Page 82 of Serving the Maestro

I took a seat in front of Tony and asked for a beer, figuring it couldn’t hurt to spend money while I tried to get what I wanted.

“How can I help you?” Tony put the bottle in front of me, his smile friendly like the hostess’, but there was something more guarded about him.

A little bribe would probably help smooth things along. Glad I’d hit up the ATM before coming here. I slipped him a hundred.

“The hostess said you were working Saturday night.”

“Yep.” Tony’s smile was polite, but he remained on guard as he discretely pocketed the bill.

“I’m trying to find some information on somebody.” Pulling out my phone, I opened the photo apps and found the picture of Roger I’d downloaded from his Facebook page. “Do you remember seeing this guy?”

He held out his hand for my phone, and I turned it over.

No sooner had he looked at it than his face changed, and he returned my phone. “That prick? Yeah. I remember him from Saturday.”

It was an act of willpower to keep still and stay calm.

“What about the woman with him that night?”

Tony’s mouth twisted in a scowl. “He’s been here before. Probably half a dozen times, almost always a different woman, and they all end up getting hammered. So, yeah, I remember him and the woman.”

I suddenly noticed the security cameras in the bar. “If those cameras are recording, is there any way you’d let me see the video feed from Saturday night?”

For a long moment, Tony didn’t say anything, just watched me.

Finally, he pulled out his phone. “Let me check with the bosses.” He gave a half-smile.

I said nothing as he walked away, standing at the far end of the bar as he talked in a voice too low for me to hear.

It was a short conversation. In less than two minutes, he was coming back to me, face set in tight lines as he tucked the phone away. “Give me a minute.”

He returned quickly, a woman in black pants and a white shirt with him. While she went behind the counter, he nodded at me to follow. “Come on.”

Leading me down a narrow hall, he talked over his shoulder. “You lucked out. If we weren’t running so short this week, the video feed probably would have already been dumped. We only keep it for a couple days, so we don’t fill up the hard drive. I was going to handle all of that before I clocked out at the end of the day.”

He kept talking as he unlocked a door, then waved me in. He sat at a desk and pulled up a feed on a computer, then gave me a few simple instructions once he had the feed queued up on one of the monitors. “Got all that?”

“Yeah, I’ll figure it out.”

* * *

The security camera feed had six different camera angles, and I’d already switched so I had the bar on the monitor, but the time crawled along at a snail’s pace. Finally, I texted Cam to find out when she thought Jazz and Roger might have arrived at the bar.

Cutting through maybe an hour of useless feed, I watched, jaw tight, my pulse pounding a drum beat at the base of my skull.

When I finally saw Roger at the bar, a wave of red washed over my vision. Putting the feed on regular speed, I leaned forward to watch.

Tony took a couple of minutes to get to him, and Roger looked jumpy, casting glances in the direction of the hall that would have led to the bar’s entrance and the bathrooms, where Jazz would be.

Once Roger had the drinks on the bar, he breathed easier—I could even see his shoulders drop as if he’d just exhaled a deep breath.

Leaning in closer, I watched, and waited.

Roger took a sip of his drink.

Glanced at the entrance.

Took a sip.

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