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“Annoying, but an okay dude. He moved on to Caitlin Roberts the second Ashley left.”
I snorted. “Typical.” My gaze flicked to the rest of the bar. “Is Tommy here now?”
Belching, he searched the room. “White golf shirt. Khaki shorts.”
I followed his gaze to the jukebox where the white golf shirt was sandwiched between a Led Zeppelin T-shirt and a black tank top. The men of Fairhaven wouldn’t be strutting the catwalk during Fashion Week anytime soon.
I patted my helper’s shoulder. “Thanks. Now sober up before you go home.”
“What? I’m only just getting started.” He closed his eyes and slid down to sit on the floor.
I stalked toward my prey. Tommy only had an inch on me and probably weighed less, bless his white cotton shirt.
“Are you Tommy Mennard?” I asked.
He grinned like he’d won the lottery. “Yeah, I’m Tommy.”
“I understand you were the last person to see Ashley Pratt before she went missing.”
His grin quickly evaporated. “No, that’s not true. Who told you that?”
“She was last seen at this bar talking to you.”
His companions snorted with laughter. “Where’d you stash her, Tommy?” the bald one asked. “Should we check the trunk of your car for DNA evidence?”
The other friend lit up with excitement. “Do you have one of those special lights that shows blood?”
“I’m not a cop,” I said.
Tommy’s brow furrowed. “Then why are you asking about Ashley?”
“Because I’m helping her brother with the search. Can we talk for two minutes?”
He glanced over his shoulder at his friends. “I’ll be right back.”
“She ain’t a cop, Tommy. You don’t need to talk to her,” his bald friend said.
“I got nothing to hide.” He walked with me to the far side of the room, away from the cluster of bodies.
“What did the two of you talk about that night?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Not much. Our routine is the same. I ask her out. She says no.”
“If she keeps saying no, why keep asking?”
“I do it a little differently each time, like that night I offered to take her to the new seafood place.”
“Because that’s her favorite?”
He frowned. “No, because seafood’s my favorite.”
I was starting to see why Ashley wasn’t interested. “Did she seem like herself that night?”
“Yeah, sure. She was worried about the police catching her drinking again, but that was nothing new.”
My gaze flicked to the bartender. “They serve minors here a lot?”
“Dude, it’s half their business.” He tensed at his revelation, then seemed to remember I wasn’t a cop. “They’d be crazy not to.”
