“Well, this is a surprise.” He squints at me, too cool to be discomfited. “What time is it?”
I look at my watch. “Ten thirty.”
“Didn’t get out of the bar until four,” he says.
“Sorry to bother you so early.”
He makes no move to open the door; he just stands there looking loose and relaxed, so I add, “I’m working on the Aden Karn case, Jimmie. I have a few questions, if you have a minute. May we come inside?”
I see him mentally tally the condition of his house—trying to remember if he left anything he’d rather I not see in plain sight. It takes him half a minute to decide. “I think that would be all right.” He slants a sideways look at Mona.
“Hey, Jimmie.” She smiles.
One side of his mouth lifts as he recognizes her and I realize she’s frequented the Brass Rail and been served drinks by him.
He takes us to a small living room furnished with a sofa, a chair, and a TV the size of a truck. He motions us to the sofa, then goes to the chair, lifts a pair of jeans off the arm, turns his back to us, and slips them on. “Sorry,” he mutters.
Mona and I avert our gazes. I feel her cast a grin in my direction, but I don’t look at her.
“So what do you want to know?”
I turn, and even though I don’t lower my eyes, I can see he’s still zipping up, not the least bit embarrassed.
“You know who Aden Karn is?” I ask.
“I know who he is.” When his pants are buttoned and zipped, he takes the chair. “I know he’s the one got killed.”
I take the sofa, lean forward, put my elbows on my knees. “You heard anything about that?”
“Not really. People are surprised mostly.”
“How well did you know him?”
“Just seen him in the bar. Last six months or so, he was a regular. Drank a lot of Heineken. Liked to dance. Play pool. Smoke cigarettes out back.”
“You ever see him with anyone?”
“He came in once or twice with his pals from work. You know, that construction crew.”
“Anyone else?”
“Came in with some Amish dudes a few times. I mean, they weren’t dressed like pilgrims, but you can tell they’re Amish.” He touches his hair, gives a half smile. “Fuckin’ Dutch boy haircuts crack me up.”
“You ever see him with a woman?”
“I seen him with plenty of women. Dude never came in with one, but he never left alone.”
Wayne Graber’s reluctance to talk about it scrolls through the back of my mind. “English women?”
“A different one every time.”
“You ever have any problems with him? Arguments? Or fights?”
The bartender’s eyes sharpen on mine. “I never saw anything inside. I mean, I’m behind the bar and stay pretty busy. Most of the guys who come in are well-behaved. Especially the Amish.”
I can tell by the way his eyes skitter away that there’s something there. He’s not trying to hide it, but he wants me to work for it. “What about outside?” I ask, knowing that’s where some of the problems occur because I’ve responded to a fight call once or twice myself.
“You’re not asking me to break the bartender’s code of silence, are you?”
Next to me, Mona clears her throat.
I hold his gaze, wait.
Jimmie looks away, considering, then nods. “Karn drank too much, and he couldn’t handle his booze. Got shit-faced on a regular basis. Whatever female he was with usually drank too much, too. Most of the time, it was harmless stuff. Young people acting a fool. A spilled drink. Smoking in the bathroom. A little pelvis grinding on the dance floor.” He sighs. “A few weeks ago, I heard things got carried away out in the parking lot.”
“How so?”
“He took a girl out there. To his buddy’s car, you know. And they started going at it in the back seat.”
Next to me, Mona leans closer.
“You mean they were having sex?” I ask.
“Might’ve started out that way; I don’t know. But they ended up getting into a knock-down, drag-out fight. She must have said no or changed her mind, because Karn got pissed.” He grimaces. “Real pissed. We’re talking Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Next thing I know this chick rushes into the bar, shirt ripped half off. She’s drunk and crying, face all smeared. She was marked up, too.”
“What kind of marks?”
He shrugs. “Scratches from what I could see. From him pawing at her.”
“Did he hit her?”
“I asked. She said no, but her face was marked up.”
“Black eye? Cut lip?”
“Didn’t see either of those things. She got hostile when I pushed, so I backed off.”
“So he assaulted her?” Mona asks.
Jimmie shifts his gaze to her. “I didn’t see it happen and no one would say, but judging from the way she looked, I’d say he roughed her up good.”
“Did you talk to Karn?” I ask.
Another grimace, this one darker. “Look, I know that kid’s gone and I ain’t one to talk poorly of the dead. But when he drank, all that boy-next-door bullshit went out the window. I been around the block a few times and I got a lot of tolerance for a lot of shit. I see it go down and I look the other way. The one thing I won’t abide is a man putting his hands on a woman. So, yeah, I went out to the parking lot and I had a little talk with that son of a bitch.”
“And how did that go?” I ask.
“He calmed down real fuckin’ quick.” His eyes flick left to the hallway that leads to the rear of the house.
I follow his stare to a baseball bat leaning against the wall. It’s been carved with what looks like a gargoyle head on the business end.
“Do you know this woman’s name?” I ask.
“I asked around. One of the waitresses said her name is Mandi Yoder.”
The name pings in my memory as I write it down. A few months ago, one of my officers took a call when an Amish woman, walking alongside Highway 62 after dark, was struck by a vehicle. She suffered only minor injuries and was transported to the hospital. Only later did we learn that the incident was a possible suicide attempt.
“Amish?” I ask.
“She wasn’t dressed Amish, but she had that look about her.”
“Age?”
“Too young to be alone in a car with that sack of shit Karn.”
I’ve heard Jimmie described as having a “scary stare.” When the situation gets tense, he doesn’t blink. He doesn’t look away. Or back down to anyone. If someone told me a set of eyes could tear someone’s heart out of their chest, I’d think of Jimmie.
“Karn catch any flak for that?” I ask.
“Not that I heard.”
“He get into fights with anyone else?” I ask. “Any other women?”
“Not that I heard, but the Rail’s a big place, especially the parking lot. We’re all about our clientele at the Rail, if you know what I mean. We keep it dark out there for a reason.”
* * *
“Jimmie has a slightly different take on Karn, doesn’t he?” Mona says as we walk to the Explorer.
“Bartenders see people at their worst,” I say as I open the door and slide behind the wheel. “They’re like cops that way.”