The hipster bar looked different from the night he and Cybil had come to it. Even though Ashe, Smalls and Cybil showed up around the traditional happy hour, only a few people milled around in the place. All the lights were on as well. It almost looked cheery, for a bar, Ashe thought. The bartender with a towel tossed over her shoulder came over to them when they sat down in a row at the counter.
“So what can I get for you three? Today’s special is piña coladas,” she said. “I know what you’re thinking: it’s a little early in the year for those. I told the manager that, but he really likes them so we’ve got them on happy hour special.”
“I’ll have one,” Cybil said.
“All right, and you gentlemen?”
“I think I’d just like a Pepsi,” Ashe said, “and a few answers.”
The bartender stopped and gave him the eye. He recognized the look. She didn’t trust him.
“Are you cops?” she asked.
“No,” Smalls said. He unwrapped the scarf he wore from around his neck. It revealed the white tab in his collar. “We’re just some folks who are curious about a band that plays here.”
“As long as you aren’t cops,” she said.
“I come in here all the time. Surely you’ve seen me,” Cybil said.
“Doesn’t mean you’re not some kind of narc.”
“He’s a priest, and I’m an engineering professor. We might be total nerds, but we’re not narcs,” Ashe said. “What do you know about the Goth Sox?”
“Give me a second and let me think.” The bartender walked to the soda machine and dispensed some Pepsi into a glass. She brought it to Ashe. “They suck.”
“We knew that already,” Smalls said. “Can you tell us the next time they’re playing here or if you know where they rehearse?”
“Are you going to drink something or just hassle me?” the bartender asked.
“Whiskey, straight,” Smalls said.
She walked to the area covered with whiskey bottles. “I’ve got no idea on either question.”
“Got any idea who might?” Ashe asked.
She looked him up and down as she handed Smalls his whiskey and started working on Cybil’s piña colada. “The boss might, but he’s not here right now. Before you ask, I don’t know when he’ll be back.”
Ashe drank his warm soda. It had been a waste of time coming back to this place. He hated bars like this. Dives always made him uncomfortable. Cybil got her piña colada. It was white and frothy in a fluted glass. A swizzle straw stuck up from the froth. She sipped from it.
“Maybe we should move to a table to finish our drinks,” Smalls said.
“Fine with me.”
They moved from the bar after Ashe put the drinks on his credit card. He signed a tip to the bartender. She would have gotten more had she given up more information. They sat at a table near the door. Ashe figured they shouldn’t get too involved in the ambiance of the place.
“This is a burnt run,” he said.
“Not really,” Smalls said.
“How is that?” he asked.
“I got a free whiskey.”
Ashe shook his head and took another sip of warm Pepsi. “I got an overpriced warm soda from a surly daylight bartender. I don’t guess you get to say that every day.”
“Fancy running into you guys here.”
Ashe looked up to see Rogers standing at their table. His hair was mussed, and he looked like he’d been sweating. The gray T-shirt he wore had dark places under his arms and at his chest.
“Why are you here?” Smalls asked. “This is certainly not your kind of bar.”
“I called in for my messages. They told me you had stopped by to see me. When I called to find you, Ashe, they told me you were coming here with Peter. I decided to come on down and see what you needed.” He sat in the available chair and waved toward the bartender.
She looked at him and waved back. Rogers let out a laugh and gave her the finger.
“Who told you?” Ashe asked.
“My assistant.” Rogers reached over and took Cybil’s drink from her and took a swig from the glass. “Piña colada.”
“Since when do you have an assistant?” Ashe asked.
“Since I became famous.” Rogers pondered Cybil’s drink again. “A bit early in the year for a piña colada, isn’t it?”
Cybil reached and took her drink back. She looked at it and pushed it back to him. “It was on special. Why don’t you finish it?”
He smiled. “I can handle that. I’m thirsty.” Another swallow went down his gullet. “Been at the gym. I have to start getting in shape for summer.”
Ashe picked his credit card out of his pocket and gave it to Cybil. “Go get yourself something else.” He looked at Rogers guzzling the drink. “Get me something too.”
Cybil got up and walked to the bar. Rogers watched her walk past. He wiped the white froth moustache on his arm and smiled at Ashe.
“I bet that’s fun to hit. How do you get them, Ashe? I mean Marianne and now that bit of freak,” Rogers said.
“You know that he’s a priest, right?” Ashe asked.
“He doesn’t care. He knows a hot piece when he sees one,” Rogers said.
Smalls took a drink from his whiskey. “You just have to deal with some things, like it or not.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about anyway,” Ashe said. “I’m still dealing with what happened to Marianne as well. You’re supposed to be a psychologist and sensitive to that kind of thing.”
“I’m not that kind of psychologist, and I know you’ve been getting it on with her. You told Dean Allred about it. You might as well have put in the newsletter.”
“So what did you come down for, Erik?” Smalls asked.
“To see what you guys wanted. I figured it must be important if you had both come by. I’m not in trouble am I?”
“Are you?” Smalls asked.
“Not that I know of.”
