Death on Covert Circle by Patricia McLinn

Author:Patricia McLinn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery
ISBN: 9781944126698
Publisher: Craig Place Books
Published: 2020-04-24T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

But Karen Zalesk didn’t live in Haines Tavern.

Or in Stringer.

Or anywhere in North Bend County that we could find.

We tried the last name without the first name with no better luck. We also searched for Lorelei, with and without Zalesk. No luck there, either.

“Let’s expand the search to nearby counties and Cincinnati,” Clara said.

“You think someone came from another county, much less across the river from Cincinnati, to shop at the Haines Tavern Jolly Roger?”

“No. But what else are we going to try?”

I started searching.

With the same result — no one by that name.

“What now?”

“Let’s try that online neighborhood bulletin board,” I said.

The woman wasn’t registered. “If we ask if anyone knows her, someone could warn her we’re looking for her and she might never be found.”

“Right, and if Deputy Eckles found out, he’d have us drawn and quartered.”

“Even with Hensen running this investigation, let’s not put the idea in Eckles’ head.”

“Agreed.” This time Clara sighed before asking, “So, what now?”

“Give up on this for the moment. And try something else. Like going to the Roger to see if the manager’s there.”

“We could call— No. Not a good idea considering his history with phone calls. Let’s go. Besides, I have something else I want to do at the Roger.”

“More orange juice?”

“No. An experiment.”

* * * *

Normality had returned to the Haines Tavern Jolly Roger to the extent that Petey greeted us with a smile in the parking lot.

He also, however, shook his head and pursed his lips.

“Rough day, Petey?”

“Not like yesterday.”

Clara and I nodded solemnly.

“Trouble,” Petey intoned. “Those folks from corporate were trouble from the second they came speeding in here. That’s when I let Jacqueline know what was on the doorstep. Car comes barreling straight at me like they’ll run me down soon as look at me. I tell them they can’t park there and the driver guy starts yelling out his window at me. Nasty. Then that other guy — the string bean that can’t hold himself upright — gets out of the car and starts talking to me like I’m a halfwit.

“Didn’t care who they inconvenienced, either. Tried to tell them folks couldn’t get into the handicapped spots with them there. They didn’t care.

“After a while — well, now, some good time after you two went in, a few of the regulars came out, telling me they tried to tell him what was what but he didn’t listen. They’re not all like that, folks that run companies. The good ones — rare as hen’s teeth these days — want to know what customers think. Never him. Anyway, next thing I knew, the deputies were running up on us fast and then they weren’t letting anybody in or out.”

“Which customers came out and told you about what happened?”

He rattled off names. None were Aggie Hickmott or Phyllis Ezzard. “Said there was a set-to inside, customers telling him off and Mr. Bigshot not paying any attention.”

“What about Aggie Hickmott or Phyllis Ezzard? Do you know them? Did you see them leave?”

“Know them.

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