“I’m not buying Victoria a car.”
Bobby paused for a moment.
“Does this have anything to do with what happened in Minneapolis last night?” he asked.
“You know about that?”
“Of course I do. McKenzie, what have you got yourself into this time?”
I explained while I watched the cherry red Acura. When I finished, the only question Bobby asked was “Heavenly Petryk is back in town?” When I confirmed that she had indeed returned, he said, “Better Rask’s problem than mine. Although…”
“Although what?”
“She is a fetching lass.”
“Are you going to help me or what?”
“What do you want, McKenzie?”
I recited the license plate number of the SUV that was tailing me and asked for the owner’s name.
“Do you need this in a hurry?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so; otherwise you wouldn’t be gabbing this long on the phone. I swear, McKenzie, you don’t get out enough.”
The first thing I saw when I walked through Rickie’s front door was Nina Truhler standing behind the stick, one end of a bar towel draped over her shoulder while she polished the inside of a glass with the other end. She could have been a stereotypical bartender from an old Western movie—“Hiya, Kid, what’ll ya have?”—except, had any bartender ever looked that good, ever?
I slipped off my coat—I had locked the Beretta in my Jeep Cherokee because Nina didn’t like guns in her place—and went directly to the bar. I pounded the top of it with the flat of my hand and said, “Barkeep, I want whiskey and fresh horses for me and my men.”
Nina smiled a sad sort of smile and covered my hand with hers.
“What?” I said.
“McKenzie, are you okay?”
I was surprised by her concern.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“What happened last night?”
“Just the usual confusion and chaos, why do you ask?”
Nina looked toward the far corner of the club. I followed her gaze over the heads of the large crowd eating lunch at the club’s small tables to where Heavenly Petryk was sitting. She was alone in the booth nearest the staircase. The expression on her face suggested that she didn’t have a friend in the world.
“How long has she been here?” I asked.
“I don’t know. She was here when I arrived.”
“Has she been drinking?”
“She was until we cut her off. I’ve been making her drink coffee for the past hour. I tried to get her to eat something, but she won’t have it. She’s hurting, McKenzie.”
“Did she tell you that?”
“I’ve owned a bar for a long time.”
“What did she tell you?”
“She said a friend of hers was killed last night. She said it was her fault.”
“Yeah, well, there’s plenty of blame to go around.”
“What happened?”
I explained, leaving nothing out.
“You killed Tommy?” Nina said.
“I threw him into the street and he was hit by a car. The car killed him. Technically, you could blame the driver. In Minnesota, the law demands that you have complete control of your vehicle at all times.”
“McKenzie.”
“Yeah, I killed him.”
Not once during our conversation did Nina remove her hand from mine. Now she squeezed it tight.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“It shouldn’t have happened. I didn’t mean for it to happen. That stupid kid, trying to act tough…”
“It’s okay.”
“No, Nina, it isn’t. The things I’ve done—this is the life I chose, and mostly I’m happy with it, mostly I sleep pretty well at night. Yet this was so senseless, so unnecessary.”
“Tommy made a choice, too, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, he made a choice.”
I brought my free hand up and set it on top of Nina’s hand on top of my hand.
“Do you want something to eat before you talk to her or after?” Nina asked.
“Why should I talk to her?”
“Go now. We’ll have lunch later.”
“What’s this sudden concern with Heavenly Petryk’s welfare?”
Nina shrugged.
“You like her, don’t you?” I said.
“I hate to see anyone suffer.”
I gave her hand a hard squeeze. “You have the kindest heart,” I said. “No wonder ghosts like to hang out here.”
Heavenly’s eyes told me everything I needed to know. Normally, they sparkled like liquid azurite, yet now they were dull and bloodshot and took a moment to focus when I sat in the booth across from her.
“McKenzie,” she said. “I knew you’d come by sooner or later.”
“Where are your boys?”
“They have lost their enthusiasm for the task at hand.”
“They left you?”
“Sooner or later men always leave me.”
“Give me your keys.”
“Huh?”
I reached across the table with an open hand.
“The keys to your car,” I said. “Give them to me.”
“I’m fine.”
“Give me the keys to your car or I’m leaving. You came here to talk to me, right?”
“McKenzie…”