AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“In what way?”
Mayflower smiled thinly. “Never says a word unless it’s some religious quote, like she swallowed the whole damn Bible. Once told me I was going to hell for wearing a frigging Iron Maiden T-shirt.”
It was Barbara’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Iron Maiden? Thought they’d be a bit before your time.”
“Good music died after the nineties.”
Well, that explained the sweatshirts.
“I used to say that about the eighties,” Barbara said. “Although the nineties gave us better hair.”
“They say perms are coming back.”
“They say that about Elvis too.”
The girl smiled again.
“Mayflower, you done yacking over there? We got other customers waiting, you know!” The shout came from Carly leaning over the bar. Barbara couldn’t see any other customers, certainly none waiting, but she got the gist.
Mayflower sighed. “I’ll get you that beer,” she said, and slouched away.
Barbara watched her go. As she did, she spied a new figure entering the Grill. A young man in a black parka with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He pushed back his heavy hood and raised a hand in greeting to Carly, who actually cracked a smile in return.
Barbara wasn’t surprised. The man was a looker. Tousled dark hair, a hint of stubble and mournful brown eyes. Puppy-dog eyes. Put her in mind of that old actor, the one who was mighty handsome before all the plastic surgery.
She watched as he walked across the bar and joined an older man sitting at a table. Smartly dressed, silver hair, goatee. The pair spoke for a couple of minutes and then the older man suddenly rose, looking annoyed. He picked up his jacket and strode swiftly across the bar. The younger man sat back in his chair and ran his hands through his hair.
Interesting. Mayflower walked up to Barbara’s table.
“Here you go.” She put the beer down.
“Thanks. Do you know the man over there?”
She half glanced back. “Oh, that’s Kurt Mowlam—he teaches at the school.”
Kurt Mowlam. Barbara remembered Rita mentioning his name.
Mayflower gave Barbara a look. “Most women notice him.”
“I bet they do. And the man who just left?”
“Oh, that’s Dr. Dalton.” She grinned. “You prefer a silver fox?”
“My interest is purely professional.”
“Right.”
She strolled off. Barbara debated with herself for a moment and then she stood, clutching her beer. She plastered a bright grin on her face and walked over to Mowlam’s table. “Evening, sir. Kurt Mowlam, right?”
Mowlam turned. “Oh, hi, Detective…” He floundered, offering an apologetic smile.
“Atkins, sir,” Barbara filled in for him.
“Of course. I’ve heard about you. A forensic vampyr anthropologist. Sounds exciting.” His voice had a lazy drawl that matched his lazy, sloping eyes. He held out a hand. Barbara shook it.
“Mind if I join you?”
He glanced at the duffel bag. “I have to mark some essays and prep for my lessons…”
