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Beau shrugged. His bartender scurried away. No doubt, Shaun was off to deliver the message.
And Avalon kept studying Beau. “I agree with your nervous bartender.” She nodded. “Sounds like a bad plan to me. In my personal experience, cops do not enjoy being told to fuck off.” Her lips pursed. “Tried to warn Douglas about this very thing, but did he listen to me? Oh, no.”
He barely caught that last mutter because he was watching the cops as they closed in. They’d stepped around Shaun and were currently heading in Beau’s direction.
Really? Did he look like he had time for this shit?
“So you’re the boss. Not the bartender. Got it.” From Avalon. “LeBlanc’s.” She cleared her throat. “That would make you Beau LeBlanc.” She seemed to taste his name. Savor it. “I don’t suppose that you happen to remember?—”
“Beau LeBlanc!” The man in the stale beige suit flashed a badge. “Detective Jeremy Abbott. This is my partner, Glenn Mayo. We need to ask you some questions.”
“Um, do you?” Absolute boredom from Beau. “Tell me, who did I kill this time?”
Jeremy’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head.
Beau laughed softly. “A joke, gentleman. A joke.” One they clearly had not appreciated. Too bad for them.
Avalon’s short nails tapped on the bar. “Pro tip, cops don’t like it when you joke about murder. Any murder talk tends to make them twitchy.”
His attention shifted back to her. “Too bad. I enjoy joking about it.”
Her lips parted.
“Are you familiar with Everett Thomas?” The question came from the cop identified as Glenn. Slightly balding. Nervous hands. A gaze that flickered a bit too much toward the wall of liquor behind Beau. Sweat dotted Glenn’s brow.
How long you been sober, Glenn? Instead of asking that question, Beau rolled back his shoulders. “I think I saw him on the news.” He let his eyes widen. “Isn’t he the man who killed all those poor women? Such a damn shame.”
Glenn nodded. “We…we’re doing some background work. Got a few questions. You ever remember him coming to your bar?”
Beau gestured toward the packed bar. “Detectives, take a look around. It’s like this every night.” He smiled. “I have zero idea who comes in and out.”
“You got security equipment?” Jeremy pushed. “Cameras?”
“I’m afraid my cameras have been out of order for a while. I do keep meaning to fix things.” Bullshit. Some of his clientele just preferred extreme privacy. So did he.
But I do have cameras now. You just can’t see my footage.
Glenn darted a glance toward the cash register. “You keep a record of all your transactions?”
“Do I look like the IRS?” Beau crossed his arms over his chest. “Credit card receipts. Sure, we got those records. If someone paid in cash—as lots of the people here do—then I am not going to be able to help you much. But feel free to talk to my staff.”
The detectives exchanged a long glance. Nodded. Then they ambled off to talk to some of the waitresses. Who wouldn’t prefer talking to the gorgeous waitresses? And not the growly, always-annoyed bar owner.
He watched them for a moment. Slowly dropped his arms back to his sides. Then turned his head and?—
Avalon’s eyes were on him. “They didn’t try very hard, did they?” A soft sigh slipped from her. “I knew they’d do a piss-poor job. That’s why I had to come in myself.”
The drumming of his heartbeat was even louder in his ears. “I don’t follow.”
“It’s interesting that two detectives come into your bar, they drop the name of the most notorious—and brutal—serial killer to make the headlines in the past five years, and you don’t so much as blink.”
“Was I supposed to blink?” Deliberately, he blinked. “Like that?”
Her nails tapped again. “Aren’t you curious about why they’re asking about him?”
“I’m not curious about many things.” Not a full lie. He was only curious about certain things. Like…her. Beau had always been very, very curious about her.
“Oh, well, I’m curious about everything.”
