Page 28 of Nightshade

“My bar manager is Buddy Callahan,” Crane said. “He’s been here almost thirty years.”

“I need to talk to him. Is he here now?”

“I believe he is. But I would prefer that you speak to him when he’s not serving our members.”

“Mr. Crane, this is a criminal investigation. You started it when you reported the theft of a priceless object. The investigation goes where it goes when it goes. I need to see your bar manager right now.”

“Very well, Sergeant.”

Crane picked up the phone on the desk and punched in three numbers. He instructed whoever answered to send Buddy Callahan up to the office immediately, then hung up.

“He’s on his way,” Crane said.

“Thank you,” Stilwell said. “And I want to speak to him alone.”

“I feel like I should monitor the conversation. In case something he says needs clarification.”

“It’s procedure. I have to talk to him without anybody, including his boss, listening. Is there a—”

“Not a problem. You can have the office. I need to check onsomething downstairs anyway. I must warn you, though, that Buddy is opinionated and very protective of the club and its members.”

“Meaning what?”

Crane stood up.

“Meaning he shoots from the hip and speaks his mind,” he said. “I’ll go bring him in.”

He moved around the desk and headed out of the office.

11

BUDDY CALLAHAN WOREa white shirt with a black bow tie and matching waistcoat, ready for a night of work in the BMC bar. Stilwell had moved around the desk to Crane’s seat, preferring the position of authority. Callahan entered the office and stopped when he saw Stilwell where he was used to seeing Crane.

“Close the door, Buddy, and come take a seat,” Stilwell said.

Callahan did as he was told. He appeared to Stilwell to have lived a hard sixty years and had the gin blossoms and bloated belly to prove it. After he sat down, Stilwell gave him a moment to say,What’s this all about?But he sat there quietly, apparently having been given a heads-up about the subject matter by Crane. Stilwell filled in the rest.

“I’m Detective Sergeant Stilwell with the sheriff’s department,” he began. “I’m investigating the theft of a valuable object from the club here. Are you familiar with what I’m talking about?”

“Yeah, I heard all about it,” Callahan said. “That statue been there the whole time I been here.”

“Which I’m told is almost thirty years.”

“Twenty-eight, to be exact. Longer than anybody else except some of the members.”

“I’m guessing Buddy isn’t your real name. I need your formal name for—”

“No, it’s Buddy. Says it on my birth certificate. My mother, she was a big Buddy Guy fan. You probably never heard of him.”

“‘Damn Right, I’ve Got the Blues.’ I know Buddy Guy.”

“There you go. And get this—my full name is Buddy Guy Callahan.”

“That’s cool.” Stilwell smiled and moved on with the interview. “So, Leigh-Anne Moss, what can you tell me about her?”

“She was on the make, that one. I told Crane she was bad news from the start.”

“‘On the make,’ ‘bad news’… what are we talking about here?”

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