Rustles

Part 11

“No,” she said firmly, “I won’t get involved in this.”

He bowed a little. “Alright, then we’re done talking.” He waved her to go open the door.

“You can’t stay here – I can’t have the bar be related with you in any way!”

“I wasn’t going to. Oh, and loose the heels – they’ll want you to come after me.” He smiled and waved towards the door again. “It’s not so pretty.” He said with his smile widening.

He was right, she didn’t want to watch him do it. She left to front and began drying glasses Matteo had neatly gathered on the farther edge of the counter. Matteo hated drying finery, she hated washing the floors – both were happy.

She couldn’t forget the man in the back and wondered how big hole will be left after mole of such proportions dug the floor up.

A hole!

She began swearing under her breath and ran back. She flew the door open and stared at the empty room. There was indeed half a meter wide hole right next to the granite. She quickly started pushing the dirt back in it and began stumping on it until it looked nice and firm from far. She knew it wouldn’t fool anyone if they’d look closer, but until she had time to properly cover it up, it had to do. After five minutes of constant work and finally agreeing with the outcome, she pushed herself up, went back to front and washed her hands under warm flow of water.

She was about to reach for the towel, when she saw from the mirror how Sergeant Isley entered the bar with his two companions. They had guns and bullet vests on. But this time they looked like policemen.

She bit her lips. Matteo didn’t like police. They had the policy to help the forced security, but that was as far as either of their love for blue uniform went. Many of the customers stared at them, too, making it more obvious why they carried guns all the time. But she guessed they couldn’t go running around in military uniforms. She doubted if that would have brought them more love around here.

“Which way did he go?” Isley didn’t bother to be polite.

“Through the back and to the left.” She tossed the towel back on the side of the sink.

“Who?” Matteo stared at both of them with growing concern.

“We had a little thief.” She lied quickly, knowing it will backfire in less than a…

“And you didn’t tell me?”

At least he was arguing, she retorted. “He already got away and we cant’ go hunting him down on the street. Police can.”

“What did he get?”

“The bugger took some beers and boss’s wine!”

“Oh…” his eyebrows flew up and landed down in deep frown. She was lying her teeth out and he knew it. She saw it from his face he knew it.

“I’ll explain it later.” She promised quietly and received a hidden nod. Then she turned to sergeant and earned a scorning frown.

Nice! She thought, but quietly flipped out of her shoes, leaving them this time in place where she could come and pick them up later.

“We’ll need you to come and show us, where you saw him run.” Silver sounded official, far cry from the soldier she had heard before.

“Yes, of course.” She came out from the bar, asked Matteo to cover for her and lead them back out, then on the left side of the house.

The moment they got in the alley, sergeant grabbed her elbow and pulled her to stop. “You’ve been spreading the news?” he said.

“No, I have not!” she pushed his arm away. “How many would believe a story about crazies digging through ground? By my counting – none! I’ll come up with something less elaborate,” she stepped away from his reach, “tooth aching pirate hopping on one leg after booze perhaps?” she murmured, trying sensing any vibrations nearby. Some other time, maybe.