Jack held his ground, but to his credit, he refrained from making any threatening gestures. “It’s possible my sister didn’t kill anybody.”
Scally Cap shifted his weight to his heels, assessing Jack anew as if he didn’t know what to make of him. “Who the hell are you?” he asked. His voice wasn’t quite angry, but it wasn’t pleased-to-meet-you either.
“I’m Jack Francone. I’m Penny’s brother. And you’re Russell Harrison,” Jack said quickly. “You own the place. I Googled you. Saw your picture. These guys…” He pointed to the other men. “I don’t know.”
“And why you looking me up, son?” Russell said, this time more threateningly, which inspired the beefiest of his three companions to stand.
“It’s my daughter, Penny,” Grace interjected quickly, fearing Jack would reveal too much about his doxing expedition. “We’ve uncovered new information about the murder … and as Jack was saying, we think there’s a possibility that Penny may be innocent. We’re hoping to talk to Rachel’s friends, people who knew her, might uncover information for the police that might help them catch the real killer.”
A twisted grin curled Russell’s top lip, giving Grace a flash of his yellowed upper teeth.
“That crazy girl … your daughter…” He said it languidly. “She killed my dear, dear friend.” Russell’s whole demeanor turned two shades darker. “I’ve known Rachel my whole life. She grew up here; neighborhood girl. Her father was a union carpenter, damn fine one. Helped build this bar. She had a job here anytime she wanted it. I thought of her as a daughter.
“Now, I don’t know how you went digging up your information on Rachel and me, and I’m not going to grace you with any answers to whatever questions you have. I won’t be of any help to you at all. So I strongly suggest the three of you turn yourselves around,” he twirled his index finger to mimic the gesture he wanted, “and mosey on out of here. Capeesh?”
He pointed to the door.
“Sir—” Annie began, but Grace gripped her arm—hard.
“Okay, Russell,” said Grace as she pulled Annie toward the door, with Jack following. “We won’t trouble you anymore. And I’m sorry for your loss.”
Outside in the gray gloom, which perfectly echoed Grace’s mood, the trio headed for Annie’s SUV parked at the end of the block. Grace was about to open the passenger-side door, when she heard a voice call out: “Hold up a sec, will ya?”
Turning, Grace laid eyes on the striking bartender, who appeared to have emerged from the alleyway between Lucky Dog and the adjacent convenience store. “I was hoping to catch you,” she said in a resonate voice layered with a local accent. “Told Russell I had to do inventory and snuck out the back.” Only now did Grace realize she was breathing hard and might have sprinted to catch up with them. “Russell is actually a really good guy,” she said. “A real teddy bear type, but he can be a prick sometimes, too.”
“His anger is understandable,” said Grace. “We’re all devastated. What’s your name?”
“Morgan. Name’s Morgan.” She put out her hand and Grace shook hello. Annie and Jack did the same. “I … um, wanted to catch up with you.” She glanced back to see if Russell or someone was coming before returning her attention to Grace. “The reason is … my sister, Jacqueline … Jackie … she’s got problems, mental problems.” Morgan pointed to her head as if Grace wouldn’t know where those problems would originate. “Schizophrenia,” she clarified.
“Oh,” said Grace, unsure how to respond.
“She’s doing okay, I mean…” Morgan shrugged her shoulders. “She’s not great, but you know, she’s got a life. Look, I know about your daughter because of Rachel and all, but … but mental illness scares people because they don’t really know about it, it’s different—the head stuff, ya know?”
Grace nodded. She understood better than most.
“But really, people like Jackie are going to hurt themselves before they’d hurt someone else. I’ve looked up the statistics. It’s just … they get judged a lot. I know it looks real bad for your kid, but if you think she didn’t do it, I mean, the least we can do is try to answer your questions.”
Annie, always one to take charge, asked the first question. “Anything you can tell us about Rachel … did you know her well?”