Janie Crouch - Man Of Action

Jennison interjected. “Look, we appreciate Omega sending you down here, and if you come up with any insight we’d love to hear it. We don’t want a killer wandering around loose. But the fact is, none of these women seem to have anyone who cares about them, two have an arrest record and all have employment that is a bit questionable.”

Kendrick shrugged. “So basically, we’ll do all we can—like Jennison said, nobody wants to let a killer go free—but we’re not getting any pressure from the higher-ups to put major resources into this investigation. Unfortunately, these women were pretty much nobodies.”

Chapter Four

These women were pretty much nobodies.

No family who cared. Arrest records. Questionable employment.

If the killer had been around four years ago, Andrea might have been one of the victims. Every part of that account described her when she was nineteen, before changing her life at Omega.

She wanted to, but she could hardly blame the cops. Law-enforcement funding was limited. Unfortunately, without family demanding justice, these murders, if not easily solved, would just get pushed to the side.

The only reason Omega had been called at all was because it was obvious the three kills had been performed by the same person. Otherwise Andrea didn’t know if the locals would’ve put any true effort into finding the killer.

They were on their way now to The Boar’s Nest, one of three bars here in Buckeye, where the latest victim—Noelle Brumby—had been known to frequent. It was two o’clock in the afternoon, but evidently Noelle had hung out here in the afternoons since she worked nights.

Andrea’s weariness pressed against her—reviewing the case files had taken her most of the night—but she pushed it aside. She had made it through talking to Lance Kendrick, who had thankfully not remembered her from her brief run-in with the sheriff’s office for underage drinking years ago. She could make it through this.

Walking inside, she thought The Boar’s Nest looked just the way someone would expect a small-town bar to look in the middle of the afternoon: dingy, run-down, pathetic. Night hid a lot of sins of this place that sunlight brought out.

The Tuesday afternoon crowd wasn’t the most upstanding. Anybody who had a white-collar job, and even most of the blue-collar ones, would not be in this place at this time. The people patronizing The Boar’s Nest now worked nights or didn’t work at all.

Andrea heard a low whistle as they walked in, but didn’t know if it was for her looks or because they were obviously law enforcement. Nobody ran for the exit or stopped any activities suddenly, so at least it didn’t appear that anything illegal was happening.

She felt Brandon step closer to her and could see him looking around, obviously checking for any danger. Cops were sometimes not welcome in places like this, although that would not stop her and Brandon from their questioning. Brandon had a weapon, but Andrea didn’t. Hopefully he wouldn’t need to use it.

Two pool tables lined the far end of the room, with three guys playing on one. A bartender unpacked boxes and put glasses away behind the bar, and a couple sat at a table sipping beers in the corner.

All of them were looking at Brandon and Andrea.

Brandon touched her gently on the back—she knew it was an unconscious habit more than anything else but it still sent a slight shiver through her—and they headed toward the bar.

The bartender looked at them without halting his motions. “Lost or cops?”

Brandon chuckled. “Can’t be thirsty?”

“Yeah, you can. And I’ll gladly get you something, but I’m still pretty sure you’re one of the other two, also.”

“You’re right—the latter. We’re investigating the death of Noelle Brumby.”

The bartender stopped putting away the glasses. “Yeah, that was a damn shame. She was a nice girl. Friendly. I’m Phil. I own this bar.”

Andrea studied Phil while he talked. He seemed very sincere about liking Noelle.

“Can you tell us anything else about her?” Brandon asked.

“She worked at a...er, gentleman’s club closer in to Phoenix.”

Allure. They already knew that and would be interviewing people there soon, even though Kendrick and Jennison had also spoken with them.

“Why didn’t she work at Jaguar’s, do you know?” Andrea was hesitant to bring up her former place of employment in front of Brandon, but understanding why Noelle would drive farther to work at a club rather than work at the strip club here in town might have some bearing.

Both the bartender and Brandon looked a little surprised at her question.

“You from around here?” Phil asked. “You’ve never been in this bar before. I’m pretty sure I’d remember you.”

“I’ve driven through town a few times.” Better to just keep her past out of it.

“Noelle didn’t like the owner over at Jaguar’s. Had heard some bad things about him. Harry Minkley’s his name.”

Yeah, Andrea already knew Harry’s name. And she was glad Noelle had the good sense not to work for him. Although in the long run, it hadn’t helped her.

“Noelle came in here a lot?” Brandon leaned one arm against the bar so he had a better view of the whole place.

“Mostly during the week in the afternoons. Weekends were pretty busy for her, as were a lot of evenings. She hung out with those guys over there. The tall, skinny one’s named Corey. Big one next to him is Luke and the other is Jarrod.” He pointed back to where the three guys were playing pool. “They knew her better than me.”

Brandon and Andrea both turned toward the men. “Thanks for your help,” she said over her shoulder.

“Thank you for trying to find the killer.” Phil turned back to his unpacking. “I wondered if anyone would bother.”

The three younger men—all in their early to midtwenties—continued to play pool as she and Brandon made their way over. But she could tell they were quite aware of her and Brandon as law enforcement and of her as a woman.

“Hey, guys.” Brandon’s tone was friendly but firm. “We’d like to talk to you about Noelle Brumby.”

Andrea tried to watch all three as closely as she could. Two, Luke and Corey, immediately tensed, but she wasn’t sure if that was because of their relationship with Noelle or because they just didn’t like cops. The other one, Jarrod, definitely expressed some guilt at Noelle’s name, but mostly couldn’t seem to get his attention off Andrea.

Andrea tried to classify in her mind the reactions of each man. She wished she could record them and study them multiple times later, but she didn’t have that luxury in this situation.

“What makes you think we even knew her?” Luke asked, now holding the pool cue with white knuckles.

“Phil said she hung out with you three a lot.”

“Yeah, well, maybe Phil should keep his mouth shut,” defensive guy number two—Corey—muttered, not looking up from the shot he was making.

Brandon walked around the pool table so he was standing against the far wall. Andrea understood why he did it, to get a different angle and perspective for reading these guys, but she felt more exposed without him next to her.

“We’re trying to find the killer of someone who was your friend. I’d think you’d want to help with that.” Brandon was watching Luke and Corey as he made the statement—one meant to cause a reaction. Andrea turned her attention to Jarrod, only to find him overtly studying her, so she looked back at the other two men.

“Some sicko killed Noelle,” Luke said. “We don’t know anything about it.”

Corey was looking more and more uncomfortable. “What’s your name?” she asked softly even though she already knew.