In Hell: When Love Kills A Small Town Mystery

Chapter 2

"No credit this time, pal. I'm losing my shirt on you and a boxcar of others just like you," Mickey said, wiping the bar with a gray towel that had started life as sparkling white. "Sorry, man. I really am. And no hard feelings, eh? I just can't afford to carry you anymore. Times being what they are. Nothing personal, mind you. I just gotta make a buck now and then. You know what I mean? They don't let me keep the lights on in this joint for free, you know."

Cash dropped his head, jammed his hand into his jeans pocket abdplaced some bills on the counter.

"Who died and left you in the will?" Mickey asked.

He smiled and said nothing. Mickey served him a beer and a shot of Jameson's. Cash nodded his thanks, downing the shot and taking his beer to the back of the room. A couple more customers entered.

"What's your poison?" Mickey asked.

Mickey's was a dive located deep in woods, smack-dab in the middle of nowhere. The jukebox was loud and fights were as common as mosquitoes after heavy rains – one of those dives as welcoming as it is unclean. The old screen door slammed a sorry beat as patrons came and went.

The pool table was commandeered by Call Bricker and Cash. They played a few games and sat by the table, cues in hand. Supper was club sandwiches and beers with Cash paying the tab. It was a pretty quiet night for once.

It was near closing time when Mickey smelled the first hint of trouble. He heard Cash swear and watched as he slammed his pool cue onto the table. Mickey tensed for trouble but relaxed when he saw the young man hand over a wad of bills which Call proudly stuffed into his pocket.

Who had Cash robbed?

Mickey turned his attention to counting his own wad of crumpled bills from the till. He emptied the change from the tip jar and threw the money into a cloth sack. He was softly humming a tune when he heard the voices at the pool table grow louder.

Mickey heard Call curse.

The look on Cash's face warned him that something was about to happen. Cash threw the first punch. Mickey dove under the bar and grabbed the baseball bat he kept hidden but within easy reach. Mickey sailed over the bar and headed toward the two men.

Call was stunned, but not so badly that he failed to see Cash wind up again. Call ducked low and threw a bruising left into Cash's stomach, He followed that with an iron right that landed squarely on Cash's chin. Cash staggered back, scattering the cheap wooden chairs and tables in his wake. His bright blue eyes rolled back into his head. Cash was out before his head hit the floor.

Mickey knew he had to act quickly. He cleared the place, telling the bleary-eyed patrons to get out before the cops arrived. Like the others, Call grabbed his coat and happily obeyed.

Cash was still lying on his back, a thin rivulet of bloody drool draining from his mouth. The lumbering bar owner shook his head. He looked over his establishment. Thank goodness there wasn't much damage. At least, the pool table wasn't wrecked. Only one chair was smashed. No great loss. Mickey started straightening up. He swept a tooth into the dustpan. He finished up and cut off the lights. He was dead tired and wanted to go home.

Oh well, he thought, just another night.

Tomorrow, it would be business as usual. The bar owner wasn't shocked to see a patrol car pull up and park in the dirt lot the next day. Mickey hadn't called them but he knew word got around.

"Is that Cash's truck out front," asked the deputy?

"Yeah."

"We've been looking for him."

"You have?"

"Yeah. 'Fraid I got some bad news."

"What kind of news," said Mickey.

"The worst, I guess. Clifford was murdered."

"Jesus," said the bar owner. "How? When?"

"Yesterday – late afternoon, early evening," said Jamie. "We're looking for Cash."

"Is he a suspect?"

"Maybe."

"Yesterday, huh. He didn't do it," said Mickey.

"You let us be the judge of that. Where's Cash? In the toilet?"

"Cash was here, Jamie. All day. From early morning. For once, he seemed flushed. Actually paid his tab. I couldn't believe my good fortune."

"Where did he get the dough?"

"Don't know. Gambling, probably. Anyway, he lost it to Call Montgomery. They got into a row about that. It was really something to see. Call beat the heck out of Cash. And that's why he was here all night."

"How can you be sure?" Jamie asked.

"See for yourself," Mickey said, grabbing the key to the back storeroom.