The Bar Watcher Read Free Page B

left.
    *
    Jimmy had not been exaggerating when he talked about Jared’s physical attributes. It was a real challenge, but I love a challenge, and it was more than worth it. And Jared had a few special techniques of his own that he amply demonstrated, to my delight and ultimate total exhaustion.
    “Not bad,” he said as he plumped up his pillow and put it behind his head.
    “Ditto,” I observed.
    We just sort of lay there for a few minutes, until Jared said, staring at the ceiling,
    “You need any help?”
    I turned to look at him. “Well, after this, I might need a little assistance in standing up.” He grinned. “Not that kind of help. I mean, like, in your work. You know, finding out stuff, getting information—that kind of thing. I like keeping my mind active, and I’m in just about every bar in town, and I always keep my ears open. I hear a lot of stuff—I never repeat it, but I hear it. And I’m pretty friendly with most of the bartenders. And I…uh…get around a lot, too.”
    “That’s really nice of you, Jared,” I said. “But I’m not in a position right now to…”
    He looked at me and shook his head. “I wasn’t talking about money. I just think it would be kind of fun. Give me something to do while I’m hauling those beer cases around.”
    “That would be great!” I said, although I wasn’t quite sure how I might be able to use his services. “But I’d have to have some way of repaying you.”
    “Hell, no,” he said. “I’d have to be most of those places anyway. Maybe I could just take it out in trade.” He grinned.
    “Now there’s a deal,” I said, and meant it. I thought for a second, then said, “You know, I could use another pair of ears when it comes to Rage. I’d appreciate knowing more about Comstock. And particularly anything anyone might be saying about their membership policies.”
    “You mean other than that they suck? Sure.”
    We were quiet for another moment, then he said, “Maybe I shouldn’t even bring this up, but I hope we might be running into one another more often, and I think I should tell you right off that I’m not looking for a relationship—not that I thought you were, but….”
    I reached out and laid my hand on his washboard stomach. “Not to worry,” I said. “I’m not exactly out baiting the traps yet. Besides, I’m having too much fun right now; I’m like a kid at Halloween, and it’s trick-or-treat time.”
    “Ready for another treat?” he asked with a wicked grin.
    I looked at him in amazement.
    “You wouldn’t happen to be a Scorpio, would you?”
    “Yeah,” he said. “How’d you know?”
    “Figures.”
    *
    The phone was ringing when I walked into the office the next morning. I ran across the room to grab it.
    “Hardesty Investigations.”
    “I’ve drawn up a contract for you,” the voice said, not bothering to identify himself. Fortunately, I recognized it as Barry Comstock. “How soon can you be here?”
    “I’ve got a client coming in about ten minutes,” I lied, but I wasn’t about to start jumping through Comstock’s hoop. “I can probably be there by eleven.”
    “The sooner the better,” he said, and hung up
    *
    I timed it so I arrived at Rage at exactly 11 o’clock. The same blond was behind the lobby window, and he must have recognized me, because he nodded toward the door and pushed the buzzer before I had a chance to say anything.
    I knocked on Comstock’s office door, and heard him say—well, it was more of a bark, “Come on in.”
    He wasn’t seated behind the desk this time. He was pacing between the desk and the worktable, obviously agitated. He didn’t wait for me to say anything.
    “The fucking bastard!” he almost yelled. “He’s screwing with the wrong guy! I’m going to have his balls in a jar!”
    I just stood there until he finally shut up.
    “Mind telling me what’s going on?” I asked.
    His face was flushed with anger, and he forced himself to march to his desk and plop