“How is the research going with the engrams?” Ashe asked.
“I’d like for it to be going a little faster and smoother, but I’m in no way in trouble. I’ll have some more publishable stuff soon.”
“Did you get what you wanted when you took my recording?” Ashe asked.
“Oh, yeah that was a great data set. The amplitude of that was amazing. I’ve yet to see engrams like those. I need to record more naturalistic emotional outbursts. Lab-induced just isn’t the same. It’s like canned peaches versus the fresh ones.”
Ashe knew that he was talking about Cybil and Marianne again. He didn’t know why he dealt so much with the scientist. It probably had to do with the fame they were connected by. If Rogers hadn’t come up with the theory and idea of how to record emotional engrams, then he would have never built the recorder. Equally, if Ashe hadn’t been such an electrical engineering genius then Rogers would have never been able to find the evidence he needed to make his law. Ashe saw nothing narcissistic about looking at things that way.
“Erik, there was a strange smell in your office when we came by,” Smalls said. “It kind of smelled like rotten eggs.”
“I’m a bit embarrassed about that,” Rogers said. “I’ve been on this new regimen trying to bulk up muscle so that I can be buff.”
Cybil handed Ashe a beer. She sat down with one as well. Rogers looked at her.
“Don’t stop because of me,” she said.
“I don’t really want to talk about it around a lady,” he said.
“Come on, Erik; it’s not like everyone on campus doesn’t know how you are,” Smalls said. “My students do.”
“Mine too,” Ashe said.
“So I want to get all buff because I’ve picked up so much exposure with this engram thing and women are just throwing themselves at me. I’ve been using this supplemental drink. It’s horrible and gives me wicked gas. That’s what it was.”
“That was some rank gas,” Cybil said. “I assume we’re talking about that smell in your office.”
“That’s why it’s embarrassing. If I wasn’t getting such good results, I would quit using it, but look.”
Rogers pulled the sleeve of his shirt to his shoulder. He flexed his arm. The bicep muscle looked large and defined. Ashe remembered that when he started working with Rogers the psychologist was flabby and didn’t have much muscle tone at all.
“Where did you get that stuff?” Ashe asked. “If it’ll make your arm look like that I might need some.”
Rogers took another drink from the piña colada. “I can’t tell you. It’s not exactly legal in the US.”
Ashe was not surprised, and it explained the smell even better. He’d probably picked up something that was heavily laced with sulfur. Rogers might even be using a product similar to methamphetamine, which sometimes had a heavy sulfur base.
“Was that all you guys wanted to know?” he asked.
“Pretty much,” Smalls said. “I guess we were just concerned because you’ve been losing so much weight. I guess we misinterpreted your weight loss attempt to get sex as stress related.”
“Sex is a great stress reliever,” Rogers said.
“True,” Smalls said.
Ashe looked up at the priest. He noticed that the others had as well.
“I’m a clinical psychologist as well as a priest. I know about stress relievers even if I don’t use them.”
“I’m going to get out of here. I need to get some work done,” Rogers said. “You know it’s weird that you guys hang out here because I met this chick the other day that plays here a lot.”
“She’s in a band?” Cybil asked. “I probably know her. I come here a lot.”
“I don’t remember her name, but she played in some band called the Bobby Socks or Red Sox or something like that.”
“The Goth Sox.” Ashe felt a flush inside him.
“Yeah that’s it. Let me tell you something. Amazing. She had this piercing.” Rogers stopped and looked at Cybil. “I’ll stop there.”
“Do you know where we can find her or the band?” Ashe asked.
“Why? You interested in strange piercings?” Rogers asked.
“We need to ask them some questions. They may be connected with Marianne’s death or disappearance,” Ashe said.
“I’ve got no idea. I had a one-nighter with her and threw her number away. It was good but not getting attached good. Sorry.” Rogers took one more drink to empty the glass. “I’ll catch you later.”
He hurried out of the bar. Smalls finished off his whiskey and stood up.
“I think I’m going to hitch a ride back with him,” Smalls said. “I need do some work on campus as well.”
Ashe nodded. The priest ran after Rogers. Cybil reached over and took him by the hand. Her fingers were cold, probably from holding her beer. He looked into her eyes. She looked innocent. He wished that he hadn’t gotten involved with her. She was in as much danger as he was now.
“He’s a charming guy that Dr. Rogers,” she said.
“He’s a pig.”
“I know that. I’ve known that since the first week I started working in the building.”
“How?”
“He tried to get me to blow him in the copy room the first time we ran into each other.”
“He was probably just joking. He razzes everyone. I don’t think he’s ever heard of sexual harassment.”
Cybil drank from her bottle. “Maybe he was, but he pulled it out and pointed it at me.”
Ashe took a big swig from his beer. Marianne hated Rogers. She always said that he came onto her as many times as he could. He even seemed to remember that his junk slipped out of his running shorts one time when they encountered each other in the library stacks.
“He wouldn’t try anything now. As long as we’re friends, he’ll respect that.” Ashe doubted his own words as soon as they came out.