Deep Six -- Chapter 18

Sam McRae Mystery #4

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The bathroom was just big enough for two stalls and a small sink streaked with rust-brown stains. Leaning toward the mirror, I had the misfortune to get a good look at myself. My short auburn hair stuck out at odd angles, like I’d been in a wind tunnel. The light from a single bare bulb cast flattering raccoon shadows under my eyes.

I splashed my face with water and ran a comb through my hair. The towel dispenser was empty, so I snatched off a ribbon of toilet paper, balled it up, and dabbed my face with it.

As I picked stray bits of toilet paper from my cheeks, I tried to imagine why Gilbert Simons and the tattooed man would meet at a place like this. Mac Cassity’s concerns about Buzzy Ellis aside, this was a strange scenario. Why would someone who worked for a big-time developer’s consultant and one of the biggest realtors in the county meet a man like Buzzy Ellis here, in any case?

I left the bathroom and returned to my booth, keeping some distance between myself and the two men in their booth. The crowd was thinning, but still lively. The jukebox blared a southern rock tune from twenty years ago—an explosion of guitars and whiny vocals—for the benefit of the remaining die-hards, who lifted their voices in competition. Over the racket, I could still hear the occasional crack of billiard balls colliding in the other room.