shook her head. ‘No, thank you.’
‘Are you sure?’ It might keep your knees from the cold tiles in the men’s room.
Jo nodded. ‘Positive. But you can give me a few quarters for the jukebox.’
‘Sure,’ said Ren, opening her wallet.
Jo heaved herself up and walked over to the jukebox, her eyes struggling with the swimming print. ‘Any preferences, Billy boy?’ she called out.
‘Ladies’ choice,’ he said, taking a clean towel from under the bar.
Jo put her money in and the music cranked up. Nothing Ren knew started to play.
‘What can I get you?’ he said to Ren.
‘Let me see,’ she said, getting up and walking toward him. ‘Uh, bottle of Coors … Coke … Coors. Yeah, Coors. Thanks.’
‘I’m a friend of Jean’s. Jean –’
‘I guessed,’ said Billy. He turned his back to her and grabbed the beer from the fridge. He handed it to her and glanced over toward Jo. The last trace of her was a slight swing to the men’s room door.
‘Why don’t you take a seat over there,’ said Billy, pointing the opposite way.
Ren took her beer and a seat in a far corner of the bar. Billy showed up five minutes later and stood by the table.
‘Hi. I’m Ren Bryce. Not Rachel.’ She smiled.
‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I’m Billy Waites.’
‘You heard about Jean?’
He nodded.
Ren waited for condolences or something to replace the indifference. Nothing.
‘I’m investigating her murder,’ said Ren.
Billy nodded. She could see his boredom gauge like a thermometer and the mercury was rising. A few more sentences and the bulb would blow.
Billy Waites was staring at the wall, his brow furrowed, his lips almost pouting. Ren studied his arms. They were tanned, well worked out. She looked at his hands – strangely long-fingered with clean, buffed nails. On his right wrist was a tattoo – two words and what looked like a date. He turned back to her. Her breath caught.
‘I’d like to know if there’s anything you could tell me that might help the investigation,’ she said.
He shot her a bemused look. ‘What would I know?’
‘When was the last time she came in to you?’
‘January fifteenth,’ said Billy. ‘It was a Monday night.’
‘What time?’
He thought about it. ‘Six thirty.’
‘She came in here?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, that makes you – for now – the last person to see her alive,’ said Ren.
Billy let out an angry breath, shook his head, rolled his eyes. ‘Fuck that.’
‘What’s your problem?’
‘You know what? I was cool doing whatever for her, OK? A quiet little visit every couple weeks, no harm done, no big interference in my life, my chance to pay back whatever debt you guys will hold me to for life, probably. I’m a lot less cool about being here with you and knowing that Breckenridge is crawling with law enforcement. I know how you guys work. I know how desperately you will want to take a cop killer off the streets, or how desperately you want to take at least someone who can look like one in a mug shot … How do you like this?’ He opened his eyes wide and bared his teeth.
‘Look, this is not about you, OK?’ said Ren. ‘This is about the murder of one of my colleagues. I couldn’t give a fucking shit about Billy fucking Waites, OK?’
‘Nice.’
‘I just want all the information that’s out there on all the cases Jean was working on and all the people she came in contact with in the last few whatever – months, years, whatever it takes. You may be able to help me with that. What was she coming to you for?’
He shrugged. ‘Hard to tell. She comes in, asks me questions, I answer them or tell her what shit I’ve heard. I have no idea what she’s doing with that information after.’
‘And what had you heard recently?
‘Not a lot.
‘Look, this is fairly easy, OK? What. Did. She. Want. You. To …’
‘Right there,’ said Billy, ‘right there is how you’re going to charm me.’
‘Listen to me, you fu—’
‘We’re done,’ said Billy.
‘No,’ said Ren. ‘No, we’re not. You owe Jean.’
Billy tilted his head. ‘Were you two close?’
Ren paused. ‘She was a brilliant, talented agent –’
‘Oh, say can that star-spangled banner …’ He spoke the words.
Ren stared through him.
‘I’m not surprised you weren’t close,’ said Billy.
‘What makes you say that?’ said Ren.
‘Why are you all defensive?’ said Billy.
‘I’m just wondering,’ said Ren.
‘You care now what Billy fucking Waites says?’
Ren sighed and got up. ‘This is bullshit.’
‘Damn right it is.’
‘Billy,’ shouted one of the old guys at the bar, waving a drunken arm around, ‘keep your mind on the job. People need beers.’
Billy smiled tightly and pushed himself upright. ‘People need beers,’ he said.
‘They always do,’ said Ren. She followed him back to the bar. He looked at her like she was nuts.
‘OK,’ said Billy. ‘Was I the last person to see her alive? Maybe the last you know of. Maybe the ninth last you know of. You know the killer is the last. And I, at least, know that’s not me. You’ll get there, though.’
‘You think so?’ said Ren.
‘You look smart enough,’
