entrance of the store. I finally spot Joan emerging from the stacks and she sends me a wave to come over.
“He’s back there. I thought maybe I could help him, but he’s asking very specific questions,” she says with a snicker. “Maybe you’ll have better luck.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I reply, shrugging my shoulders.
“Thank you.” She moves past me toward the front counter. “One moment, sir,” I hear her call out behind me as I move into the aisles.
When I reach the section containing the works of Edgar Allan Poe, I see a man standing there, thumbing through a book with his back to me. His clothes make me think he’s probably in college or a little bit older. I’d probably call his style hipster chic.
“Excuse me, sir? I heard you had some questions about Poe?”
“No, not really. I just wanted to get you alone so we could talk,” he replies and turns around to face me.
“Seriously, Parker? You have the worse timing ever for joking around,” I scold him and begin to storm off, but feel his hand grab my arm. Shaking free of his grip, I whip back around to look at him with a glare. “Mr. Whitman’s dead,” I blurt out.
“What?”
“So forgive me if I’m not in the mood right now to have an existential conversation regarding where the two of us stand relationship-wise.”
I see the surprise register on his face as it pans down to the ground. The look gradually turns into sorrow as his eyes once again meet mine. Seeing his reaction, I feel bad for the way I broke the news to him.
“I can’t believe...Mr. Whitman…How did it happen?”
“You’ll probably hear all about it on the news. The shitty part is that everyone, including my father, thinks it was an accident, but I know better.”
“Did Unknown send you another text?” he whispers in an urgent tone.
“Doesn’t have to. This has ‘Unknown’ written all over it.”
“But you never got a text? Are you sure this wasn’t an accident?” he asks, seeming flustered.
“You’re beginning to sound like my dad,” I respond indignantly, which lands me on the receiving end of a scowl.
“I’m serious, Dani. Why do you think Unknown did this?”
“I don’t want to talk about it here. Can we go somewhere else?” I ask, looking around and making sure there are no eavesdroppers.
“Sure,” he says as he combs his hand through his hair. He looks stressed out. He’s clearly still trying to process that Mr. Whitman’s gone. “I know a place where no one will bother us. Larry’s. I could really use a drink right now, anyway.”
“Larry’s? You mean that skeevy bar at the edge of town? My dad and his deputies break up bar fights there nightly. Not to mention I’ve met Larry in town before and he kind of gives me the wiggins.”
“Do you have a better idea?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow.
“I guess not.”
“Larry’s it is, then.”
Walking back up to the front counter, I hear the door chime as Parker exits the store. “I’m cutting out early, Joan. I thought work would be the best thing for me, but I think I’m just too overwhelmed right now to even think.”
“I completely understand, Dani. You don’t have to explain. See you Sunday?” she asks.
“Most likely,” I reply.
Chapter Twenty Two
It’s just before dark, and as I drive up to the bar the neon signs pulse in anticipation of nightfall. I laugh to myself when I see that the “Larry’s” sign has a few faded sections and now just reads “Lar’s Bar.” By the looks of the place, I can see it’s a real winner. Shoddy construction plus shoddy signage equals skeevy bar on the edge of town. I’m sure every town or city has at least one of these timeless treasures to call their own.
I see Parker waiting beside his motorcycle for me as I pull into the parking spot next to his. He opens my door like the gentleman he can be, and escorts me to the entrance. When he pulls open the door, I’m enveloped by the stench of alcohol and cheap cologne. The clank of pool balls in the back area draws my attention to the billiards room. Typical sounds from a typical bar. I do have to give them credit for their cute paper Halloween decorations placed haphazardly around the space, though.
“Come here often?” I ask, looking around.
“Not really,” he replies. That lie is called out the moment Larry announces our arrival.
“Parker! One of my best customers,” he