Head for Murder: Head Rock Harbor Mystery #1 by Chase Connor

Author:Chase Connor [Connor, Chase]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lion Fish Press, The
Published: 2023-09-28T16:00:00+00:00

In Head Rock Harbor, you really have two options when it comes to clearing your head. Or, at least, if you use the method I use for clearing your head, there are only two options. There’s Bernie’s Tavern and then there’s Harper’s Bar & Grill. Bernie’s, while able to get the job done, is a little too rough of a crowd for me. Bernie himself is a nice enough fellow, but his patrons get rowdy after the sun goes down. I prefer my drinks don’t come with a knuckle sandwich.

Typically, if I wanted to drink, I’d go to Harper’s. My mom’s place, while rowdy at times, never got dangerous or violent. It wasn’t that the potential for rowdy townies to start swinging at each other wasn’t there, it was that everyone feared Deb Harper. The biggest, burliest guys in town knew that there wasn’t a man my mother feared. If you started tearing up her joint, you might end up in the river. Permanently.

Being Deb’s son, I was about the only person who could give her much sass. Then again, she didn’t really put up with a lot from me, either. At least not in public. That was why I didn’t tell her to find a better place to sit when she plopped down on the stool beside me at the bar.

When I’d first gotten to Harper’s, the bar area was still fairly vacant, seeing that the dinner rush hadn’t quite gone by and the sun was still slowly sinking towards the horizon. The regular drinking hour and the time for getting rowdy was still an hour or so off. It was the perfect time for me to clear my head. However, within a minute of my arrival, and before the first drink was even pushed in front of me by Cleo, the bartender, Deb had parked herself next to me.

“You see that group of young men over there?” she asked quietly.

Or as quietly as Deb could ever manage. Anyone within six feet could have heard Deb’s “whispers.” Fortunately, she wasn’t talking about anyone within six feet of us.

“Huh?”

“That booth full of young men.” Deb flicked her head towards the dining area as she pulled her cigarette wallet out of her half-apron. “Back corner.”

Cleo set a bottle of Blue Moon and a shot of Jack Daniels in front of me as I turned my head discreetly to look at the booth Deb mentioned. Across the restaurant, at the far other end in the dining area, the back corner booth was occupied by a group of four guys. Most my age or maybe a year or two younger. They all seemed to be of legal drinking age.

“Yeah?” I shrugged as I turned my attention to my drinks. “Thanks, Cleo.”

Cleo St. Clair, bartender, cabaret performer, and sometimes stripper, gave me a friendly nod. Then she went back to cleaning glasses and prepping for the rush later. Her silky black shoulder length hair had been pulled up into a high ponytail. Her tight

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