"Some of them. Alan Jenkins was a regular. He and Rick came in here a few times. But I heard Alan moved away." The bartender paused, his gazed narrowing. "I thought Rick torched some building and died in the fire. Are you saying Alan was involved? Because Alan told me he had no idea that Rick would do something like that."
Devin thought it was interesting that Alan and the bartender had actually spoken about the fire. "Did Alan come in here after the fire?" he asked.
"Yeah. He was messed up about Rick's death. He couldn't stop talking about it. He said it was ironic that Rick had died in a fire when he'd wanted so badly to be a firefighter."
"Did anyone else come in here with Alan and Rick?" Devin asked.
"I don't know. There definitely were other people around. There were a couple of good-looking women at their table one night. I never got their names."
"Anyone else stand out in your mind?"
A light entered the bartender's eyes. "There was another woman. She was serious looking, like a businesswoman or a cop. She met Rick the day of the fire."
Devin's gut tightened as a really bad feeling swept over him. "What did she look like?"
"Brown hair pulled back. Brown eyes. She walked in, said something to Rick and then they walked out. I remember wondering if Rick was in some kind of trouble, because she had a law enforcement vibe."
Devin reached into his pocket, his heart pounding against his chest as impossible thoughts ran through his brain. He took out his phone and opened his photos. He pulled up the one of Sam that he looked at every time he felt guilty, every time he vowed to get her justice.
He slowly turned the phone so the bartender could see it, and through tight lips, he got out three important words. "Was this her?"
"Devin," Kate murmured, but his attention was on the bartender.
"Yeah, that's her," the guy said. "Who is she?"
Devin turned the phone so Kate could see the photo.
She sucked in a quick breath.
"She's an FBI agent," Devin said. "And she died in the fire with Baines."
Sixteen
"I'm sorry," the bartender said, looking a little pale. "I guess I remember someone else was killed in the fire, but I didn't know who it was."
"Why didn't you tell the police any of this?" Kate asked.
"No one came here. No one asked me. I didn't know I knew anything," the bartender said nervously. "Why are you asking me all these questions now?"
"We're trying to find the person who killed Rick and this agent," Devin said, putting the phone back in his pocket.
"You mean Rick didn't set the fire?"
"We're trying to figure that out," Kate said.
"Do you remember anything else?" Devin pressed. "Something that maybe didn't seem significant at the time but now might be important?"
"I don't think so. Sorry."
Kate slid her card across the bar. "You've been very helpful. If you think of anything else, or if anyone comes into this bar who you saw with Rick, please call me, and see if you can get their names, phone numbers."
"Sure, of course, but I don't think I've seen any of his crowd in a long time."
Devin took a swig of his beer as the bartender moved down the counter to help another customer. He was still rattled by the information they'd received.
Sam had met with Baines here-before they'd gone to the house-before they died. Why hadn't she told him about Baines? About the meeting?
"Are you ready to go?" Kate asked.
He nodded, following her out of the bar. "Sam never mentioned Rick Baines to me," he said, as he got into the car. "She never said she had a meeting here or anywhere else."
"I figured she didn't, or you would have come here before."
"I can't believe Baines's roommate didn't tell me Rick liked to come to this bar. He'd obviously been here a few times."
"The roommate didn't know it was important."
"But I asked each one of those roommates where Baines spent his time outside of work. I was never given the name of this bar."
She gave him a helpless shrug. "I don't know what to say, Devin. Witnesses can be unreliable."
"You should say I screwed up."
"You didn't. I know you went back and re-interviewed the roommates a month after the fire. You can't force someone to tell you something."
"I should have gone back again, but I thought they were a dead end."
"The only reason Max went back to them this week was because we found the link between Baines and St. Bernadette's, Devin. And Max was curious to hear about Rick Baines from someone who knew him. He was trying to get a handle on the case. And before you say we should have immediately gone to talk to the roommates again after we discovered the link, can I just remind you that we've been pretty busy chasing down a lot of different leads in the past few days?"
"It's all just excuses."
"Whatever," she said in annoyance. "Look, Devin, you be angry later, but the time we waste on you mentally kicking yourself is not getting us anywhere."
Kate had a way of delivering a pep talk and a smackdown all at the same time, something he both admired and found irritating, usually because she was right.
He couldn't turn back the clock; he could only move on from here. "I can't figure out how Sam and Baines came into contact with each other in the first place," he said. "Did he reach out to her? Did she reach out to him? And if she did, how did she get to him?"
"I don't know, but the meeting between them at the bar before the fire changes everything. Either Rick lured her to the bar and then to the house, or they were working together in some way."
"They could have been working together," he said slowly, a theory gathering steam in his head. "Baines wanted to be a firefighter, but he'd been rejected. Maybe he wanted to show he was a hero, that he could stop an arsonist in his tracks. I know that sounds a little out there, but it's possible he reached out to Sam."
"I can see the logic to that."
"We need more than logic; we need proof."
"Baby steps."
"I am tired of baby steps," he said with a groan.
"I know. So what's next? We have about ninety minutes before the book signing and fundraiser. Shall we go back to the apartment? Or is there someone else you want to talk to?"
He thought for a moment, his mind racing in a dozen different directions. Should he seek out Malcolm Homer? The other roommates? Someone else?
"I don't know. I need to think," he said. "I need to make a plan. I'm still in shock that Sam met with Baines."
"It's a lot to take in," she agreed. "Why don't we grab some food and talk it out before the book signing?"
"We could do that."
"Do you like Chinese food? I can take you to one of my favorite restaurants in Chinatown."
He nodded. "That sounds good."
Fifteen minutes later, they entered the Golden Dragon. Despite the magnificence of its name, the restaurant was hidden away down an alley and did not look like much from the outside, but it was obviously a local favorite, as it was already crowded at five thirty on a Saturday night.
The host greeted Kate with a smile and a hug and quickly escorted them into the dining room, past the line of people waiting to be seated.
"That was a nice reception," Devin said, as they sat down. "What strings did you pull?"
"None. My father pulled all the strings for the entire family a long time ago. He saved the owner's family in a fire. Ever since then, there's always an open table, or Ben pulls one out of the back room for us. The food is excellent, too, by the way. What looks good to you?"
He glanced down at the menu, but the words were just a blur. "Why don't you order for both of us? My brain is fried."
She gave him a sympathetic smile. "Okay, I've got it." After Kate ordered dinner, she turned back to him. "It's hard to know what to do next. Do we zero in on Baines and his past relationships? Do we focus on the potential targets? Do we try to chase down security footage of the car you were following?"
"All good questions. I wish I had answers. After the fire, we talked to everyone who had a connection to Baines. About a month later, I made the rounds again and came up with nothing for a second time," he said, once again feeling frustrated by the lack of progress he'd made on the case despite the amount of time he'd put in. "We can go through the list one more time and see if anyone besides Malcolm has had a renewed burst of memory, but that's going to take time, and the arsonist will strike again within a few days." He tapped his fingers restlessly on the tabletop. "I can't decide if it's better to look at the targets and figure out where the arsonist is hitting next or re-interview everyone."