Raspberry Crush (22 page)

After using the facilities, Billy noticed the dim, cracked mirrors and the graffiti on the walls. Right in front of her someone had scribbled,
I'm a nasty freak
—which was followed by the rebuttal:
So's your mother.
A sudden protective urge came over her, as she thought of her aunt dating Ted Schneider and having to spend time in a dank, seedy place like this because she loved him.

Aunt Penelope
, Billy thought firmly to herself,
you can do so much better.

* * *

Back at the table, Seth was making some headway with the waitress, who seemed to have taken a liking to him. She looked to be around forty, with deep lines of age marked into her tanned, leathery skin, and wore a name tag that read,
Leah.
"Haven't seen you around," she said, smiling broadly. "And believe me, I'd remember."

"I'm new to the area," Seth remarked casually. "Just wanted to check out the local scene."

"And you came
here?"

"Yeah, well, this place has a lot of... personality," he said, looking around. Leah snorted a laugh, and Seth continued, "I wonder if you could tell me about a man who used to come here—"

"Oh, you're gay," she said, obviously disappointed. "I should've known."

"No, no," he said with a soft chuckle, "I'm not gay." Please, it was all he could do to tame his fierce attraction to Billy—not to mention his dick, which had gone from semihard to aching in the last twenty minutes. But how the hell could he look at her—hear her voice—and not recall what had happened the other day on his kitchen table? How could he block out echoes of Billy's sexy, throaty moans, and the feel of her hard nipples against his palms? She'd told him to forget about it, but she was asking the impossible.

"You're not gay?" Leah said, perceptibly cheered. "Then why are you looking for a guy?"

"He's an old friend of the family's, but he lost touch a few years ago," Seth lied. "I wanted to find out what happened to him. From what I understand, he used to come here."

"What does he look like?" she asked. After Seth described Ted, Leah nodded with recognition.

"Hey," Billy said, sliding into the booth.

"Hi," Seth said, smiling at her, then turned back to Leah... whose face dropped, suddenly losing its flirty expression.

"So what are ya having?" she asked brusquely, and flipped her pad open. Seth could only assume her demeanor had changed because she mistook Billy for his wife or girlfriend.

"I'll have a Sam Adams," he said, then looked to Billy.

"Nothing for me," she said. It was hard to trust the cleanliness of the glassware in a place like this.

After the waitress left, Seth turned to Billy and dropped his voice. "Listen, how do you feel about sitting at the bar for a few minutes?"

She didn't have to look over at the bar to know how she felt—like a piece of chum swirling among a few inebriated sharks. In other words, clobbered, smothered, not exactly thrilled. "Why?" she asked, confused. "I thought we were gonna ask the waitress about Ted Schneider first, and then work our way through the crowd." At least, that had been the plan they'd discussed on the ride over here. Although Billy still didn't know why Seth was so intent on helping her with her investigation. She hadn't told him her theory about the vandalism and threatening phone call, because she hadn't wanted him to worry. Besides, she couldn't prove there was a link between that and the Ted Schneider case.

"I know, but I get the feeling that Leah will be more talkative if it's just me."

Billy scrunched up her face, not getting it, and then—abruptly—she got it. "Ohhh, I see. It's 'Leah' now, huh? She
likes
you."

Grinning, Seth shrugged. "It's been known to happen from time to time."

"Okay, fine," Billy said with a smirk, and slid out of the booth. "But promise me you'll give me the signal as soon as I can come back."

"Of course I will."

"And drink your beer out of the bottle," she added.

"I promise."

With that, Billy headed to the bar, which was a horseshoe-shaped strip densely populated with dirty old men. At least that was how they looked; maybe they were all pillars of the community. (The dirty-old-men community, that is.)

She ducked her way through the crowd, hopped up onto an available stool right in front of the tap, and tried not to touch the bar, which had something sticky on its surface.

"What can I get ya?" the bartender asked, pointing at her. He was a thick, stout man with a bushy mustache and a short manner; Billy knew she had to order something to stay in his good graces.

"Hi, I'll have a Diet Coke," she said, forcing a bright smile in the hopes it would help her blend in. Hey, while Seth was working the waitress for information, Billy might as well work the barkeep. "So... been working here long?" she asked casually.

