Page 29 of Nightshade

“From day one she was trying to get her hooks into the members. She was looking for a sugar daddy.”

“She worked for you?”

“She worked weekends. She’d do the lunch shift and then move into the bar at night. That was when she worked for me, and I saw her game right away. She couldn’t put a drink down on a table without grabbing a shoulder or touching an arm. It was obvious. I told her to knock it off. She didn’t listen.”

“So you told Mr. Crane?”

“I wasn’t the only one. Some of the members didn’t like it. They complained.”

“Does that mean some of the membersdidlike it?”

“I can’t say.”

“Or won’t say?”

“I didn’t last twenty-eight years in this place by shooting my mouth off about members, and anyway, it’s got nothing to do with what you’re investigating.”

Stilwell nodded.

“How about you, Buddy? Did Leigh-Anne ever grab your shoulder or touch your arm?”

“I didn’t have the right bank account for that.”

“Did that upset you?”

Callahan laughed loudly. A little too loudly. Stilwell thought he might have struck a nerve.

“No, it didn’t upset me,” the bar manager said. “I’ve seen a lot like her over the years and I managed to keep my dick in my pants, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“You married, Buddy?” Stilwell asked.

“Not anymore. Tried it and it didn’t take. But I don’t fish off the company dock.”

“Mr. Crane thinks Leigh-Anne stole the statue on her way out. Did you see her on her last day?”

“Sure. I was the one told her the boss wanted to see her.”

“When was that?”

“As soon as she came in. She was late for setup, as usual, so maybe ten fifteen or thereabouts.”

“So you were here that early. I thought you ran the bar.”

“I do. But Saturdays during the season are busy, especially when we start getting into the season. Bar’s open whenever the restaurant is.”

“What exactly are your duties as bar manager?”

“Glorified bartender. I’m in charge of inventory and maintenance, but I’m behind the bar too—five nights a week.”

“I bet a woman like Leigh-Anne, the way you say she operated, she was pulling down a lot in tips. Did people get jealous? People like you?”

Callahan laughed again, his face getting red and his nose turning a deeper shade of purple.

“Aren’t you people supposed to do your homework?” he said. “There are no gratuities at this club. Members aren’t allowed to tip. For anything. There’s a twelve percent add-on to every chit. It goes into a pool that’s split evenly with everybody on staff at the endof the month. That girl complained about the money—the exact opposite of what you’re getting at, Detective.”

He said the last word with a double shot of sarcasm. Stilwell let it roll off him as he came back with a question.

“Why would she complain when everyone got an equal share?”

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