Robin Jenkins and Christina Clark find the dead body of Violet Hayes in their apartment. They strike an investigation of their own and enlist the help of their neighbor, Finn Dallas.
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IT WAS ALREADY 11 P.M.
"Hey, Nico." Joe's head whipped to the left, eyes locating the bulky man standing by the till. His chin angled her way, letting her know he was listening as his eyes were glued to the screen. "I'm clocking out."
"A'right, I'll take it from here," he said, throwing her a smile. She took off her apron and patted his shoulder to bid him goodbye.
She braced an arm on the sturdy counter, and jumped up to the other side, legs swinging off the surface.
The Rabbit Hole was packed as usual, but it was nothing Nico couldn't handle on his own at this hour. It was how he did it for years before she was hired after all.
"See ya."
"Say hi to Lizzie for me. Tell her she forgot the cat meds here again," he called out, already maneuvering the rest of the orders, the sound of clinking bottles and crushed ice bouncing against her ears.
Joe shook her head. Typical. "Yup, will do."
The golden light washed her pale skin as she navigated her way through the tables. It was bustling and loud, as it should be for a Friday night, and it was mainly because of the games of cards taking place on multiple tables at once. There was fighting and yelling out of nowhere, weapons ready at the table as a mere form of intimidation but nothing else, not under her's or Nico's watch. Banning was a card they didn't hesitate to use if fights were to go down, and it seemed to be enough warning seeing as The Rabbit Hole was Burlington's best spot.
She recognized faces on her way out, nodding her head back as they waved her way. She'd been working here since she was fourteen. Almost fourteen years now and counting. She knew every face by name, and they knew her by heart.
"Out so soon, Joe!" Otto, Burlington's tattoo artist who was responsible for every ink on her skin, exclaimed. He was standing by the pool table, figure tall and lean, hair swiped into a one-sided bang and eyeliner popping his eyes. His pet monkey was curled on the rail, watching a woman who leaned against the table, adjusting the cue to aim the white ball in the corner.
"Gotta see the kids." She grinned. "Might pass by tomorrow. Thinking of getting one on my back."
"Whenever you want. Place's yours."
Joe's eyes skipped back to the woman once she shot her cue, knocking the balls around the table, and getting three in.
"Nice."
The woman looked up, meeting her eye, a smirk stretching on her lips. "Thanks." Her voice was deep, and her eyes skimmed down her length. Joe's eyebrows shot up. Well. It was too bad she had to leave. She threw her a smile and turned around.
Her eyes landed on Zachary, who sat on his usual table with five other men, a beer in hand, and his parrot perched on his shoulder.
She cupped both hands around her mouth. "Yo Zach, thanks for the meat! Delicious."