"Yup."

"Oh, that's interesting."

No response.

"I guess a place like this attracts a lot of regulars," she fished.

"A place like what?" he asked, setting her Diet Coke onto the bar, and spilling some as he pushed it toward her. (Well, at least the carbonation might help dissolve the mystery ooze at her place.)

"Um, you know... just a real down-home kind of rustic establishment." He looked at her as if she were nuts. "A nice, quaint little... joint?"

He turned to another customer. "Hey, Coop, another beer?"

Hmm... she hadn't even gotten close to a conversation, much less asking him about Ted Schneider; maybe she was pussyfooting around too much. Maybe she needed a much more direct investigative approach. "Excuse me," she called, lifting her butt off the stool so the bartender would notice her over the tap. "Excuse me!" she called again, motioning to him with her finger.

"Yeah, lady, what?" he said impatiently, while he dunked some used glasses in a tub of grayish water, shook them out, and then put them on a drying rack.
Ewww.

"I was just wondering..." she began, trying to position herself casually along the bar without actually touching anything. "Did you happen to know a man named Ted Schneider? He used to come in here sometimes. A big guy, tall, gray beard."

He nodded. "What about him?"

"Was he a regular?"

"Regular enough."

"Did he usually come in alone, or—"

"Hey, lady, what do I look like, friggin' Chuck Woolery? I'm not running a dating service here." He said that last part a little loudly for her taste, then headed to the other side of the bar, calling out, "Turk, another brewsky?"

Meanwhile, Billy swallowed tremulously as she noticed several of the Rusty Canoe's barflies staring at her.

"So you're looking for a date, huh?"

Startled, she turned and found a tall bald man right next to her. He wore trousers with long underwear and suspenders, and his smushed, sour face screamed,
Elongated troll.
Somehow he'd slithered up so close he was practically breathing on the top of her head. "No, no," Billy said, edging toward her left. (That side wasn't much better: a bucktoothed man with rabid freckles and a disconcerting resemblance to the kid from
Problem Child.)
"Just asking about a man," she said. Wait, that didn't come out right.

"Well, look no further," the tall one said, smiling and revealing a few less teeth than was ADA-recommended. "Your ship's come in."

A burst of laughter erupted at the bar, and someone let out a wolf whistle.

Almost grimacing, Billy said, "No, I meant I'm looking for some information. Did you by chance know a man named Ted Schneider?"

"Hold on there—I don't give any information till I get a slow dance."

What!
Okay, that was
so
not happening. "I don't dance," Billy lied. "But thanks. So about Ted Schneider—"

"C'mon,
one
dance. One dance won't kill ya. I'm Willy, by the way," he said, and held out his hand to shake hers. Billy and Willy? It would almost be too precious if he didn't look like the crypt keeper on growth hormone.

"No, really," Billy insisted, "I... I sprained my ankle the other day, and it's still recuperating. But thanks. Now about this man—"

"Like I said, I don't bite the line unless you bait the hook."

More chortles and whistles. Okay, that was it. She'd tried. For
get
it. She had no reason to think the troll even knew anything. "I said no," she reiterated for the last time, and turned around on her stool. She stretched up and looked over at Seth's table for the go signal. But Seth wasn't looking her way; he was talking to the waitress. Billy hoped at least
he
was getting somewhere... and she hoped he'd get there fast.

* * *

"Where's your date?" Leah asked, after setting down Seth's beer.

"My date? Oh, you mean my sister. She's over at the bar."

"So you were asking about some guy before?" Seth gave a description of Ted, and Leah recognized it right away.

"Did you know him well?"

Leah shook her head. "No, but he seemed like a nice enough guy. Never really hassled me. Well, except when he drank too much. Anyway, I never knew his name till I saw his picture in the paper—wait, you know he's dead, right?"

Seth tried to act surprised to see what more he could learn. "No, actually I didn't. How did he die?"

"Some kind of allergic reaction," she said with a shrug. "I read about it in the
Gazette
after it happened. It wasn't too detailed, just a little bit-piece about him."

