark-wood countertop. The bar at three in the afternoon was otherwise empty. It struck him that the only thing sadder than a full bar was an empty one.
“Incredibly so. If one of her customers gets a load on and leaves her a lot of money, the next time that person comes in she gives it back to them and tells them to tip her now, while they’re sober.”
“How does that work out for her?’
“A few take the money back and leave a smaller amount. Most of them leave the original tip anyway. But boy, do they appreciate her honesty. Johnny wouldn’t steal anything. If she finds a hundred dollar bill on the floor she’ll wait at least a week to see if anyone claims it before spending it. How many people do you know would do that?”
“Is she good with her own money?”
“Not her own. She spends too much on silly stuff. Sometimes she’s in debt and takes an advance on her salary. But hell, I don’t mind.”
“Still, you trust her.”
“What do you think? This place is my whole life. Everything I have is here. She has keys to the restaurant, my private office, and even has access to the safe, in case I’m not around and there’s an emergency. But Johnny’s a hard girl to figure out. She’s got a mouth that embarrasses cops and firemen, can have a short fuse, especially when she drinks. She’s direct and honest, and expects the same from others. But you sure don’t want to get on her bad side.”
“Why is that?”
“Johnny’s tough. She’s been hurt a lot in her life and she knows how to hurt others. She can defend herself physically or verbally. And I’ve yet to see someone get the better of her when she has the truth on her side.”
“Is the truth important to her?”
“More than anything. If you lie or cheat her or go behind her back she’ll never forgive you. But you can say anything to her face and she’ll take it.”
“How long have you known her?”
“I met Johnny back in ’90, I think, maybe ’91. She had been in New York for about a year crashing on people’s couches. I had a bartender I wanted to get rid of. Although I couldn’t catch him, I knew he was a thief. But he was popular, and I was afraid I’d lose a lot of business if I let him go. One night Johnny walked in and sat at the bar. This guy started acting macho and giving her lip and she let him have it with both barrels. I mean, she chewed him a new one and made some of the regulars see for the first time what a jerk he really was. I liked her right away.”
“When did she start working for you?”
“That very night. I fired him on the spot and the customers convinced me to put Johnny behind the bar. She needed a job, and I figured it wouldn’t hurt to let her work out the night. The bar was slow, mostly regulars. They had to teach her how to make all the drinks. But they really seemed to like her. She learned fast and has been behind my bar ever since.”
“So she has a temper,” said Lowell.
“Oh, yes, but she usually only loses it if she’s been drinking.”
“You don’t mind a bartender who drinks?”
“One Christmas someone gave me a beach towel that said: Seeking honest, sober bartender. Will take either. Drinking is a professional hazard in this business. I’d rather have a bartender who nips a little than one with sticky fingers.”
“Tell me about her temper.”
“Well, one time she hit a guy with a left hook. Knocked him clean off the stool.”
“You didn’t fire her for that?”
“Nope. She was right. He was a real asshole and kept harassing some women. She warned him several times, but he ignored her. Then he reached over the bar and grabbed her tits. That’s when she slugged him. I helped throw the bum out.”
“How about her social life?”
“Johnny? Ha. Her idea of a seductive line is: Wanna fuck?”
“Not subtle?”
“Usually if she’s attracted to a guy at the bar, she just pours him free booze until he’s snockered and then sticks her tongue down his throat.”
“What if he doesn’t respond the way she had hoped?’
“Then he’d better be wearing running shoes.”
“Can she be vengeful?”
“Well, I, that is…”
“It’s okay,” said Lowell. “I’m on her side. I need to know everything I can about her.”
“Well, yes. If you hurt Johnny she’ll probably get you back. But it’s always upfront and in your face. I don’t think she could ever do what they said she did.”
“So you would take her back after this murder business?”
“In a heartbeat. Are you kidding? The customers miss her. I can’t hire anyone else until I know what her situation is. I’m tending bar during the day and put the day guy on at night. I hate it. He hates it. Christ, Johnny works twelve-hour shifts without as much as a complaint.”
The chef stuck his head out of the kitchen. “Hey, Charlie, the meat never showed up today. I got a stew on the dinner menu I’ve got to prepare.”
“All right, Marco, I’ll call the butcher and see what’s keeping it.”
“Tough business,” said Lowell.
“You don’t know the half of it. There’s always a million things to do, and never enough time to do them.”
“So why do you stay in it?”
“I love the people.”
Lowell nodded.
“Bet you haven’t heard this one. A guy walks into an empty bar and orders a scotch on the rocks. The bartender says: ‘I’m so glad you came in.’ He points to a little black and white dog sitting on the bar. ‘This talking dog wandered in an hour ago and it will answer any question you ask it.’ ‘Buddy, just give me my drink, will ya?’ ‘Wait,’ says the bartender, ‘I’ll prove it.’ He turns to the dog. ‘What’s on top of the house?’ The dog says: ‘Roof.’ ‘Buddy, give me my drink.’ ‘Wait, what’s the opposite of smooth?’ The dog says ‘Ruff.’ ‘Look, I can go next door and get my drink.’ ‘Wait, just let me try once more. Who’s the greatest baseball player who ever lived?’ The dog says: ‘Ruth.’ ‘That’s it,’ says that customer and he storms out. The dog looks at the bartender and says: ‘DiMaggio?’”
Lowell chuckled.
“Where else can you hear jokes like that?”
“The borscht belt 1965?”
Charlie shrugged. “A good joke never gets old.”
“Just one more question. How’s business been?”
“Terrible. This has been the worst year since I opened the place in ’85. If I didn’t own the building I’d probably be closed by now, like so many other restaurants. But I’ve got an understanding landlord.”
Lowell got up to leave and reached into his pocket. Charlie shook his head.
“You don’t have to tip the owner. Just tell Johnny that we all miss her and wish her well. And let me know if there anything I can do to help.”