Welcome to The Oyster Bar: a story of love & death by Beth Sorensen

Author:Beth Sorensen [Sorensen, Beth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Beth Sorensen
Published: 2023-06-05T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-One

Paul

“Tula, hang up the phone and call the police. I’m on my way.”

She had to be terrified. Alone, at The Oyster, with a dead body. Her words were a splash of ice water on my face, leaving me instantly awake. I dressed in lightning speed and hopped in the truck. I could have walked, but I didn’t want Tula to be alone for a second longer than necessary, and the truck was faster. It wasn’t until I pulled into the parking lot did I realize Shawncy was there, too. It was the day for our liquor delivery.

When I walked in, Tula and Shawncy were sitting at the bar, their purses slung over a chair. I watched as Shawncy poured two shots of Patron and handed one to Tula. They downed the tequila, and Shawncy coughed a little, but Tula handled it as if she took a shot of water.

“Ladies, I’m assuming the police are on their way?” Tula slowly nodded but didn’t turn to look at me.

It wasn’t until I watched her put the shot glass on the counter that I realized her hands were trembling.

I walked over to where they sat, joined them, and took her hands into mine. “Everybody good?”

“I’ll be better when that shot of tequila kicks in,” Shawncy commented.

Tula let go of my hands and walked into the kitchen. She returned with the schedule that was taped on the back of the door. “Paul, we aren’t opening tonight, are we?”

“No, of course not.”

“Shawncy, can you call everyone scheduled for today? Tell them not to come in. If they ask why, tell them. Gossip mongers will have it spread all over the county by suppertime anyway.”

Shawncy looked at me, and I nodded. Tula stared into nothingness. She was operating on autopilot, and I did not know what to do to support her. I let her continue but watched her closely. Tula handed Shawncy the schedule.

“Bring it back when you’re done. I’ll need to rework it for the week.”

Her voice sounded hollow and flat.

I was about to ask her if she needed anything when there was a knock on the front door. Before I could stand, Tula was at the door, unlocking it. Police and coroners entered. The line seemed to go on forever. Detective Neil Weston requested the three of us stay at the bar as he took us one by one out to the dock seating for questioning. He was the same detective who handled Dawson’s murder and Steven’s disappearance, so I was familiar with him.

“Mr. Reed, that’s all you witnessed today?” he asked after I told him everything I saw and what I had been doing over the last ten hours.

Most of it involved sleeping.

“Yes, like I said at the beginning, I think Tula was so freaked out about finding the body that she didn’t know who to call.” I looked through the window and saw her sitting at the bar, reconfiguring the week’s work schedule. She was making it look easy.

“I’m having trouble buying that she didn’t think to call 911 first.

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