Bucking the Rules(70)
Despite the abrupt end, it had been a very good night.
Jo forced herself to walk calmly into the bar rather than running full speed the way her pounding heart dictated. Between hearing the words “police” and “in the bar” together in the same sentence, and recovering from that kiss upstairs, she was on the ragged edge of control in so many ways.
She opened the side door and walked in through the kitchen. Stu gave her a long look and a shake of his head.
“Never good for business when the cops show up and don’t order something.”
“You’re right there.” She patted his shoulder as she eased by him and walked into the dining area. The place was deserted, though that wasn’t totally surprising as it was near closing time. But two officers in khaki uniforms sat at the bar, listening to Amanda as she told some amusing story that had them both laughing.
Good girl. Keep them amused and entertained. Always good to have the law smiling when in your home. And the bar was her home, come hell or high water. “Officers, welcome to Jo’s Place.”
“You’re a Ms. Josephine Tallen, correct?” One of them glanced at the pad of paper in front of him.
“That’s me. You can call me Jo.” She held out a hand and shook with both as they introduced themselves as officers White and Nelson. “Can I get you something to drink? Water? Soda?” Both politely declined. “Well then, what can I do for you this evening?” She knew why they were there, but she wanted to hear it directly from them.
The one on the left, Officer White, scratched his chin. “We had a bit of an accident earlier tonight. Car drove into the Peckinpaugh place a few miles down the road. Quiet subdivision, not much traffic through there. Guy was heading home.”
“I hope nobody was hurt.” She also hoped she sounded sincere, since she knew the answer already.
“Minor injuries to the driver, nothing a night spent in observation won’t fix. Nobody was home, so only property damage on their side of things.”
She nodded, then waited. People who asked a lot of questions tended to look guilty. She had nothing to hide, but she wasn’t going to start volunteering information either.
“The driver, a Mr. Jeffrey Effingham, Junior, informed us he’d spent the time before going home here, at the bar.”
“He was here earlier, yes.” She patted the bar.
They played the same game as she had, waiting to see if there would be any more information. She stuck to her guns.
The man on the right, Officer Nelson, glanced at his partner’s pad. “He informs us he ordered dinner and drinks.”
“Dinner and a drink. I served him one beer, which he drank. He didn’t touch the dinner.”
He nodded, then asked, “Was he intoxicated when he arrived?”
“Not at all. He seemed in a pleasant mood, but there was no indication he was under the influence.” She gave them both intent stares. “I’ve been doing this long enough to pinpoint someone under the influence pretty quickly. I don’t over-serve my guests, and I don’t give someone who’s already buzzed fuel for a fire already started.”
“Good policy. We’ve just got one problem here.”
Oh, goodie. A problem. “Yes?”
“Mr. Effingham blew a point-one-five at the hospital.”
Good Lord. Talk about overkill. “I see.”
“He says he didn’t stop anywhere else to drink.”
“Okay.” She leaned against the cooler.
“He tells us you were his only stop before going home.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t follow him.”
“He also says, you plied him with beer, encouraging him to drink. Made him believe he was less intoxicated than he was.”
“Say what?” She shot off the cooler, causing the beer bottles to rattle. “What, like I funneled his beer while he was fighting me off?”
“Nothing so dramatic, ma’am.” The officers glanced at each other, as if silently asking each other how to approach the bear, and how long a stick they should use when poking.
“Just tell me how nondramatic it was, please.”
Officer Nelson tried again. “It simply appears as though his story and yours don’t quite … match.”
Officer White added, “He says you served him several beers—he doesn’t remember how many. Then he got in his car and drove off.”
The little piece of shit. “Do you want his receipt? He paid cash but—”
“That’d help, yes. But he also mentioned the beer was on the house, as you two were close friends. And when he asked if you would call a cab, you encouraged him to drive home, as he was”—the officer glanced at the pad—“just fine to drive.”