“I've heard you have really good potato skins,” I tell her.
She nods. “Best in the area. Do you want bacon?”
“Sure.”
“I'll get that right up for you,” she says and turns to disappear into the kitchen.
The other bartender glances in my direction.
“Are you new around here?” she asks.
“Just got here, as a matter of fact,” I confirm.
“I thought so. Don't think I've seen you around here before.”
“You get a lot of regulars?” I ask.
She nods. “We tend to know people's faces.”
“I bet you get a lot of people coming in to see the two of you behind the bar,” I chuckle.
It does the trick. Her icy demeanor thaws with a smile as she tries to look away humbly. But it's obvious her high opinion of herself is well-supported.
“I guess,” she says. “More for Andrea.”
She reaches for a cup and fills it with water from the soda fountain.
“Oh?” I ask, accepting the cup as she slides it across the bar to me.
“People just can't seem to get enough of her. She gets all the tips, and guys swarm in here just to sit around and talk to her. Sometimes I feel like the only reason I get any attention at all is because of runoff from her.”
To her credit, the dark-haired woman laughs.
“Anyone in particular?” I ask. “I know you said there are a lot of regulars who come around here, but is there any one specific guy who seems to be around more than others?”
The question could go either way. Either she's going to think I'm just getting in some gossipy girl talk in my new town and indulge me, or she's going to think I'm prying and get suspicious. I'm going to hope for the former.
“Well,” the bartender starts, leaning toward me in a way that says she's going that direction, “there is this one guy. He's come in a few times and seems really fixated on her. Doesn't say much and only ever orders bourbon. Just one, nothing to eat. He sits in the corner and just watches her.”
My interest perks up.
“That sounds intriguing,” I say, trying not to give away my curiosity. “Do you know who he is?”
She shakes her head.
“He doesn't talk. I don't even know his name. But I saw Andrea meet up with him after work in the alley behind the bar. She didn't know I was looking, and I saw her get into his car and ride off.”
The kitchen door opens, and the other bartender straightens up sharply. Andrea eyes us suspiciously.
“What are the two of you talking about?” she asks.
The dark-haired girl smiles. “Just your admirer who likes to sit at the bar and watch you work.”
Andrea shakes her head at the teasing. “He's not my admirer. He just likes to come drink a bourbon at the end of the day sometimes. Besides, I've told you, I think he comes to watch you, not me.”
Flashing me a knowing look, the other bartender swishes off to talk to a couple who have just come in and perched themselves on the opposite side of the bar. Andrea sets a huge plate of potato skins in front of me, and the smell of bacon, sour cream, and cheese almost counteracts my fullness.
“Don't listen to her,” Andrea says. “Kenley just likes to come up with dramatic, romantic stories to keep herself entertained.”
“So, this mystery guy really isn't anybody?” I ask.
“Just a guy like any other customer who comes in. He shows up a little more often than some of the others, but I think that's just because he's lonely, maybe. Doesn't have anybody to go home to, you know? Even though he doesn't say much or interact with anybody, he can come here and feel like he's part of something. At least he's not sitting home and drinking his bourbon alone.”
“You have a point,” I tell her. I glance around, taking in the rest of the bar. “So, tell me about this place.”
“What do you want to know?” she asks.
“Anything you can tell me,” I say with a laugh. “Just trying to get a feel for the area.”
“Well, there isn't much going on around here. Not that I'm complaining. I love it around here,” she tells me.
“Did you grow up here?” I ask.
“Born and raised,” she smiles.
“What about the surrounding areas? I saw a sign for somewhere called Feathered Nest. What's that all about?”
She looks slightly taken aback by the question, but quickly brushes off the reaction and shakes her head.
“I don't really know anything about it. I don't spend time out there or really know anyone from there. Well, I should leave you to your potato skins. The lunch rush will be starting soon. I don't like when it takes me by surprise.”
Andrea gives me another warm smile and walks away. I watch her go up to Kenley and place her hand on her back as she leans around to talk to the couple. Taking out my phone, I pretend to be invested in something on it while I continue watching what's going on around me. Andrea is obviously hiding something. She doesn't want to talk about Feathered Nest or about getting in the car with LaRoche after he visits. That in and of itself isn't all that unusual. By the way they were acting in the hotel, I wouldn't jump right to calling their relationship out in the open. She wants to keep it to herself, but it seems like more than that. Not revealing her actual connection to the mystery man showing up at the bar is one thing. Pretending she doesn't know anyone from a nearby town when I know for a fact she's seeing someone there is suspicious.
After almost an hour at the bar, I manage to make progress on two of the potato skins. Andrea comes back over and looks at the plate through narrowed eyes.
“You didn't like them?” she asks.
“They’re delicious,” I protest. “I guess I just wasn't as hungry as I thought I was.”
She picks up the plate. “Do you want me to put them in a box for you?”
“That would be great. Thanks.”
As she carries the food back into the kitchen, I take out money and toss it on the bar. I accept the box from her, and she slides the money into the pocket of the small apron tied low around her hips.
“I hope you'll stop in again sometime soon,” she smiles.
“Maybe I will,” I tell her. “Have a good day.”
Kenley turns around, and we wave at each other before I step back out into the cold afternoon. I reach behind me to put the box on the back seat and feel a sharp pain in the heel of my hand. My breath hisses through my teeth as I snap my hand back and hold it in my other palm to examine where the pain was. Something's glittering in my skin, and a trickle of blood bubbles up around it. Using my fingernail, I gently pry the glittering piece away to find a small shard of glass. Pulling it out causes more blood to slip down my hand and onto my wrist. Muttering a few profanities, I lean across the car to open the glove compartment in search of a tissue.
Once I have my hand wrapped, I turn around to look in the back seat. I haven't put anything glass back there since getting in the car. Is it possible one of the windows is broken, and I just didn't notice when coming out of the bar? Shards of glass in various sizes scattered across the seat look like they could have come from something shattering, but it's not vehicle window glass. All the windows are intact. I climb out of the car and test both back doors. They're locked. I know I unlocked the driver's side door before getting in, and the passenger door is secured as well. All that's left is the trunk. I try to open it, but it doesn't budge.
Getting back in the car, I lock my door and head for Feathered Nest. In any other circumstances, I'd go right to the police to show them the strange event. But that's not an option now. Someone's leaving me a message, and I'm on my own to find out what it means.