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He was wondering how Gator even knew Marvin for him to have felt the need to threaten him. It was something he was determined to find out. They’d had a good talk about the old times and the things that had happened since they’d last seen one another as children, but Bruno was beginning to feel like he didn’t really know who Gator was. He wasn’t the little boy Gaston, who had saved his life all those years ago, but he still seemed like he was a good person.
Yet Bruno had met many criminals over his career who seemed like good people until they weren’t.
He opened the door and stepped into the dark interior of the Jokers MC clubrooms. He was greeted by the smell of stale beer.They must have had a party last night.His eyes struggled to adjust to the dim lighting as he scanned the room. He could see a few people scattered around the room, some playing pool, some talking in quiet tones at the bar. But there was no sign of Gator. From other rooms he could hear raucous laughter and wondered what they were doing and whether Gator was one of the voices he could barely hear.
As he made his way towards the bar, he caught snippets of conversations. Some were discussing a recent string of robberies in the area, while others seemed to be talking about the various members of the club. He waited for the bartender to notice him, and after a few moments, the big rough biker made his way over with a rag he was wiping along the top of the bar.
“What can I getcha?” he said gruffly.
“I’m here to see Gator,” Bruno said.
The bartender raised an eyebrow. “Gator, huh?” he said, his tone laced with suspicion. “What do you want with him?
“Just a talk,” Bruno told the grumpy bastard.
The man studied him for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully. “He ain’t here,” he finally said. “Hasn’t been around for a few weeks.”
A few weeks?
“Do you know when he’ll be back?” Bruno asked.
“Nah.”
Bruno wondered whether the bartender was lying or not. If he was, what was he covering up, and if he wasn’t, why hadn’t Gator been around his own club for so long? He had a feeling Gator was still around and maybe this guy was covering for him.
“You sure?” he asked the bartender.
“You drinking or just snooping?” the bartender asked.
“I need to talk to him,” Bruno said. “It’s important.”
The bartender frowned. “Well, he ain’t here,” he said. “And if he is, he sure ain’t showin’ his face.”
Bruno sighed. “What’s the problem? I just want to talk to him.”
“Maybe he doesn’t like talking to cops.”
That took Bruno by surprise. He'd never met this bartender before in his life, and Bruno was an undercover detective.How does he know?
“Who says I’m a cop?”
“You've got it written all over your face,” the bartender said.
“Man, you haven’t got a clue. I'm a friend of Baptiste's. I’m not a cop.”
“I don’t care if you’re a friend of Baptiste. You can fuck off out of here right now.”
If the rest of the Jokers were as unfriendly as the bartender, then Bruno didn’t mind that Baptiste had never invited him there.
“What’s wrong with you? I just want to talk to Gator. I was with him having drinks last night. We were friends back in Jackson.”
“Then why are you lying about being a cop” I’ve seen you at that cop bar many times.”
“Really? That's why you think I’m a cop? I was there last night with two Jokers. Baptiste and Gator. If Gator is not around, I’d like to see Baptiste.”
“So, you’re not a cop?” the bartender said.
“Yeah, I’m a cop. I'm not here to bust any nuts. I just need to talk to Gator about something we’ve got in common. So do you know where I can find him?”
