The Barkeep by William Lashner Page B

Justin.
    “You’ve lost some weight since I last saw you.”
    “I run.”
    “Had you been in touch with Mr. Flynn since the trial?”
    “No.”
    “Had he been in touch with you? Did he call you or ask you for anything?”
    “No.”
    “Did he tell you he was changing his testimony about your father? Did he tell you that his whole story about your father asking him to help him find someone to kill your mother was made up because of police pressure?”
    “How could he have told me that,” said Justin evenly, “if we hadn’t been in touch?”
    “I just told you a major witness against your father had changed his testimony and you don’t look shocked, or angry, or even like you need time to process the information. You look like you knew it already and had known it for a while.”
    “My brother told me that, too.”
    “The same night he told you Mr. Flynn was dead.”
    “That’s right.”
    “Busy night,” said Mia, looking at Scott. He nodded at her in indication that he would check things out with the brother right after the interview. She looked down at the file on the desk and softened her voice as if the next question were a throwaway while she figured out what she really wanted to ask. “How’s your father doing?”
    “He’s in jail.”
    “Yes, I know, I put him there. But some inmates deal with incarceration better than others. Some even flourish. How’s your dad doing?”
    “I don’t know. I don’t see him.”
    “When was the last time you talked to your father?”
    “Before he was arrested.”
    Mia lifted her head and stared at Justin. “And not since then?”
    “He killed my mother, Ms. Dalton.”
    “So you haven’t forgiven him.”
    “Is something like that forgivable? And truthfully, I don’t expect he gives a damn whether I forgive him or not.”
    She recalled the old Justin Chase, how hurt and bewildered he had been, and she softened. “I seem to remember seeing your name on a list of graduating law students.”
    “Yeah, how do you like that? They let anybody graduate law school these days.”
    “Not from Penn they don’t. Where did you pass the bar?”
    “I didn’t.”
    She just stared at him.
    “I never took the test. I only finished law school because it was easier going through the motions than actually quitting and finding something else to do. But after my mother, I didn’t want to do the lawyer thing anymore.”
    “So what thing do you do now?”
    “I tend bar.”
    Mia stared and waited for some sort of explanation.
    “The public has a thirst and I’m the man to quench it.”
    “Nothing wrong with the job, but it’s a bit of a shame. You would have been a damn good lawyer.”
    “Do you think?”
    “Yes, I think. Part of the law is about convincing a group of jurors to see the world the way you see it. Being persuasive might be your special skill. It sure worked with me.”
    “What worked?”
    “You convinced me that your father killed your mother.”
    “I thought the evidence convinced you.”
    Mia saw something working on Justin’s hard new features just then, something she hadn’t seen yet in the interview, and it took her a moment to figure out what it was. Fear, that was it. You would think a kid brought in by a cop to theDA’s office would be scared, even a bit, but not this kid. He had been strangely nonplussed by the whole thing, until now. She glanced at Scott to see if he had noticed it too, but he was too busy looking at her. As if she had said something wrong or revealed too much.
    “Yes, of course,” said Mia, turning back to Justin. “It was mostly the evidence. Including Mr. Flynn’s testimony. But you were a part of convincing me, too. We can’t deny that, can we, Justin?”
    “I assumed you had more to go on than me. I noticed your new title on the door, Ms. Dalton. Chief of the Homicide Division. That’s a nice promotion. Convicting my father didn’t hurt your prospects.”
    “Your father is asking for a new trial. Did Frank