“Jean.” The waitress shook both their hands. “I haven’t seen you’s here before. You from Seattle or just visiting?”
“We’re locals,” Morris said. “I don’t get down this way much. I live on the East Side.”
“So you’re slumming it.” Jean chuckled. “What, they don’t have pubs on the East Side?”
“Hey, Jean,” Jerry said, pulling out the picture of Sheila. “You ever seen this woman?”
Jean picked up the photo and dug into her apron pocket for her glasses. “I knew you guys was cops.”
Jerry laughed. “I’m retired. I work for myself now. This guy’s my client, and we’re looking for his fiancee. She went missing two weeks ago.”
Jean stood with the photo under one of the small halogen lights illuminating the bar, examining the picture closely. “Yeah, I’ve seen her before,” she said, her eyes crinkled in concentration. “Buncha times. She comes in here a coupla times a month. Always gets the same thing-mushroom-Swiss, Diet Coke. Seemed nice enough.”
“Was she here two weeks ago?”
Jean’s face scrunched up. “Yeah, she was.”
“You sound certain.”
The waitress looked uncomfortable as she passed the photo back. “Well, I remember ’cause she came in at her usual time, but instead of sitting alone like she usually does, she met someone. He came in a little later, went right to her table.”
“What’d he look like?” Morris’s hand tightened around his beer glass.
“I don’t know. It was dark. My eyes ain’t what they used to be.”
“Try and think.” He couldn’t keep the impatience out of his voice. Jerry shot him a look.
The woman bristled. “Well, now, I don’t know if I want to. Not if it’s gonna get her in trouble.”
“Jean, she’s missing.” Jerry’s voice was calm. “Anything you can tell us would be helpful. We’re trying to make sure nothing bad happened to her.”
Jean leaned over the bar toward them, focusing on Morris. “Look, it’s not any of my business what kind of relationship you’s two were in. I’m not one to judge. But this woman you’re looking for, your fiancee, she wasn’t acting like a woman about to get married. They sat right there.” Jean pointed to the table in the center-most part of the pub. “And they were close. Leaning into each other, smiling. I served them. He was a real good-looking guy.” She gave a description that matched the one Fisher had given them. “He wasn’t from around here. He had some kind of accent.”
“Like he wasn’t from Seattle?”
“Like he wasn’t from the USA.”
Morris’s stomach burned. “Did they leave together?”
Jean’s wrinkled face was sympathetic. “Yeah,” she said finally. “They left together. He was kind of touching her elbow, and he was limping a little. She looked tipsy, even though she wasn’t drinking. I figured she was giddy ’cause she’d snagged such a handsome guy.” Jean’s lips tightened. “Truth be told, I was a little jealous.”
“How’d they pay?” Jerry asked.
“Cash, I’m pretty sure. Separate checks,” she said to Morris, as if it would make him feel better.
“This place have a security camera?”
The waitress guffawed. “You’re funny.”
“Any chance you saw what he was driving?”
“Sorry.” She looked around and lowered her voice. “So, what, you boys think this guy did something to her?”
Morris said nothing.
Jerry shrugged. “No idea. We’ll have to find him and ask him. What about a name? Did you hear her call him anything?”
“No, but he told me himself his name was Jack. Or James.” Jean paused, thinking. “Or was it Jason?”
Jerry watched her, his pen poised over his notebook.
Finally she said, “I think it was James, but I’m not a hundred percent.” A bell dinged from somewhere behind her and she straightened up. “That’s your food. Be right back.”
Morris took a long sip of his beer, suddenly wishing he hadn’t come. Maybe it was better to let Jerry handle everything. The private investigator would have filtered this information for him. Right now it was almost too real. Raw.
Jean came back with their order.
“So you didn’t see them drive off together, did you?” Morris said, pouncing on her again. “It’s possible she got into her own car and left separately?”
“I didn’t see what happened when they got to the parking lot.” Jean was beginning to sound exasperated. “But, guys, I work in a bar. I have for most of my life. You think I can’t tell when two people hook up?” She looked at Morris. “I’m sorry. Just telling you what I saw.”
“You okay?” Jerry asked when she walked away.
Morris looked down at his food. “What do you think?”
They dug into their meals. The burger was decent.
“Listen. I think we’re at a bit of a dead end here.” Jerry took a long sip of his beer. “Unless Fisher’s found out something from the other SAA members, we don’t have anything to go on.”
“What are the chances that somebody from SAA would remember someone’s license plate number from two weeks ago?”
Jerry munched on a fry. “Stranger things have happened. We could get lucky. But it’s not likely.”
“What now?”
“I’ll talk to her TA tomorrow, Ethan Wolfe, the one she seemed… close to.” Jerry picked up another fry. He was choosing his words carefully. “He might know something. And Torrance ran her credit cards when he was investigating-I have a contact who can do it again for me. If she’s used them in the last couple of days, we can track her that way.”
Morris didn’t reply, and they finished their food in silence. When they were done, Jerry paid the check.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Morris said as they walked out.
“Don’t worry, you’ll see it expensed in my invoice.”
Morris chuckled, though he doubted Jerry was joking. “What are you doing now? Maybe we should talk to Ethan Wolfe tonight.”
“Nah, I’ll catch him first thing in the morning,” Jerry said. “I don’t want you there, anyway. I’ll call you if I learn anything interesting. For now, go home and rest. Enough excitement for one day.”
Morris stopped when they reached their cars. “What if she’s dead?” he said quietly. The wind was chilly and he shivered under the pale light of the parking-lot lamppost. “What if she had some kind of blackout or breakdown and she’s lying dead in a ditch somewhere?”
“Don’t think that.” Jerry looked at Morris sharply. “You keep that shit out of your head. It won’t help you, trust me. Right now the best thing you can do is stay positive. Remember, Torrance might still be right. In which case, we’ll find her, and you can ask her yourself what the hell she was thinking.” Jerry clapped Morris on the shoulder, then climbed into his Honda and slammed the door shut.
“I don’t know if I want to know,” Morris said after the PI drove away.
CHAPTER 30
J erry sat in the parking lot of the university’s psychology building. The interior of his Honda Accord still smelled like cigarette smoke from the guy he’d bought it off last year, and Jerry’s wife refused to ride in it. Which was fine, since he only used the ten-year-old car for work, anyway. Jerry’s real car, a Nissan Infinity G37 coupe in titanium gray, was sitting in the garage at home, pristine. Annie said the coupe was an extension of his penis and a pathetic attempt to hold on to his youth, and she was right.
His cell phone rang. It was Dennis Fisher, calling to follow up.
“You said to phone if I learned anything new.” Fisher’s voice was tentative.
Jerry had his notebook ready and his pen poised. “Definitely. You never know what might help.” He looked out
