He blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness in the entryway. No fighting-at least not at the moment. Clusters of people at the pool table, the bar, half hidden in the darkness of the booths at the back.
Two perps restrained on the floor, bloodied but conscious. Hadley standing at the midpoint between ’em, talking to an officer in tacticals-Russ blinked again. It was Kevin. Twenty pounds heavier and looking like a real live grown-up. Huh. He was going to have to stop calling him “the Kid.”
Clare, he saw, had scanned the scene and was sensibly holding back. Or at least she did until Hadley waved. “Reverend Clare!” Well, she did go to Clare’s church. He could hardly blame her for being happy to see her pastor again.
The two women embraced, but Russ’s attention was caught by the perp in the BDU pants. He had been leaning forward, taking the pressure off his cuffs, but now he sat upright, craning his neck to get a better look at Clare. His expression, beneath the blood from his nose and a cut on his temple, was wary.
Clare was hugging Kevin now, setting the kid’s cheeks on fire. Russ crossed the floor. “Couldn’t wait to get started, huh?” He shook Flynn’s hand. “It’s damn good to have you back again, Kevin.” He slapped him on the shoulder, seeing, as he did so, the blue tattoo twining around his officer’s arm.
Kevin’s eyes followed his gaze. “It doesn’t show in uniform, Chief. I made sure of that.”
“Hmn.” Russ turned toward Hadley. “Knox? Talk to me.”
“Two guys, one gal.” She indicated the sullen white guy on the floor. “Wyler McNabb, the husband. He was here with his wife, Specialist Tally McNabb.” She pointed toward the black soldier. “Chief Warrant Officer Quentan Nichols, the boyfriend, who showed up apparently unexpected by either of the McNabbs.”
“A warrant officer?” Clare looked up at Russ. “May I speak with him?”
“Do you recognize him?” At Knox’s and Flynn’s puzzled expressions, he added, “Most of the army’s aviators are warrant officers.”
“No…” Clare’s expression was thoughtful.
“Then hang on a sec.” He turned to Knox. “Where’s the woman?”
She swiveled. “She was right here a minute ago.”
“You didn’t have her under restraint?”
“No. We figured-” She glanced at Flynn. “That is, I figured there were several individuals involved in the fight, but these two were the proximate cause. Since nobody else was hurt”-she laid her hand on her baton-“or hurt enough to complain to me or Officer Flynn, I thought we should book the two principals and leave it at that.”
She still had a tendency to give information like she was answering a quiz at the police academy, but he had to admit, she was always thorough.
“Go see if she’s in the ladies’ room. Clare?” He tipped his head toward Nichols.
Clare walked over to the man and plopped cross-legged in front of him as if sitting on a dirty barroom floor were something she did every day. “Chief Nichols,” she said, “I’m Clare Fergusson.”
He took a long look at her insignia. “Major,” he said. “I thought you were 31B for a minute there.” 31B? Russ couldn’t help himself, he stepped forward. “Then I heard the officer call you Reverend, but you don’t have any chaplain’s cross on.”
“That’s my civilian job,” she said. “I’m Guard. I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with 31B.”
“I am.” Russ reached down and hauled Nichols into a standing position. “It’s the MOS for military police. Mr. Nichols isn’t an aviator, are you, Mr. Nichols?”
The man shook his head. On his feet, he was several inches shorter than Russ, but he must have outweighed him by ten, twenty pounds of solid muscle. And Kevin had put him down?
“He’s an MP,” Russ said. Clare scrambled up off the floor.
Nichols eyed him. “You army?”
“I was. A long time ago.” Russ held out his hand to Hadley. “Gimme your clip, Knox.” She frowned but fished it out of her pouch. He turned back to Nichols. “Are you going to give me any more trouble if I cut you loose?”
“No, sir.”
“You don’t have to ‘sir’ me.” Russ snipped the clip through the flexible restraints. “I was a CWO just like you.” He glanced at Clare. “Her, you have to call ma’am, though.” She made a face.
Nichols rubbed his wrists.
“You have any ID?”
Nichols reached for a pocket on the side of his BDUs. “I’m retrieving my billfold.” Russ caught Clare’s flashing look from the corner of his eye.
He took the leather wallet. Twenty bucks. A military police badge. A base ID for Fort Leonard Wood, in Missouri. An Illinois driver’s license with a Chicago address. “You’re a long way from home, Mr. Nichols.” He handed the ID back. “I don’t suppose you’re working a case and just happened to forget to notify the local law enforcement?”
The flat, wary line of Nichols’s mouth widened into an embarrassed grimace. “No.”
“Didn’t think so. Would you care to give your version of events?”
Nichols’s gaze shifted away from Russ. “I’ve been trying to contact Tally-Specialist McNabb-ever since I got back stateside. She didn’t answer my e-mails. Her phone wasn’t working. I decided to take leave and come out here to talk to her in person.”
“Did you know Specialist McNabb was married?”
Nichols kept his eyes straight ahead. “Yes, sir. Chief.”
“And you didn’t think that might be the reason she was ignoring you?”
“She… I was under the impression the marriage was broken, Chief.”
Russ let his silence speak for him.
“It’s not what it sounds like! She wasn’t-” Nichols turned to Clare. “It’s different over there.”
“Yes.” Clare nodded, a small, sober agreement. “It is.”
Russ sighed. “So you came to the Dew Drop-how’d you find out she was here, anyway?”
“Her neighbor gave me a friend’s name and address. The friend told me where I could find her.”
“You flash your badge around to get that information?”
Nichols grimaced. Fresh blood welled out of the cut in his lip. “Yes.” He looked at Russ. “I didn’t set out to do it. It was the only way I could get the neighbor to open her door and talk to me.” His mouth twisted. “I take it seeing a black man on your porch is no common occurrence here in the Great White North.”
Russ opened his mouth. Closed it. “Mr. Nichols, what would you do if a civilian law enforcement officer came onto your post, used his police credentials to question a dependent, and then went to the enlisted men’s club and got into a fight with somebody’s significant other?”
To his credit, Nichols didn’t hesitate. “Arrest him and charge him.”
Russ nodded. “Wait here.” He crossed toward the bar. Hadley met him halfway across the floor, coming from the opposite direction. She looked upset.
“She’s not in the building anymore, Chief.”
“Not anywhere?”
“I checked both restrooms. The second bartender says the door to the storage room out back wasn’t locked, because he’d been hauling kegs in and out. Once you’re in the storage room, you can get out through the delivery door.”
Russ huffed in frustration. “Is she trying to get away from Nichols? Or from her husband?”
“Maybe from you,” Hadley said. “She was hanging around the boyfriend, and she sure didn’t seem afraid of her husband. He yelled something about her getting rid of Nichols, after he was in custody, but she ignored him. She only took off after you and Reverend Clare came in. Maybe she thought you were here to haul her away?”
He glanced back toward Nichols. Clare was still standing there. She was speaking to him in low tones that didn’t carry. As Russ watched, she laid her hand on Nichols’s arm.