“Thanks.”
She filled my coffee cup, set the cream pitcher within range, and moved down the line, offering refills and warm-ups before she put in my order. My breakfast arrived and I focused my attention on my orange juice, rye toast, crisp bacon, and scrambled eggs. This was my favorite meal, and I wasted no time putting it away. Darva slipped my check under my plate, and when she topped off my coffee cup she said, “That’s him.”
I looked over my shoulder at the fellow standing in the door. He was as Jake Ottweiler had described him, though I’d have put him at a good twenty-five pounds over the three hundred Jake had mentioned. His head was shaved, but a nap of white stubble had grown in again. His brows were dark and his features appeared diminished by all the weight he carried. His neck was thick, and I could see a roll of fat along his collar line in back. He wore jeans and a golf shirt. I watched him make his way across the room, pausing to chat with half the people he passed. Two men vacated a booth and he slid into it, undismayed by the dirty dishes they’d left behind. I waited until the busboy had cleared the table, giving him additional time to order before I paid my check and crossed the room.
“Hi. Are you BW?”
“I am.” He half-rose from his seat and held out his hand, which I shook. “You’re Kinsey. Jake called me last night and told me you’d be in. Have you had breakfast yet?”
“I just finished.”
He sat down again. “In that case, you can join me for a cup of coffee. Slide in.”
I eased into the booth across from him. “Congratulations on the Moon. It’s a great restaurant, and what a crowd.”
“Weekends are even busier. Of course, we’re the only game in town so that doesn’t hurt. First thing we did when we took possession was we bought a liquor license. We remodeled and expanded in the late fifties and then again about five years back. Before that the Moon was just a hole in the wall-beer and wine with a few prepackaged snacks, pretzels, potato chips, things like that. The clientele was mostly locals. We might get someone in from Orcutt or Cromwell, sometimes a few from Santa Maria, but that was about it. You enjoy your dinner?”
“I did. The steak was fabulous.”
The waitress appeared with a coffeepot and mugs. She and BW got into a minor conversation while she poured coffee. “Your order’s coming right up,” she said, and moved away.
He smiled. “I’m a creature of habit. Eat the same thing every day. Same time, same place.” He added cream to his coffee and then picked up three packets of sweetener and flapped them briefly before he tore off the tops. I watched five seconds’ worth of chemicals disappear into his cup. “So you’re making the rounds, asking about Violet. Must be frustrating.”
“Monotonous is more like it. People are trying to be helpful, but information is scarce and the story tends to be the same. Violet had a trashy reputation and Foley beat her. Try to make something out of that.”
“I don’t have much to add. I saw the two of them three and four nights a week, sometimes together, sometimes one or the other alone, but usually half in the bag.”
“So if Violet picked up a stranger, you’d have known about it?”
“You bet, and so would everyone else. People frequented the Moon because they knew the place. We were too small and too far out of the way to attract tourists or traveling salesmen.”
“Did you work every night?”
“I’d take a day off now and then, but I was pretty much the man in charge. The guy who spelled me, if I was sick or out of town, died a long time ago. Who else have you talked to?”
I rattled off the list of names and watched him nod in agreement.
“Sounds right. None of them could help?”
“That remains to be seen. I’m collecting bits and pieces, but I have no idea if anything I’ve picked up is relevant. Do you remember your reaction when you heard she was gone?”
“I wasn’t surprised. I can tell you that.”
“Were you suspicious of anyone?”
“Besides Foley? No.”
“You don’t know of anyone she might have run off with?”
He shook his head.
“Sergeant Schaefer tells me the locals were all present and accounted for. He says the rumors about Violet having a lover were all traceable to Foley, so if he did something to her, he’d provided himself a smoke screen.”
The waitress reappeared with his breakfast: waffles, fried eggs, link sausage, a side of hash browns, and a second side, of grits with a pat of melting butter.
“Makes a certain amount of sense, assuming Foley’s smart enough, which I tend to doubt.”
“At the time, did you think he might have killed her?”
“It crossed my mind. I know he decked her on more than one occasion, but it was usually behind closed doors. None of us would tolerate his abusing her in public.”
“People tell me the two of them got into wrangles all the time at the Moon.”
“Only for as long as it took me to get out from behind the bar with my baseball bat. I’d have been happy to clobber Foley if he put up resistance. He was usually cooperative if I made matters plain.”
“Was she abusive as well?”
“She went after him sometimes, but she was such a tiny thing she couldn’t do much harm. They’d get into it like two dogs, snarling and snapping. I’d go out there and separate them, put her on one side of the room and him on the other.”
“Did you ever hear her talk about leaving him?”
“Now and then,” he replied. “You know, she’d be crying and complaining, feeling sorry for herself. But it’s like I told her, I’m a bartender, not a damn marriage counselor. I did what I could, but it didn’t amount to much. Problem was, they were so used to brawling that as soon as it was over, they went about their business like nothing had gone on. Next thing you know they’d be at it again. I’d have thrown ‘em both out for good, but I felt as long as they were in the Moon, at least I could keep an eye on them and intervene if necessary.”
“Did they fight about the same thing or was it different every time?”
“Usually the same. She’d be flirting with some guy and Foley would take offense.”
“Who, though?”
“Who’d she flirt with? Any guy in range.”
“What about Jake Ottweiler?”
“I’ll correct myself. Not him. The man was married and his wife was on her deathbed.”
“Sorry. I didn’t think Violet made many subtle moral distinctions.”
“She didn’t. I saw her throw herself at Tom Padgett and he was married. There was also a fellow who ran a little plumbing concern. Violet was all over him one night. Must have scared the hell out of him because he never came back.”
“Did she ever flirt with you?”
“Sure, if I was the last guy left in the bar.”
“I guess there’s no point in asking if you succumbed to her charms.”
“I wasn’t tempted. Maybe I saw too much and the idea lost its appeal. I liked her, but not that way. She was too messed up, but it wasn’t anything I could change. She was what she was, her and Foley both. Tell you one thing about him: he hasn’t stepped a foot in the Moon since the day she disappeared.”
“At what point did you buy the place?”
“Fall of 1953. Before that it was owned by a couple of guys from Santa Maria. I was the one who managed everything-kept the books, did the ordering, saw the bathrooms were clean.”