Fifteen

The bar was called, quite simply, Jim's, and it was the bar where Cherise Fowler was last seen alive.

Marta Harper was attempting to track her movements in the hours, even days, before her death in the hopes of finding out where she bought the fentanyl—and God knows what other drugs in her system—that had killed her.

She went up to the bar, flashed her badge to the portly man behind the counter with the towel thrown over his shoulder, just like a bartender in the movies would do it, and said, "Need to ask you a few questions."

"Sure," he said.

"You here last night?"

"Yeah, I was on. I'm always on. I stand here and serve drinks all day and all night, go home and sleep for five hours, and then come back and do it all over again. Stop me if I'm making you jealous. This about that girl what died in the alley?"

"Yeah. You Jim?"

"I'm Jim."

Marta's eyebrows went up. "The Jim?"

The man smiled. "Sorry, I don't do autographs. Bought the place nine years ago. Worked in construction and wrecked my back, so I decided to try something different. Now, standing all day, my back's worse than ever and I eat Advils like MM's. "

"Nice spot," Marta said.

"What happened to that poor girl, that's not on me."

"Didn't say it was."

"She only had four drinks last night, which was probably less than her usual. Can I get you something?"

"How about a Coke?"

"Nothing stronger?"

"I wish."

Jim got her a drink and placed it in front of her, setting it perfectly on a paper coaster. "How may I be of further assistance to you today, Detective?"

"Cherise Fowler a regular?"

"Off and on. There was a time there, we didn't see her for a few months. She'd gone to dry out or something. Fat lot of good that did. Booze wasn't her biggest problem. Sometimes she was in here she was high, and when she was, I'd politely encourage her to leave. Once, she's sitting over there and this kid walks in and asks her to come home."

"Her daughter."

"Yeah, sweet kid. Allison, I think her name was." Jim frowned. "What's happening to the kid? Didn't get the sense there was a dad in the picture."

"Gonna live with her aunt, I think."

"Sad."

"What time she come in last night?"

"About eight-thirty, I'd say."

"She sit at the bar or one of the tables?"

"She sat right there." He pointed to the stool next to Marta.

"Alone?"

"At first. She had a couple vodka shots, then played with her phone for a while. Couple guys came over, checking on her availability. I couldn't swear to this, but I think she was making some money on the side by providing certain services. I don't encourage that kind of thing. I don't run that kind of place. We get families in here for the food. Chicken wings, pizza, mozzarella sticks. I got a half-decent cook in the back, so long as you like fried and greasy."

"Sure."

"But you know, when it gets a little later and the kids are tucked in their beds counting sheep, you get a different crowd. Some just want to sit and shoot the shit over a beer, and others are here hoping to find some companionship."

"So, those two guys."

"Right, them. She gave them the brush-off. Had the feeling maybe she was waiting for someone else, because she kept looking at the door all the time."

"Someone show?"

"Yeah. Around ten. Woman."

"A woman?" Marta wasn't expecting that, somehow. "White? Black?"

"White, hundred and twenty pounds or so. Skinny, wiry. Forty, maybe. Thing is, she wasn't here all that long. It was kind of busy then, so it wasn't like I had my eye on them all the time."

"She seem like a girlfriend?"

"Like just a friend, or like more than a friend?"

"You tell me."

"Didn't get any kind of sex vibe. We're not exactly that kind of bar, although times have changed. Everybody kind of goes everywhere now."

He had that right, Marta thought. There were very few lesbian bars anymore.

Jim said, "She wasn't even here long. Had a gin and tonic. Cherise left her for a couple of minutes to go to the john, and when she came back the skinny chick was heading out the door. Didn't wave goodbye or nothin'."

"Cherise stayed."

"Yeah."

"Short meeting. You think she went into the bathroom to take something?"

Jim said, "Didn't exactly follow her in. When she came back I asked if she wanted another drink and she just kind of shook her head. She was spacing out, so yeah, maybe she did take something. It was happening pretty fucking fast, pardon my Lithuanian."

"How was she acting?"

"Like a puppet got its strings cut. Lethargic, having a hard time putting a sentence together, all wobbly-like. Finally, she slides off her stool and starts heading for the door, except she's heading in the wrong direction, toward the dartboard, gonna get a dart in her ear if she's not careful. And then she figures out she's going the wrong way, stops for a second like she's thinking about throwing up, and I'm like, shit, if you're going to do that, can you make it to the sidewalk? She finds the door, and out she goes. And I started thinking, I hope she didn't drive, and even if she didn't, I was a little worried about whether she'd be able to get a cab or an Uber or anything and what someone might do to her in that condition, you get me?"

"I get you."

Marta had already been through Cherise Fowler's phone and checked her emails and texts. She hadn't ordered an Uber. There was one call to her earlier in the evening from a number the detective had not been able to identify. Her guess was a burner phone.

"So I left the bar here for a second and went outside, but by the time I got there, there was no sign of her. She must have wandered into the alley soon as she walked out. Maybe she'd gone in there to puke or something and then passed out." He paused. "That's all she wrote."

"Did you actually see this woman give her anything? Did Cherise give her money?"

Jim shrugged. "No idea. Like I said, it was busy around that time."

"Anything else you can remember?"

He shook his head slowly.

"This woman she met with. She ever been in here before? She a regular?"

"Maybe once or twice."

"How'd she pay?" Marta was hoping the woman had used a credit card, that there would be a record of her name.

Jim shook his head. "Cash. You know, I think she was in here one time with some guy."

"You think if you saw her again, you could give me a call?"

"Yeah, sure," he said. "You got a card?"

She did, and she gave him one.

"What about the guy she came in with? Remember anything about him?"

"Like I said, I think it was just once. They sat over at that table, had something to eat. Guy was short, stocky. Bald. Kind of muscular. But there was something about the two of them."

"What was that?"

"Like she was in charge."

"Married?"

"I don't think so. They talked to each other too much. People been married, they come in and look at their phones."

Marta's eyes scanned upward toward the ceiling. "You got cameras?" she asked.