Tommy smiled. “You’re good,” he said extending his hand. “I’m Tommy Bracco. Baltimore.”
The man shook his hand with a firm grip. “Norm Jennings. West Lafayette, Indiana.”
Tommy snapped his fingers. “I had you pegged for the mid-west,” he said. “West Lafayette. The home of the Purdue Boilermakers.”
“That’s the place,” Jennings said.
“How’s the basketball team doing this year?”
“Lousy.” Jennings said, then took a sip of his beer. “Just one and four so far.”
“I see,” Tommy said. He drank his beer, then returned his attention to the game. He pulled his phone out and checked the Purdue Boilermakers’ record, just for something to do. One and four, just like the guy said.
“Bracco?” Jennings said. “Any relation to the sheriff?”
Tommy nodded. “My cousin.”
“Really?” Jennings seemed to perk up. “You two must be close.”
“Very,” Tommy said. “Pretty much grew up together.”
“So are you in law enforcement as well?”
Tommy chuckled. “Hardly. I just came by for a visit after one of these terrorists took a shot at him. ”
“That’s right,” Jennings said, swirling his finger around in the bowl of peanuts until he found the one he wanted. “I read about that. Is he okay?”
“He’ll be fine,” Tommy said. “He’ll be even finer once we catch the rat bastard.”
“I see. So you’re helping him track this guy down?”
“Something like that,” Tommy said, suddenly realizing he’d been answering a lot of questions. “How about you? What brings you into a war zone like Payson?”
“My mom lives up here and refuses to leave. I thought I’d better keep an eye on her if she’s going to stay.”
“So you’re staying with her?”
“Yes. How about you? Are you staying with your cousin?”
“I am,” Tommy said, checking out the new arrivals as they entered the bar. Two girls and one guy. The guy fit the description. He watched the trio slide into a booth. The guy, maybe Eddie Lister, opened up the plastic menu from between the salt and pepper shakers and looked it over.
“People you know?” Jennings asked, following Tommy’s gaze.
“Maybe,” Tommy said. He returned to his beer trying to figure out the best way to handle the situation. A little patience might help him, but Tommy wasn’t so good with patience.
“Is there something I could do?” Jennings asked.
“Excuse me?”
“I mean with this terrorist,” Jennings added. “Is there anything I could help you with?”
“Sure,” Tommy said. “Just tell me where he is and I can go home.”
“Hmm,” Jennings said. “That’s a good question. Where would you hide if you were trying to outrun the authorities? In plain sight, or tucked away in a cabin somewhere?”
“Me, I’d hide out. But then, I’m not into killing innocent Americans.”
“Why do you think there’s such a spike in violence recently?” Jennings asked solemnly, like a schoolteacher searching for the correct answer.
“Beats the crap outta me,” Tommy said.
“Do you know what I think? I think there’s too much violence on TV. Kids can turn on any channel twenty-four hours a day and see explosions in the Middle East, or movies with special effects so real, who can tell the difference anymore? First time I saw the towers going down on September 11th, it felt like I was watching a movie.”
Tommy nodded. “I know what you mean, you get desensitized to the pictures you’re seeing.”
Tommy noticed Jennings was sipping his beer even slower than he was.
“Listen,” Tommy said. “You wanna give me a hand here?”
Jennings looked interested. “What do you need?” he asked, placing his beer down and wiping the foam from his lips with the back of his hand.
“Just make sure no one blindsides me, okay?”
“Blindside? What do you intend to do?” Jennings asked.
“I don’t know yet. Maybe nothing,” Tommy said. He looked at the man who was already twisting in his bar stool and facing the room behind them. “You with me, Norm?”
Jennings gave a small and decisive nod. “I have your back.”
Somehow, the way he said it, Tommy believed him.
The bartender paused in front of them as he was going past. “You two still okay?”
They both held up their hands.
“Hey, wait a second,” Tommy said. “Could you get me a small bag of ice?”
The bartender had a questioning look on his face.
Tommy flexed his hand and twisted his wrist. “I messed up my hand at work,” he said. “I just need to get the swelling down.”
The bartender nodded. Before he could leave entirely, Tommy added, “And a clean bar towel.”
The bartender waved his acknowledgment as he left.
Tommy returned to his beer.
“You okay?” Jennings asked.
“Huh?’
“Your hand,” Jennings said.
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. I’m just thinking ahead.”
A minute later the bartender returned with a small plastic bag with ice and a semi-clean bar towel. When he left, Tommy stood and handed the items to Jennings.
“Hold onto this,” Tommy said. “I’ll let you know if I need them.”
Jennings shrugged.
Tommy walked over to the booth where the three young people sat. The young man sat by himself while the two girls shared their side of the booth. The kid was early twenties, dark complexion with a few days stubble which the women seemed to like these days.
“Hey, Eddie,” Tommy said.
“Yeah,” the kid said, looking a bit confused.
“Eddie Lister, right?” Tommy smiled like he was an old friend.
“Yeah, that’s right. Do I know you?”
Tommy rested his palms on the table and smiled at the two girls. “Ladies,” he said.
All three looked at him waiting for an explanation.
“Listen, Eddie,” Tommy said. “Can I get a word with you alone?”
Eddie’s face grew dark. “About what?”
Tommy looked around the room, trying to be discreet. He noticed Jennings paying close attention at the nearby stool.
“Eddie,” Tommy said, “you don’t know me, but I’m a nice guy. I just need a word with you so we can all go back to our dreary little lives.”
Eddie looked bewildered. He seemed to feed off the apprehension on the girls’ faces. “I don’t think so.”
Tommy sighed. “We don’t need to do this dance, Eddie.”
“What dance we talking about?” Eddie said, fishing around under the table, then coming up with a pistol. It was dark in the room, but Tommy figured it to be a single action Ruger. Popular out west for some reason.
The girls squealed while leaning back in their side of the booth. Eddie held the pistol low so no one else could see it very easily.
“You gonna shoot me, tough guy?” Tommy said, feeling the blood running hard through his veins.
“If you don’t get out of here in five seconds, I’m going to end this,” Eddie said with a convincing expression.
Tommy noticed Jennings watching the event with an intense stare. He didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by the event. The bartender was too busy stocking liquor at the end of the bar.
Tommy looked at Eddie with disdain. “This isn’t the movies, kid. You don’t need to count. Either you’re gonna shoot me, or you’re not.”
Eddie did what most people did in situations like this when they weren’t prepared to act. He screwed his face into a tight, angry expression and held the gun out closer to Tommy, as if the shorter distance would add to the threat.
Tommy placed his hand on the back of his neck and shook his head. “You want we should count together, or is this like one Mississippi, two Mississippi and we count in our heads?”
“I’m dead serious,” Eddie scowled.
Tommy jumped sideways, then pulled the gun from Eddie’s hand and cold-cocked the kid in the nose. One hard punch was all he needed and the kid’s head lurched back, then forward. Both of his hands immediately covered his nose. Blood seeped between his fingers as the girls shrieked and scurried out of the booth.
The front door opened and closed as the girls left and the room became quiet. Tommy slid into the booth next to Eddie and tucked the gun between his legs. He pulled a bunch of paper napkins from the dispenser at the end of the table and handed them to Eddie.