they were done, someone tossed another apple to the juggler. Now three rotated over the table. The men tossed more coins, and the juggler caught another apple. The pile grew until beads of sweat popped on the juggler's brow. Finally, one too many apples sent the lot tumbling to the floor to shouts of laughter and groans from the gamblers. It looked like any other tavern, thought Harte in surprise, except that he could see no women in it. A harried troop of boys rushed from bar to table and back again, serving beer and plates of food to the men who occupied every table.
Griff motioned to Harte and headed for the bar. Behind the bar, a big, middle-aged man with heavily muscled arms and thick wrists used a bucket to sluice spilled beer from the counter behind the bar. He looked at Griff and raised his eyebrows inquiringly.
"Something I can get you?"
"Two barley ales, please."
Harte joined Griff at the bar and waited, while the barkeep poured the ale from a barrel that was chocked on the back counter. "Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?"
"Who's asking?"
"My name is Harte, and this is Griff. We're ... trying to help out a friend. There was a boy beaten across the street from here, last night."
"Ain't nothing unusual in that."
"He was left for dead, under the archway at Trast and Son. We're looking for anyone who saw anything."
"Why? The watch don't bother with what passes down here at night." He looked pointedly at Griff. "Do they?"
Griff's face reddened. "Not generally, no."
"So what's your interest?" The man shifted his gaze to Harte. "You say he's a friend of yours? I ain't seen you in here, before. Raf isn't the type to stray very far. Specially not up hill." His eyes rested on Harte's sleeves. "That's a fine shirt."
Harte kept his gaze steady. "You called him Raf. I take it you know him."
"He's a regular body, you could say."
"Was he in here last night?" said Harte.
"Like as not." The barkeep shrugged. "I couldn't say for certain. It was very busy." He drew a rag across the bar. "We're always very busy."
"Is there someone who might have noticed when Raf left?"
"Hold up! I didn't say he was here. I said he might've been."
"Would this help you remember?" Harte place a gold coin on the bar, in front of him.
Griff quickly shifted his body to shield the coin from view. "Watch what you flash around here," he hissed.
The barkeep passed his hand over the bar. When Harte looked down, the coin was gone. The barkeep glanced around the room, to see if anyone was paying undue attention. "That Raf, ya see, is fond of dancing. Last night, he had some coin--found a customer early, I think--and had three or four ales. Anyway, he was dancing on a table. You know, to warm up the house, stir up a little interest. He got lots of attention, but I didn't see anyone leave with him."
"Did anyone leave about the same time?" Griff asked.
"Not that I--well, Peli was still following him around. He's a new one, come around here a few weeks ago. Real young; spots on his face. He sort of latched onto Raf. Looked up to him, I guess." He grunted. "Lord knows why."
"Have you seen him tonight?" asked Harte.
"Nope."
"If we were to buy another round and drink it, say, at that table by the door, would you flash us a sign if he comes in?"
"I'll not be rattin' out any of my customers. We keep an eye out for our little family, here at the Angry C--Red Rooster."
"Right." Harte looked him in the eye and placed another coin on the bar in front of him. "Just nod or something."
Griff and Harte settled at the table by the door and ordered another round.
"Do you think there'll be any table dancing tonight?" Harte asked idly.
"Do you think you'd like to watch?"
"Of course not."
"Of course not," Griff mimicked.
* * *
"Look!" said Griff. A young boy had just entered the tavern and was drifting towards the back. "Do you think--?"
"Maybe. What's the barkeep doing?"
The barkeep looked casually over in their direction and nodded slightly
Griff motioned to Harte and headed for the bar. Behind the bar, a big, middle-aged man with heavily muscled arms and thick wrists used a bucket to sluice spilled beer from the counter behind the bar. He looked at Griff and raised his eyebrows inquiringly.
"Something I can get you?"
"Two barley ales, please."
Harte joined Griff at the bar and waited, while the barkeep poured the ale from a barrel that was chocked on the back counter. "Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?"
"Who's asking?"
"My name is Harte, and this is Griff. We're ... trying to help out a friend. There was a boy beaten across the street from here, last night."
"Ain't nothing unusual in that."
"He was left for dead, under the archway at Trast and Son. We're looking for anyone who saw anything."
"Why? The watch don't bother with what passes down here at night." He looked pointedly at Griff. "Do they?"
Griff's face reddened. "Not generally, no."
"So what's your interest?" The man shifted his gaze to Harte. "You say he's a friend of yours? I ain't seen you in here, before. Raf isn't the type to stray very far. Specially not up hill." His eyes rested on Harte's sleeves. "That's a fine shirt."
Harte kept his gaze steady. "You called him Raf. I take it you know him."
"He's a regular body, you could say."
"Was he in here last night?" said Harte.
"Like as not." The barkeep shrugged. "I couldn't say for certain. It was very busy." He drew a rag across the bar. "We're always very busy."
"Is there someone who might have noticed when Raf left?"
"Hold up! I didn't say he was here. I said he might've been."
"Would this help you remember?" Harte place a gold coin on the bar, in front of him.
Griff quickly shifted his body to shield the coin from view. "Watch what you flash around here," he hissed.
The barkeep passed his hand over the bar. When Harte looked down, the coin was gone. The barkeep glanced around the room, to see if anyone was paying undue attention. "That Raf, ya see, is fond of dancing. Last night, he had some coin--found a customer early, I think--and had three or four ales. Anyway, he was dancing on a table. You know, to warm up the house, stir up a little interest. He got lots of attention, but I didn't see anyone leave with him."
"Did anyone leave about the same time?" Griff asked.
"Not that I--well, Peli was still following him around. He's a new one, come around here a few weeks ago. Real young; spots on his face. He sort of latched onto Raf. Looked up to him, I guess." He grunted. "Lord knows why."
"Have you seen him tonight?" asked Harte.
"Nope."
"If we were to buy another round and drink it, say, at that table by the door, would you flash us a sign if he comes in?"
"I'll not be rattin' out any of my customers. We keep an eye out for our little family, here at the Angry C--Red Rooster."
"Right." Harte looked him in the eye and placed another coin on the bar in front of him. "Just nod or something."
Griff and Harte settled at the table by the door and ordered another round.
"Do you think there'll be any table dancing tonight?" Harte asked idly.
"Do you think you'd like to watch?"
"Of course not."
"Of course not," Griff mimicked.
* * *
"Look!" said Griff. A young boy had just entered the tavern and was drifting towards the back. "Do you think--?"
"Maybe. What's the barkeep doing?"
The barkeep looked casually over in their direction and nodded slightly
Similar Books
Read To Me
Nona Raines
Rebel Heart
Moira Young
The Border Reiver
Nick Christofides
Letting Hearts Heal
Luna Jensen
Taming Natasha
Nora Roberts
Drive-By
Lynne Ewing
Bring the Rain
Lizzy Charles
Alex Armstrong: Awakening
Hayes Farley
Daughters of the Red Light: Coming of Age in Mumbai's Brothels
Shanoor Seervai
The Forgotten Waltz
Anne Enright