Some Degree of Murder

Tuesday, April 13 th Aphrodite’s Greek Restaurant, Dinner

VIRGIL

I was meeting her at Aphrodite’s Greek Restaurant for dinner. The restaurant was just around the corner from my hotel and came highly recommended by the front desk clerk, especially their wine bar. I got to the restaurant thirty minutes before we were supposed to meet and took a seat at the counter in the small bar. A number of tables were in the area for those who didn’t want to eat in the more formal dining room. Several groups occupied the tables.

The wine bar at Aphrodite’s was softly lit with music reminiscent of the fifties.

Behind the bar, a tall, slender blonde with piercing blue eyes and a bright smile walked over to me. “What can I get you?”

“Do you have any beer?”

She winked at me and her smile never faded. “Sure we do, although none of them are domestic. We’ve got Bridgeport’s Indian Pale, Weidmer’s Hefeweizen and Guinness.”

“Guinness.”

With a bounce to her step, she went into a nearby room and came out with a tall black can of Guinness and a chilled glass. She popped the top and a strong hiss escaped. With a long pour, she filled the glass completely and shook the can. From inside the can, a hard rattle could be heard.

“Did you know they put a nitrogen capsule in the cans to keep the beer fresh?”

I nodded and pulled the glass over to me. “What’s your name?”

She extended her hand. “I’m Catherine.”

“I’m Virgil,” I said and shook her hand. Her skin was cool on mine for a moment before she slipped away to help a table full of customers.

A small dark-skinned man stepped into the wine bar and his eyes scanned the tables. He wore a deep blue club shirt over khaki pants and a thick gold watch covered his wrist. By the way several of the patrons deferred to him, I made him for the owner of the place. He waved hello to a group of people before he turned and strolled back into the restaurant.

I grabbed my beer, took a sip and closed my eyes.

I opened them back up when I heard a familiar voice say, “Virgil?”

Her eyes were frantic as they moved around the bar, searching for anyone she might know.

“Relax, Andie,” I whispered to her.

“I can’t. Someone might recognize me and I told Steve I was shopping.”

“Listen,” I said, trying to get her mind away from her worry. “That’s Dean Martin singing right now.”

She focused her eyes back on me. “What?”

I pointed up to the speakers. “That’s Dean Martin. Just listen.”

We sat quiet for a moment and listened to Ain’t That a Kick in the Head.

“Is that supposed to mean something?”

“No, I just wanted you to think about something else for a moment.”

She stared at me for a moment before a small smile creased her lips. Her manicured hand carefully picked up her glass and she sipped the Cabernet she had ordered. “You look different,” she finally said. “Your eyes are harder and your face is thinner than I remember.”

I sipped the last of my beer and put the glass on the side of the table. “I did some time.”

“I know. I read the papers after you left.”

“They made me sound worse than I am.”

“You almost killed a man.”

“I did what I was supposed to do.”

Catherine, the bar maid, walked over to the table. “You need another Guinness?”

I smiled at her. “That’d be great.”

She looked over at Angie who stared wide-eyed at me. “Another Cabernet?”

Andie bobbed her head without taking her eyes off of me. Catherine gave a small nod before walking away.

“You okay?”

She nodded.

“I did three years for that. I haven’t done any more time.”

“Are you still working for that man?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“He held up his end of the bargain. I wanted to keep working for someone who kept their word.”

Catherine came back with our drinks. After she put Andie’s wine down in front of her, she popped another can of Guinness and poured it into a fresh glass. She winked at me before she walked off.

“I’m going to find who hurt Fawn. You know that, right?”

She stared at me over the lip of her wine glass.

“I’m doing this for me but because you asked as well, right?”

She emptied her glass and put it on the table. “Yes,” she said softly, her lips wet from the wine.

“That means you’ll be part of it. You can’t tell anyone. Not Steve. Not the cops. No one.”

“I understand that.”

“Was Fawn using?”

“Using?”

“Dope. Drugs.”

She shrugged. “I think she smoked some marijuana occasionally.”

“No, not weed. Something harder. Maybe crank. Probably crack.”

“Crank? Crack? What’s the difference?”

“Crank is methamphetamine. Crack is jacked-up cocaine.”

“No way. She was a good girl.”

“Did she have a boyfriend?”

“She didn’t have a steady boyfriend.”

“Who’s her best friend then?”

Andie thought for a second. “That would be Natalia Romanov.”

“Is she Russian?”

“Yeah.”

“Where can I find Natalia?”

Andie pulled out pen from her purse and wrote the address down on a napkin.

“Are you going to talk to her?”

“Yeah.”

“Want me to call her for you?”

“No.”

She checked her watch and looked up at me.

“I’m good,” I said to her.

Andie slid out of the booth and put her hand on my shoulder. “Thanks,” she whispered in to my ear.

I watched her walk out of the restaurant before turning back to my beer.

“She’s pretty,” Catherine said as she came over to collect Andie’s empty glass.

“Yeah.”

“Your wife?”

“Nah. Old girlfriend.”

“I see,” she said with a smile and walked off to the bar.

I got up and followed her to the counter where I asked her for the tab. She wrote it quickly up and slipped the check to me. From my pocket, I pulled several bills and dropped them on the hardwood counter.

“What are you doing later tonight?” I asked her as she collected the money.

Catherine tilted her head. “Going home to my husband.”