Page 20 of Twin Threats In Austin
“I’ve seen him walk out with a female at least once,” Combs admitted. “Maybe a couple of times when I really think about it.”
“Has this person ever caused a disruption?” Rochelle asked.
“No,” Combs said. “Not him. I’ve never been called in to take care of him.”
“What about when he leaves? Is he drunk?” Camden asked.
“Not that I’ve ever seen,” Combs answered.
They needed to speak to the bartender on shift that night next.
“Is there anything else you remember about him?” Rochelle asked, figuring they needed to wrap up this conversation so they could move onto the next.
“No, ma’am,” Combs said. He lifted his gaze. “Am I free to go?”
“Yes,” Camden said to Combs. “But first, would you give me a call if the male shows up at the nightclub again?”
“You bet,” Combs said. “I’m willing to cooperate in any way that I can.” He handed over his cell so Camden could put his contact information inside. “It’s a shame what happened.” He seemed like the kind of person who would take somethinglike this very seriously. A kidnapping happening on his watch wouldn’t sit well.
Combs entered his details and then handed the cell back. Camden texted the bouncer to make the connection.
After exchanging courtesies, Combs left the room. A bartender was next. He’d been working that night but had no recollection of the people or events. Three waitresses followed, and none had a distinct memory of Justina or Kage.
Hours passed with interview after interview. Tacos were ordered and then eaten at some point. As Camden was about to suggest they call it a day, the sergeant poked his head in the door.
“I have one more for you,” he said. “Amy Adamson was tending bar on the night in question.” He stepped aside to reveal a thin woman in her early thirties with a head full of long wiry hair that was barely contained in a rubber band.
“I’m Amy,” she said.
Introductions followed as did the same routine of initial questions.
“I do remember the male from that night,” Amy admitted. “He was gorgeous. Quiet. Sat at the bar and ordered ginger ale. Who does that?” Amy gestured with her hands that she had no clue. “But when he came in the second time, he seemed different.”
“How?” Rochelle asked.
“I don’t know,” Amy said. “More outgoing, I guess. He circled the dance floor instead of sitting at the bar. He didn’t come back to me, which maybe isn’t all that odd except that he was the kind of person who would do something familiar. I’m probably not explaining this the right way, but you size up a person when they sit at your bar for a while. You can almost guess their order before they take a seat. Jeans and a T-shirt are gonna order a beer. If the person works out, it’s probably going to be a lightbeer. Guys who dress to impress are always going to go for a mixed drink.” She flashed eyes at them. “You do this job long enough and you can guess. I make a game of it to see how many times I’m right in a night.”
“What’s your percentage?” Camden asked, figuring an attractive bartender would most likely be propositioned many times over the course of an evening, whether they’re male or female.
“I’m good,” she said. “I usually rock it in the high nineties.” She shrugged. “Then again, I’ve been on the job for a long time. You tend to get better with age, right?”
“I believe that’s true,” Rochelle agreed.
Camden trusted Amy’s memory if she liked to play memory games while on shift. It meant she paid attention to details.
“So, yeah, it surprised me when I saw my customer circling the dance floor with a beer in his hand,” she said. “There was something else different about him that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.” She pursed her lips. “Maybe it’ll come to me later.”
“Is there anything else you remember about that night?” Rochelle asked as Camden contemplated the fact the bartender had just described a predator circling its prey when she explained what she saw that night. If this was true, Kage was a bold-faced liar. Or just an intelligent criminal.
“No,” Amy said after a thoughtful pause. “That’s about all.”
“I’d like to give you my contact information in case you suddenly remember anything new,” Rochelle stated.
They exchanged information. In the past hour, Rochelle had bit back three yawns, a sure sign she needed to wrap up this investigation up for the day.
After the bartender left, Camden urged Rochelle to wrap things up. She started to protest but then seemed to decide against it.
“You’re right,” she finally said. “My brain is starting to hurt. Plus, ever notice how answers show up when you step away from overthinking?”
