A Shot in the Bark: A Dog Park Mystery

Tuesday, May 10, continued

Desiree was the antithesis of Lia, Peter noted. The shapely bartender had a wild spray of coppery hair with lime green highlights. She had a ready smile and a Celtic trinity symbol revealed by an artful rip over her right shoulder blade. A band of bloody barb wire tattooed her left biceps. He couldn't see behind the bar to check out the rest of her outfit. He made a mental bet with himself that she wore jeans featuring butt cleavage. Peter thought the look was a bit tired and wondered about people who went overboard in their appearance. He had the thought that maybe a real artist didn't need to look like one.

He thought about Lia, long hair pulled back at the nape of her neck, plain T-shirt, serviceable khaki shorts, bare feet, short nails, no tats, piercings or jewelry. She was simplicity. Yet her paintings were anything but simple. She took the ordinary and made it lush and exotic.

Desiree put down the glass she was wiping. She glanced down the deserted bar. "Luthor was such a doll." Peter watched her face carefully. She'd become misty when he showed her Luthor's picture. It had him on alert.

"How long did you know Luthor?"

"He was a regular before I started working here last winter, but we didn't really start talking till Spring. Some time around Spring break? He was coming in a lot more often then."

Peter wondered if Luthor was more like the guy in Sliding Doors than Lia knew.

"How well did you know him?"

She gave him a guilty look. "Ah . . . geez. That girlfriend of his, she didn't get him, you know? Just because she can crank out pretty pictures of flowers and people lap them up, doesn't mean she understood what Luthor was going through with the book. He was writing something important, you know?"

Peter tamped down his impatience. Likely she'd gotten that opinion straight from Luthor, probably verbatim. "So you knew him pretty well. Did you see him outside the Comet?"

She looked away.

"Desiree?"

"Why do you have to know?" Her response held a touch of petulance. She pulled out a cutting board and started slicing lemons. She still didn't look at him. Peter gave her a moment.

"It's really important."

"Why is it important? He's dead! He shot himself. What else matters?" Tears gathered in her eyes. Peter knew better than to let her emotionalism distract him from the fact that she wasn't answering him.

"We need to know why, and everything matters." He kept his tone even.

She sighed heavily, giving up. "Look, there was this one night. He hung around after closing. We all have a few drinks after closing. He was wasted. I was a bit toasty. They'd broken up. We wound up necking in the parking lot and I took him home with me. He came around for a few weeks and then I found out she had her claws in him again. I couldn't deal. So I told him 'no more.' I wasn't going to be the Other Woman, and if he didn't know what he wanted, he'd have to figure it out. He tested the waters every once in a while, but after that he started to drift away. Stopped coming in so much, like that."

Peter privately thought Luthor did know what he wanted, and it wasn't to be stuck with one woman. Further questions revealed Desiree hadn't seen him for several weeks, and he hadn't called. She'd been working until closing the night he died. Whatever happened that night didn't appear to involve her.

Desiree provided names of some of the regular crowd but she didn't have numbers. He'd have to come back on a Thursday or Friday night to catch everyone. Desiree said she didn't think Luthor saw any of his drinking buddies outside the bar. Not much hope that interviewing them would reveal anything important, but it had to be covered. Maybe he could get Brent to do it.