“If you think of anything else about that girl, give me a call,” said Fiona. Maybe the hot sun was affecting Brewster’s memory. He might remember something down the line.
He nodded and turned the saw back on.
In the car Olympia said, “My-oh-my, Fiona, what a collection of interesting men friends you have, and you’ve only been here a short time.”
Fiona looked at her. “Are you going to hit on all of them?”
“Why Fiona Marlowe, you aren’t jealous, are you?”
Fiona laughed. “Not me. But you were sure drooling over Jake, then Hoover, now Brewster.”
Olympia laughed with her. “I just flirt sometimes.”
“You are too much.”
“You’ve known that for years.”
“Let’s check out the Animal Head Saloon and have drink. It must be close to happy hour.”
“Now you’re talking.”
They parked on the street and checked out the windows in a few of the shops nearby since it was past closing time. The front of the Animal Head was not what either of them would have called trendy. It had a collection of neon beer signs and a fingerprint smeared glass entrance door.
“Here we go,” said Fiona, feeling like she was about to enter a scene from a sci-fi movie, and they were the alien invaders. Maybe they were.
A few construction worker types sat at the bar. Peanut shells littered the floor. They stopped and surveyed the scene. A few of the booths, dolled out in red plastic seats, were occupied.
The bar waitress shouted, “Seat yourself, ladies.”
Fiona said, “Let’s see, do we want to see the wide screen TV or the pool tables?”
“Let’s sit at the bar. This one looks like good material. This is real local color. Maybe these guys know something about bones and fires.”
Olympia never discriminated about the people she met. Construction workers or corporate executives were all the same to her. Fiona joined her on the next bar stool over.
“What’ll you gals have?” asked the bar waitress, slapping down a paper coaster in front of each.
Fiona said, “Red wine for me.”
“Same” said Olympia.
Olympia turned to the guy on her left. “Hi, there. Are you guys local?”
He shook his head. He was having shots and beer and heaved back a shot. He squeezed his eyes shut while the shot settled in his gullet then slugged down a beer chaser. “We’re passing through. We’re on our way to work a big commercial gold mine down in Nevada near Battle Mountain.”
“Gold?” said Fiona, leaning forward to see him. “Have you ever heard that they mined gold around here?”
“Never heard that. Up to John Day and Canyon City and east is where the gold was in these parts.”
Fiona’s cell phone rang, and she answered while Olympia continued her conversation with the gold miner.
“This is Brewster. One more thing about that girl. She said she had relations in Rocky Point is the reason she came through here sometimes. She didn’t say who they were.”
“Are you going to tell me her name? Maybe I can find her relatives and see if she’s gone missing.”
“Pattie Smith is her name.”
Fiona wrote the name on a napkin. “Smith covers a lot of territory. That’s going to be a hard one. If we can find her relations we might be able to cross her off the missing list.” She was probably chasing the wrong lead, but you never knew when one thing would lead to another.
Lauren Brooks walked in soon after and sat down beside Fiona.
“I have something important to tell you about Brewster. The usual for me,” she said to the bartender lady.
“I talked to him this afternoon,” said Fiona. “He’s a hard guy to figure. Has he ever hit on you?”
“He hits on everybody. He’s notorious for loving and leaving them. He’s also had a few husbands plenty mad at him.”
The waitress set a pint of dark beer before Lauren.
“Brewster’s woven quite a web for himself in Rocky Point.”
“Yes, and he hasn’t been here that long. Notorious is the word that comes to mind when one speaks of him. I could fill a book with his exploits, but there is one I think you should know about. Rumor has it that he was involved with one of Hank Little’s wives. Have you heard about them?”
“I sure have. They haven’t found the remains, have they? Or at least that is what I heard at Opal’s get together last weekend.”
“No, and my bet is that they never will. I never could figure out what his wives saw in that little weasel. Must have had a big pecker.”
Fiona was in mid-sip on that one and tried to not snort her wine all over the bar. “Now the real story comes out. I can see you are the one I need to talk to.”
“Honey, you wouldn’t believe what I hear working in the home furnishing business in this small town.”
“If the wives had such a nice toy at home what’s Brewster’s attraction?”
“I’m just speculating about the toy. Have you seen Hank Little?”
Fiona shook her head.
“He is the ugliest, meanest, poorest excuse for a man, you’d ever seen. Yet he attracts not one, but two pretty women and then they disappear on him. I can understand why they’d want to leave him, but the funny part is, they disappear and no one has heard from them. Like right off the face of the Earth. Brewster’s part is the second wife. He did some work for them out at that big spread Little has. Then the rumors start about the wife going in and out of Brewster’s house.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Maybe mean old Hank found out and canned the second wife. Don’t know why he did away with the first one. Maybe for the same reason.”
“Do you think he wrapped them in an old sheet and buried them in the bank of a hot spring? There are more bones found than fit one body.”
“I heard that and I don’t know. I’m just telling you that Brewster may know more than he is letting on.”
“What’s the name of the second wife?”
“Bonnie Tucker. She’s from a local family, and she has loads of relatives that want to see old Hank done in.”
“This is complicated. Brewster hasn’t told me any of this.”
Lauren laughed. “I guess not. He generates more rumors with his behavior than a Hollywood celebrity.”
Olympia was now drinking shots and beer with the boys at the bar, and they were getting louder and louder.
“Excuse my friend,” said Fiona to Lauren. “She gets carried away sometimes. We better leave. Is there another place we could go to dinner?”
“Across the street is the Old Towne Brew Pub. It’s cute and has a limited menu but decent food, like burgers and salads.”
Fiona paid the bill. “Olympia, we’re bar hopping this evening. We’re going to another place for dinner. Say good-bye to your new friends.”
“Hey, these guys are okay,” said Olympia. “Did you know that Nevada is filled with gold mines? These boys make good money. It’s a great set up.”
“No, I didn’t know that,” said Fiona. “Come, Olympia, we’re leaving.” She gently tugged Olympia from the bar stool.
“Here’s my card,” said Olympia, giving the shots and beer guy her business card. “You call when you get the next hot tip in the gold market.”
Olympia danced off the stool and out the door. No music was playing to accompany her.
The trio made it to the Old Towne Brew Pub but weren’t seated five minutes when the gold mining crew came in and found Olympia. They sat at the next booth, and Olympia joined them. Soon after, a woman in uniform walked in, looked around the room, spotted the rowdy crew and came over.
“Good evening,” said the woman in a neatly pressed uniform, who wore a badge with the name Sgt. King, Rocky Point Police. “I’m sorry, but I’ll have to break up this happy scene. We got a call that you are disrupting business and upsetting customers.”