"Ah, I see. What was that you said about Ted drinking too much?" Seth asked, because he suddenly remembered that Ted had been intoxicated at the jubilee. Or at least he'd seemed that way.

Leah nodded. "Yeah, that was the only thing. He was pretty decent, but sometimes when he drank, he didn't seem to know when to stop. And he didn't always hold his liquor too well."

"What do you mean?" Seth asked curiously.

"When Ted got drunk, he got—"

"Mean?"

"Stupid," she finished. "No, stupid's not the right word. Forgetful. Like he'd order the same thing twice, wouldn't remember he already ordered, or he'd ask me about the specials a million times."

"I see..." Seth said, nodding pensively. What Leah was telling him only seemed to confirm the possibility that Ted, in his drunkenness, had simply gotten confused at the Dessert Jubilee, and accidentally eaten something he shouldn't. Still, Billy was convinced Ted's death was no accident, and Billy had always been bright and intuitive. Seth was skeptical, of course, but he had to admit there was a possibility that she was right. "Did he ever mention how he liked Churchill? Why he moved here? Or where he was from?" Seth said.

"No, he pretty much kept to himself," Leah replied. "But he hated rich people; I know that. I overheard him going off about it a couple of times. About how the rich thought they could buy everyone. That's why I could never understand why he liked that woman he always came in with."

"What woman?" Seth asked, his gaze sharpening.

"His girlfriend, I guess," Leah said.

Interesting. In all of Sally's gossipy rants about Ted Schneider, she'd never mentioned his having a girlfriend. Maybe the woman was from out of town. And more important, maybe she knew something about Ted's death. At least it was a place to start. "I don't suppose you know his girlfriend's name?" Seth asked. "Or where I could find her?"

Leah scratched her head with the eraser of her pencil. "Jeez, I don't have a clue. She was old, kind of the prissy type, looked like she came from money." Tilting her head, Leah smirked. "Boy, you sure are interested in some guy you don't even know," she said. "Let's talk about something else, like
me."

This definitely seemed like a good time to give Billy the signal. When he glanced over at the bar, he saw her perched on her stool, looking around aimlessly. Her big eyes seemed to take in everything, but never linger too long in any one place. And damn... she was pretty.

As soon as Billy made eye contact with Seth, she couldn't hop off her stool fast enough. She scurried back to the table and slid into the booth just as the bartender called out, "Hey, Leah, we're not running a welcome wagon here!"

Rolling her eyes, Leah turned to go, but Seth stopped her. "Wait, can we have some fried calamari and steamed oysters over here?" After Leah left, Seth grinned boyishly at Billy and said, "I realized I was kind of hungry."

"Oysters?" she said, grinning back. "Just don't get any ideas."

His face darkened then. Now he was a man, not a boy, undoubtedly remembering that incredibly sexy encounter on his kitchen table, and Billys cheeks flamed as she recalled it, too. Then she sucked in a sharp breath and reined her sanity back in.

"So how did it go? Did you learn anything about Ted?" she asked. Seth told her what Leah had said about Ted Schneider having a girlfriend, and Billy mulled it over. Then she tapped the table-top as though she had a revelation. "Ow!"

"What happened?" Seth said, instantly concerned.

"Oh, nothing, I think I just got a splinter," she said, studying her finger, then shook off the thought. "Anyway—you know what we need to do?"

"What?" Seth asked, hoping that if she wasn't going to say,
Fool around,
she'd at least say,
Eat.
But he had the distinct feeling she was about to cook up another errand for them to run, and before his meal came.

In the meantime he used her splinter as an excuse to touch her. Taking her hand in his, he examined her finger, then rubbed it gently and said, "No splinter."

"Thanks," she said, smiling. She tried to pull her hand back, and Seth reluctantly let go.

"You said, 'You know what we need to do,' " he reminded her.

"Oh, right," Billy said, remembering now. "Break into Ted Schneider's boat."

"What?"
He almost choked on his beer, and as he set it back down he let out a laugh. "I know you're joking...." Yet the intense look in her pale blue eyes said that she was quite serious. "No, Billy. No, that's not a good idea."

"Why not?" she pleaded, sounding a little like a kid pleading with a babysitter to let her get away with something.