The Eustice Murders (Complete)

*Chapter 20*

The guys arrived at the station at the usual time and headed straight to the office as normal. The pool hall Hank had planned on visiting didn't open for business until ten thirty so there was little point in arriving before then. They could have given themselves a bit of a lay-in and then headed straight there but as they were attempting to keep their movements and activities quiet they had decided to make things appear as normal as possible. They had thought about, and briefly even discussed, sharing their theories with the captain; after all, he was on their side and certainly around these parts the only person they could trust, but for the time being, they had decided that the fewer people that knew what they were up to the better. Partly due to this and partly because they had nothing new or significant to discuss, their morning briefing with the captain had been a rather quick and uneventful one; something they were both happy with as it left them plenty of time to prepare for the imminent visit.

"So, what do we know about this pool hall then?" Sam asked.

"Well," Hank began as he opened the file he had been previously hiding beneath his laptop, "Payton's Pool Parlor is the name. It's owned by one Clarissa Payton, current professional pool player and former U.S.A International."

"Wow, that's kind of cool," Sam thought out loud, briefly interrupting his partner.

"Yeah, I thought so too," Hank nodded in agreement before getting the conversation back on track. "Looks like she doesn't live locally though so probably hires someone to run it for her."

Sam closed his eyes and grimaced. "That figures," he added, believing that places like this, when they were being run by a third party, were much more likely to be involved in underhand dealings as opposed to those who have the boss on hand to oversee everything.

At 10:30, Hank and Sam pulled into the empty parking lot of the pool hall, their eyes catching that not a car was there. They walked in and the place couldn't have been much quieter with the exception of one staff member behind the bar; otherwise, there was not a soul in sight. They both glanced around the place, neither of them really sure what to expect but had to admit first impressions were favorable.

"Morning guys," the excited greeting came from behind the bar, presumably delighted to have had customers so early. His demeanor changed rapidly, however, when Sam and Hank flashed badges and introduced themselves. He instantly became nervous, although, not quite to such a degree to raise any suspicions. He probably didn't have detectives visiting too often and their introductions probably came as a bit of a shock.

"It's OK, nothing to worry about, just a routine investigation really. A couple of things we need to follow up on," Sam told him, raising his right hand with his palm towards the barman, attempting to put him at ease. Hank reached into his top pocket and pulled out a photograph which he placed on the bar.

"Tell me, have you ever seen this man in here?" Hank asked. The barman took a step closer and looked at the picture in front of him.

"No, sorry, I have no idea who that is," he answered, shaking his head. Exactly the response they were expecting. The picture Hank had shown him was a random photo he had printed from the police database earlier that morning, it was also several years old so the chances are that the person in the picture would have changed considerably since it was taken and may not be recognizable anyway. They did now, though, have a natural reaction from him which they would use as a comparison to judge his reaction to the second photo, one of the most recent victims found with the eight ball embedded into his chest. The barman took a few more seconds to respond this time, although, when he did it was more or less identical to the first photo confirming that he was unaware of whom this man was.

"No problem. To be honest, we thought it was a long shot anyway but we have to check these things," Hank told him while returning the prints to his jacket pocket.

"You know how it is. The boss is on our asses and we need to be seen to be doing something," Sam joked causing the barman to nod his head. "I have to say though," Sam continued, casting his eyes around the rest of the place. "This is probably the cleanest place we've been to so far. Do you look after it yourself?"

"Well, thank you very much," he smiled, "but no, we have a contractor who comes in twice a week to keep it like this."

"Well, whoever they are they seem to be doing a good job of it. Have you used them long?" Sam probed.

"Um, actually yes," the barman nodded. "I'll be honest with you detective, Anthony is the one who holds the contract and he is my cousin so we kind of look after each other, help each other out, ya know?"

"Oh family touch, I like it," Hank told him.

"Looks like we just missed him," Sam added.

"I'm not really sure," the barman explained, shrugging slightly. "Anthony has his own keys, so he comes and goes whenever he can. Like I said, he is contracted to be here twice a week but so long as it's not two days in a row, I leave it up to his discretion on when he wants to come in." Both Sam and Hank raised eyebrows at this comment. "Well," The barman continued, "if you can't trust your family, who can you trust? And as you've already said, it's not as if he isn't doing a good job. As long as the place stays like this, I have no reason to contact him."

"I see," Sam nodded thoughtfully. "So this is your place huh?"

"Oh, I wish," the barman laughed. "I'm just the manager here. The real boss is a professional pool player but we hardly see her anymore. She has a business manager who comes in once a month to run through the books but otherwise, it's just me here."

"Fair enough. Well, I'm sure you have plenty of things to be getting on with. I know we do," Sam told him as Hank smiled and nodded in agreement beside him. "So, we'll leave you to get on to it. Thank you for your time." They then both shook his hand and left. Sam got in the car and glanced at Hank who returned his look, their thoughts clearly being spoken between each other about that conversation and the questions it arose.