Elmo’s Bar
You Can’t Go Lower Than Here
Vera pushed the door open. Inside, the place was dimly lit and, despite being well before sundown, half the seats were occupied. The patrons looked to be mostly sailors and stevedores, along with several folks whose occupations were unclear (or possibly nonexistent). Eyes raised to survey Vera as she entered. Some of the conversation shifted to tones of curiosity, but no one said anything to her. She walked up to the bar and snagged an empty seat.
A muskrat serving behind the counter swiped a rag across the wooden bar and asked, “What’ll it be, duchess?”
“Have you got any Cold Clay Spiked Cider?”
He nodded in cautious approval. “Coming right up.”
Vera watched as the muskrat drew a glass of hard cider from the tap. He placed the glass in front of Vera. She took a long drink and smiled. “Perfect. I wondered why you want your customers to walk all those steps outside, but now I figure it’s because they get so thirsty on the way down.”
The bartender chuckled. “Got it in one.” He reached under the bar and pulled out a small, shallow basket filled with salty peanuts. “Here you go. Just in case the stairs didn’t get you thirsty enough. Fan of cider, are you?”
“I like Cold Clay Orchard’s. I’m from Shady Hollow,” she added.
“Supporting your local brew then.” He nodded. “Excellent. I’m Elmo, by the way. Just holler if you need a refill.”
The muskrat moved farther down the bar to serve more drinks to another customer. Vera sipped her drink and nibbled on the bar nuts, which were not just salty, but also seasoned with an herby mix of flavors: chives, thyme, pepper, and a hint of rosemary. It was surprisingly addictive, and Vera could imagine ordering more drinks to complement the taste.
A creature slid into a seat next to her. She looked over to see a black rat, holding a half-full beer, and examining her with an intelligent, watchful gaze.
“Bit early for a refill,” Vera noted easily.
“Give me a minute and it won’t be,” the rat responded, just as easily. “But I’m more interested in meeting a new face. Haven’t seen you around town.”
“I’m visiting,” Vera said. “My name’s Vera, and I’m a reporter with the Shady Hollow Herald. I’m here for a story. And what’s your name?”
“Benny.” The rat looked intrigued. “Story, huh. What about?”
“I’m looking for information about a rat named Thomas Springfield.”
“You’re a little late, then. He took a dive a few years ago.”
“So I heard. Did you know him?”
The rat wrinkled his nose. “Sad to say I did. He was a steady fixture here, actually. He didn’t work the water, not on a boat or on the shore, but he sure did like the atmosphere. Talked up a storm about this and that and how he was the smartest rat in the room. Huh. If he was so smart, how’d he get so dead?”
“Tragic accident?” Vera suggested.
Benny laughed. “If you want to call falling off the bluff with your limbs bound an accident, sure.”
“I hear he knew Big Eddie,” Vera added, more quietly.
“Best not to bring that name up,” the rat cautioned. “That’s attention you don’t want. You’d never live long enough to write any story for your Herald. Hell, you wouldn’t make it back to the boat.”
“He’s that dangerous?”
Benny glanced over Vera’s shoulder. “Don’t turn your head now, but if you did, you’d see half a dozen of Big Eddie’s gang. They’ve been watching you since you walked in. And not just because they like your looks.” He grinned then. “Though there’s nothing wrong with your looks.”
“Why, thank you,” Vera said with a laugh. “Tell me, did Thomas Springfield chat with those folks when he hung out here?”
“Often enough, until the end. He avoided this place for the last few weeks of his life, since they wanted to chat with him, if you take my meaning. But in happier days, sure. He’d nurse a drink all night and cram a whole pound of those bar snacks in his mug. Poor Elmo—the snacks are free, but everyone knows it’s rude to take more than their share.”
“But Thomas didn’t know that?”
“Old Tom didn’t care,” Benny said, spitting on the floor. “That rat deserved what he got. Vicious through and through.”
Vera finished her drink, and Benny offered to walk her back up to the main street. “Not that Eddie’s gang would do anything, but don’t give ’em ideas, huh?”
Thinking of the mysterious figure that landed her in a pit earlier, Vera agreed that an early exit would be best. She paid her tab to Elmo and allowed Benny to escort her all the way back to the Highbank Hideaway.
Benny whistled. “Huh. Nice digs, I hear. And Kitty sure can cook. Maybe I should have been a reporter instead of a stevedore!”
With a smile, Vera thanked him for the information and the walk. “I’m leaving for Shady Hollow tomorrow. Looks like my trip here didn’t tell me what I wanted to know.”
“Some things are better left buried,” Benny said, with no idea of how closely his phrase hit. “You have a safe journey home, Miss Vera.”
“Good night, Benny,” she said, waving as she stepped inside the bed-and-breakfast. The trip hadn’t been totally in vain, but she still had more questions than answers. Alas, it seemed that more poking around into Big Eddie’s business might be bad for her health. A few years ago, Vera would have plunged right in, heedless of the consequences. But she was a little older and wiser now, she hoped. And she had a firm cap of one life-threatening situation a week. The last thing she wanted was to get tossed over a bluff by Big Eddie or his goons.
Her room had been turned down for the night once more, and she looked at the big, fluffy bed with delight. A few moments later, she was snuggled down under the comforter.
“I’ll just close my eyes for a second,” she said. “Then I’ll go
