Witness Chase (Nick Teffinger Thriller) by R.J. Jagger Page A

like he’d been settled in for a while. Kelly saw him look at her as soon as she came through the door, as if he’d been expecting her, and expecting her to be someone worth looking at. Three other men perched on barstools also turned their heads, older guys, harmless, neighborhood drunks.
    Even in cotton khaki pants and a casual blouse she felt overdressed.
    The place may have been only one bar but it smelled like ten.
    She couldn’t imagine what the floor looked like by the light of day.
    Dannenberg must have read something on her face, because she smacked the bartender on the arm and said, “Ray, stop gawking at the lady. You’ve seen women before.” Then to Kelly, “Don’t worry, he doesn’t kill that many people.”
    The man smiled. “Not that many, but you’re on the list. You know that, I hope.” To Kelly, “What can I get for you, pretty lady?”
    “Bud Light and a glass of ice, thanks.”
    “Glass of ice?”
    She nodded.
    “Right.”
    “Ice water?”
    “No, just a glass of ice.”
    “You don’t want water in the glass or nothing?”
    “No, just ice—for the beer. I like it cold.”
    He shook his head.
    “Never heard of such a thing. Glass of ice . . .”
    Dannenberg looked at him. “Raymond, some day when I’m feeling generous I’m going to sit down and explain to you why you can’t get laid.” To Kelly, “Come on, let’s get a booth.” Back to the bartender, “Girl-talk.”
    He smiled.
    “Booths cost extra. And hey, I get laid plenty.”
    They took the end booth, an orange vinyl unit held together with duct tape, and a stained wooden table that more than one person had felt the need to carve something important on. Beers in hand, and now able to talk in private, Kelly poured the beverage into the ice, watched it foam up, took a drink and got right to the point. “We need to find out if Alicia Elmblade is alive or not. Personally, I have my doubts. She would have called you sooner or later if she was.”
    Dannenberg smelled like weed and had a glaze over her eyes that looked like it wasn’t about to go away anytime soon.
    “Why?”
    Kelly rolled the bottle in her fingers.
    “Because, if she’s dead, we participated in an actual murder instead of a fake one. Which means that the man who got us involved, namely Michael Northway, is either in on it somehow, or got duped just like us. Either way, this thing goes to a whole new level.”
    “Look at that,” Dannenberg said.
    Kelly looked outside. Rain was starting to pummel down with an incredible force, bouncing off the asphalt and pounding on the windows.
    An ominous figure scurried past outside, hunched against the weather, wearing a dark windbreaker and baseball cap. He looked huge and powerful. Instead of continuing down the street he headed around the corner of the building. She expected the door to open at any second but it didn’t.
    Strange.
    “He seemed nice, from what Alicia said about him,” Dannenberg said.
    Kelly looked back at her.
    “Who?”
    “This Michael Northway guy.”
    “Why? What’d Alicia say?”
    “I don’t know, that he was always just real polite, didn’t treat her like a piece of meat, that kind of thing.”
    “But you never personally talked to him?”
    Dannenberg shook her head.
    “I saw him in the van that night but, no, I never talked to him or anything.”
    Kelly contemplated it.
    “So, the ten thousand dollars, he didn’t personally give that to you?”
    “No, Alicia got that from him and passed it on.”
    “Okay.”
    “Earlier that day.”
    “Okay.” Kelly looked around. “I have to admit, I really can’t find an upside for him to knowingly get involved in a situation where someone would actually be murdered. But he did lie to me about why she wanted to disappear.”
    Dannenberg contemplated the statement, took a hit on the cigarette, blew smoke out her nose, and said, “Run that one by me again.” She held up the beer and added, “By me and my Bud.”
    Kelly leaned