Murder Has a Sweet Tooth - By Miranda Bliss Page 0,16
told me that was his name. He was really nice and really funny. I didn’t think—” Beneath a heavy coating of blush too orange for Jennifer’s pale complexion, she blanched, and I knew I had to get her back on track before she was derailed by the emotional strain of knowing a murdered woman and the man who supposedly killed her.
“He was drunk.” It wasn’t a question, but still, I hoped she’d answer.
She pulled on her cigarette for a couple long moments before she said, “I didn’t think so. I mean, I wouldn’t have served him if I thought he was. It’s against company policy. Did he have a couple pints? Sure. I delivered his last Guinness just as he and that Vickie woman were getting up to dance. But hell, I’d seen him drink more than that on some nights and still leave here as sober as a judge. He’s a big guy. He can hold his liquor. And he seemed fine to me. Right up until the very end, anyway.”
Jennifer’s cigarette was almost gone and I knew when it was, she’d have to get back on the floor. I didn’t wait to ask my next question. “What happened right at the end?”
“Well, they had a fight. I didn’t catch exactly what was going on, but . . .”
“But?”
Someone in the kitchen called out to Jennifer that the two bowls of clam chowder she was waiting for were ready. She took another long drag on her cigarette, dropped the butt, and ground it under the sole of her black work shoe. “Vickie said something about him not understanding and trying to push her when she didn’t want to be pushed.”
This meshed with what Alex had told us about how he’d confessed to Vickie that he wanted to date her and that Vickie had reacted badly. “And when Vickie said that, what did Alex say?”
“Well, that’s when he said he wished she was dead.”
The news hit me somewhere between my heart and my stomach, and for a while, all I could do was stare at Eve. Since she was staring right back at me, I guess she knew exactly how I felt. It wasn’t until I realized I was wasting precious seconds that I forced myself to speak. “He said—”
“‘ I wish you were dead.’ Yeah, that was it. I mean, at least I think it was. The music was kind of loud.” Jennifer turned to go back into the kitchen.
I stopped her with one last question. “Do you think Alex could have been drugged?”
It was Jennifer’s turn to be shocked, but she was a good sport. She thought about it for a minute. “I had a friend that happened to in a bar over in Reston,” she finally said. “Creep who slipped something into her drink tried to get her into his car, but a couple of us, we saw her leaving with him and we knew something was wrong. It’s scary, but yeah, you hear it happening to women all the time. But why would somebody drug a guy?”
It was a good question and, convinced it was important to find the answer, we thanked Jennifer and I called Tyler as soon as we stepped out of Swallows and were out of range of that news crew.
“Why am I not surprised you’re all over this murder like flies at a Sunday picnic?” he asked.
I didn’t take it personally. I mean, I did, but I didn’t let Tyler know it. Again, I asked what I’d asked the second he picked up his phone. “Is it possible Alex might have been drugged?”
Tyler thought about it before he said, “Anything’s possible.”
“He says anything’s possible,” I told Eve in a stage whisper before I spoke again in a normal tone of voice. “And you could find out, right? If you did some kind of blood test or something?”
“Paramedics drew blood. Procedure. But don’t get your hopes up. Those party drugs are hard to find after they’ve been in the system more than a couple hours, and nobody looks for them as part of any of the standard tests. You think it’s possible?”
“I think it explains why Alex can’t remember what happened after Vickie ran out of the restaurant.”
“If he’s telling the truth.”
No, Tyler couldn’t see me, but that didn’t mean I didn’t react to his accusation. My shoulders shot back. “Alex isn’t the type of man who lies.”
“Which type is that, Annie? The type who’s trying to save his butt after he gets