Played to Death: A Scott Drayco Mystery by BV Lawson

Author:BV Lawson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: murder, private detective, small town, series, crime fiction, beaches, mysteries, classical music, conspiracies, fbi agents, vengeful, private investigator series, unresolved sexual tension

Chapter 22

This was one building likely to dodge the wrecking ball. Officially called the Fiddler’s Green Tavern, Maida referred to it as the Ole Trunk and Drunk. Patrons filled up their cars with cases of brown ale and amber pilsner before carting them home, presumably to drown their sorrows. If you wanted immediate intemperance, you could sit inside on one of the barstools. Or the handy tables near the john.

Drayco liked the smell of places like this, the aromatic cocktail of wood, dust, and whiskey serving up an unapologetic embrace of life’s indulgences. A photo on the wall taken years ago showed the original sign boasting House of Spirits. The building dated back to 1880, the only commercial structure in town older than the Opera House. A few flirtations with fire and hurricanes necessitated changes, but it stood mostly as it had since the first thirsty customers staggered weak-kneed through its doors. The wide-plank flooring and ship figureheads carved in mermaid shapes were all rescued from local shore wrecks.

Maida had asked Drayco if he’d mind picking up some red wine for another of her famous after-dinner toddies. Drayco paid for his purchase and headed toward the door when a familiar marmalade voice called his name. He circled to the back and found himself in the presence of none other than Paddy Bakely, looking forlorn in a tattered coat and grease-stained shirt. Halfway between sober and soused, Paddy observed Drayco with watery eyes moderately engaged in reality.

“You’re the Opera House guy.” This was an about-face from Paddy’s actions at the courthouse. So far. Drayco waited for a new tirade, but Paddy took another sip of his beer. “Oakley broke in there once. Into the Opera House.”

A revelation from a drunk was hardly a solid-gold tip you could take to the bank. And Paddy was probably a fair liar when he drank, but this was too intriguing to let go. “Why did he break-in?” Drayco asked.

“It’s all about birthright,” Paddy said, in an unsteady voice. “Birthright and lust.” He grabbed Drayco’s collar, pulling Drayco closer to Paddy’s face where he was blasted with a strong odor of malt. Paddy added in a whisper, “Beware the sins of the father shall be visited upon the sons.” He laughed hoarsely. “Or is it the mothers?”

He released Drayco’s coat and sat staring vacantly into his beer mug. Drayco looked over at the proprietor who shrugged and said, “Paddy’s here a lot, but you can never be sure where he really is if you know what I mean.”

~~~

“Hello again, Mr. Drayco. Back to see if we have any new guns?” Like last time, Randy the gun shop manager was red-faced and out of breath.

Joel, sweeping the floor, scowled in Drayco’s direction. “Doubt a guy like him is here to window shop.”

Drayco picked up a pistol, weighed it in his hand and wrapped his fingers around the grip. Lightweight, but capable of pumping several rounds into the heart. The smoothness of the gun was similar to the satiny feel of the piano keys beneath his fingers.

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