Duncan Byrne sat near the end of the bar hidden from the rest
of the room behind an unfinished pine post with genuine knotholes.
He could pretty much observe everything when he moved his head a
certain way around a group of waiters singing “Happy Birthday to
you” clap-clap, as some birthday boy was handed a gratis drink.
Outside of that, he kept his eyes on his whiskey glass or the
female bartender dressed in a short black skirt and a tight white
T-shirt with ‘The Watering Hole’ embossed on the front, showing
her boobs off to their best advantage. His type of place. He’d
occasionally talk to girls on either side, but his concentration lay
many tables across the room and the drama that was playing out.
She was walking out the door, but she’d be back. Of that he
was absolutely certain.
He regarded the detective, now sitting alone, popping those
damned peanuts. Tall, rugged and he supposed handsome to the
Annabelle was as beautiful as he’d ever seen her and that
pissed him off. She was supposed to be pining for him, instead she
dressed like a cheap slut looking for a quick pick-up. Maybe the
detective was one of them. His Annabelle. Untouched when he’d
married her. Unsullied. About to commit the sin of adultery. Never
mind those divorce papers. Once married. Always married.
He sipped his Johnny Walker Red.
‘Til death do us part.’
He should never have agreed to this divorce. This was his
fault. For this he’d be reprimanded. And the reason his Annabelle
Lee had be punished.
That detective…the man had better leave her alone,
otherwise more than one--no, make that two lives would be taken
By the looks of it, the detective seemed to be the local
Casanova. Familiar to the women here; probably in the biblical
sense. It was time to talk to the local ladies.
The woman to the right of him had short red hair. She
seemed to be popular with the locals, but she’d had her eye on him
ever since she’d sat on the bar stool.
“Hi,” he said. “Can I buy you a refill on that whiskey sour?”
She smiled and showed him a brilliant Julia Roberts type
smile. “Yes, thank you.”
The bartender stopped in front of them.
“Whiskey sour,” the woman said.
“Another shot of Johnny Walker Red for me.”
“Right away.” The bartender hustled to the bottles.
“I’m Candy,” the woman said. “I haven’t seen you here
before. Are you new? One of the vacationers?”
“Yes, I am. My very first time. Maybe you can tell me
something about the town and the people here?”
“Well,” she said. “If you want to know about the people in
this town, you’ve come to the right place. Everyone in Nager knows
“You know everyone in town?”
The bartender brought their drinks. Duncan paid.
Then he turned back to Candy and listened as she told him
everything he wanted to know about the town and the detective
sitting across the room.
Waterlilies Over My Grave is available at Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble (online or order it at a store near you) Books-a-Million and other online book stores.