Shay O'Hanlon Caper 04 - Chip Off the Ice Block Murder Read Free Page A

raised eyebrow and a shrug. She looked far too young to have been “slinging liquor for years.”
    Did I want to keep trying to hold the masses at bay, knowing it was only going to get busier as the night went on? And I had to find some way to pay the Summit dude. Desperation clawed at my core. It was time to wave the white flag. “Okay, yeah.” I met her compassion-filled eyes and felt like a jerk. “I could use a hand or three. Look, I—I’m really sorry.”
    With a shake of her head she stopped my bumbling apology and made her way around the bar.
    Things were happening too fast for me to track. I felt like hell for being an ass. For the life of me I couldn’t figure out why this woman would want to dive into my nightmare. However, I wasn’t about to argue.
    I jerked a thumb under the counter. “Apron’s down there if you want one. Mixers in the cooler.” I pointed at the squat silver refrigerator tucked under the bar. “Garnishes on both ends and the middle of the bar. Wait staff down on the far right. Right now I’m free pouring. If you can find the jiggers, go for it.” I quickly ran down the prices I’d been charging. “And hey, name’s Shay. Thank you.”
    She stuck her hand out, and I shook it. Her grip was firm and sure. “Lisa. Lisa Vecoli. Glad to help.”
    I wasn’t in any position to question why she didn’t have anything better to do on New Year’s Eve. I clapped her on the shoulder, helped a couple more people, and watched Lisa do her thing. After she poured her first drink, I could see she was confident and capable. I hoped she was as proficient with money as she was with booze.
    “Lisa,” I called as I handed an honest-to-god Shirley Temple to a short, round lady with curly dishwater-blond hair. “Can you hold the natives at bay while I go find a way to pay that delivery dude at the end of the bar?” I wasn’t sure if I could trust this chick or not, but right now my options were pared down to one.
    Without missing a beat, she said, “Sure. I’m good.” She flipped the bottle she’d been holding high over her head, caught it, and proceeded to add it to the drink she was making.
    Show-off.
    Whatever the case, I was grateful. As long as she didn’t rob me blind.
    I hustled through a swinging door into the kitchen. A ghastly stench assailed my nose and I pulled up short. I took a second, deeper sniff, but the odor had wafted away. It was probably an olfactory hallucination. I was feeling quite like I’d lost most of my senses anyway.
    Two more steps and I was out the back door. The cold hit me like a slap in the face and sucked the breath from my lungs. I ignored it and charged around the corner of the building. My footsteps echoed against the wall as I pounded up a set of exterior stairs that led to my father’s second-floor apartment.
    At the top, I stopped short. Maybe my dad was inside but something had happened to him. Maybe he’d finally had that stroke I’d been worrying about for years. I reached a tentative hand to the doorknob, expecting to find it locked. I jerked my hand off the metal as it twisted in my palm, then turned the knob again and swung the door open.
    My heart leapt from my chest and landed securely in my throat. I pushed the door wider and peered into the dim apartment. The front door opened directly into the living room, with an open kitchen situated in the back. To the left a hall led to two bedrooms and a tiny bathroom. The light above the stove was on, and that was the only illumination in the place, save the glow of various electronics. Every time I came here, I was thrust back to my childhood, and the ghosts of the past roared into my head. It was so hard to believe Mom, Dad, and I had once lived in this cramped place.
    The faint tang of burnt toast lingered in the air. I flipped on the light switch next to the door, and a few of the ghosts disappeared.
    “Dad?” I called out. My heart triple-timed. I did not want to walk down that hall and find