Chapter Text
A lit cigar rests on a table, smoldering into a small dish on the countertop. Smoke rises from the tray, and the leather seat strains as a large man sitting atop it sets a glass of whiskey onto a cluster of rings worn into the wooden counter.
A tired but friendly-faced man picks the glass back up, before placing a coaster over the area where he sets the glass back down.
“Just because they were already there doesn’t mean it’s okay to leave more.” The bartender says in a kind, yet tired tone, patting the man's shoulder before leaning against the counter. He picked up a spare glass next to him and wiped the inside with a rag from his apron. “I’m sure most of them are your fault, too.”
“You can't prove that.” says the man, in a joking but similarly hollow tone. As if there were an intent for the words to be humorous, but the energy for the joy was absent.
“Someone is a bucket of sunshine today, huh?” says the bartender, setting the now clean glass back into the cupboard high above the countertop, throwing the rag onto the table. “Rough day?”
“No, not a rough day. A nothing day. Another day gone by where I realize this promotion was just to keep me out of my damn office and make sure people did their jobs.” The man takes a small sip of the amber whiskey in his glass, revealing a patch on his right shoulder- RCPD.
“You make more pay, right?” says the bartender, as he picks up the remote ambiently, fidgeting with it before pressing the big red button, starting up a small CRT television to the left of the officer, playing at a low volume. The noise pushed the silence to the corners of the bar.
“Yeah, I make more pay, but all of it goes in your cash register, don’t it?” The officer places his glass back down before nodding toward it, and the bartender takes the signal. He uncorks a large glass bottle before pouring another glass of alcohol, and he takes the initiative to add another few large ice cubes into the glass. The cigar fizzles out.
“Hey, Don’t blame me for having the best whiskey in town. Plus, business has been down, you’re the singular one keeping me afloat nowadays. Without you, I’d have to stop aging my own stuff.” The bartender gestures toward a back room, where through a cracked door the police officer vaguely sees a small set of pipes and kegs. “So just remember that before you feel bad about where all that money is going. And if you ever decide you wanna change your ways, I would be happy to get you something a little more virgin.”
“And just know, when pigs fly, I will be happy to pay for those virgin drinks,” the police officer replies crassly.
“Dunelly, stop flirting.” The bartender replied with a small laugh at his own joke. Dunelly rolls his eyes.
Dunelly snatches the remote from the counter and turns up the volume on the small television.
“Details are still unclear, but rumors say that this could be another murder committed by the dangerous criminal, known as the ‘Catharsis Killer’. Police currently have no statements on whether or not this is true- however, photographic evidence has supported the idea that a red carnation, his modus operandi, was left at the murder scene.” Dunelly sighed and switched the T.V. to mute. The silence creeps back in.
“Must be pretty annoyed that your buddies on the force get to deal with all that fun stuff, huh?” The bartender commented, his eyes fixated on the television, as he turned to pick the rag back up off the counter to start wiping the empty spaces by the lone officer. The screen's reflection danced in the glass.
“Bill and Rodriguez? Jealous? You’re out of your damn mind. Plus, the Catharsis Killer? Screw that.” Dunelly finished his second drink, and he watched as the ice slipped into another static position after melting away slightly.
“Well, you sure got out of it when you went through everyone’s business, all you got was a promotion you do nothing but whine about.” The bartender wiped the sweat off of his forehead with the rag before rolling it up and placing it back into his apron.
“You’d be complaining too, if you had to sit around and do nothing all day to go to a bar to drink the night away, You’d get annoyed by life pretty fast.” The bartender gave him an amused glance.
“You pretty much just summed up both of our lives there, buddy.”
Cutting through the stillness of the bar was the chime of a bell, amateurly attached to the back of the bar door. A neat looking man in a business casual outfit, a suitcase, and a rain soaked hat walked in. He placed his hat and case on the coat rack before waltzing over. He flowed in between tables and stray chairs before arriving at the bar, sitting two seats over of the officer.
“What can I do for you?” The bartender asked, standing straight up.
“I believe you can do many things for me, but the first thing I think would be a nice glass of white wine and a drink for the fellow to the right of me,” he said, opening his wallet and unfolding a fifty dollar bill. “Keep the change.”
“Of course, sir,” The bartender said, taking the money from the man, and popping the cork off of an aged bottle of white wine from far under the counter. It was clear no one had ordered it in a long time.
The suited man swiveled his chair to the right of him, to face Dunelly.
“You do realise are plenty of other chairs here?” Said the private investigator, looking over with a suspicious look, but obviously grateful for the drink.
“You look like an honest guy. Let’s play a game,” said the suited man. “You’re mister tough guy, whiskey on the rocks,” He said, in a gruff, almost mocking tone. “From the look of the stains on that counter, you’ve been ordering the same thing every night, for a very long time.”
“So what of it?”
“If I can order you something new, and you like it, you buy my next drink. If you don’t like it, I’ll tip the bartender an extra fifty percent.”
The bartender noticeably perked up at the idea, and after seeing him get excited, Dunelly would be hard pressed to let him down. Plus, he had tried wines and margaritas and none had scratched that itch quite like a nice cold rye.
“Deal.”
The suited man looked Dunelly up and down, then took a slow look around the bartop area, before finally speaking.
“Gin martini, dry, throw in an extra olive, and make sure my buddy here pays you before you leave.” The bartender immediately got to work after hearing the order, mixing everything up before pouring a nice glass for the detective.
Dunelly took a sip and set down the drink, looking at the businessman with an almost annoyed look, and then fished out twenty five dollars from his wallet and handed it to the bartender, who quickly got on making their drinks a double.
“You are my new favorite person,” said the bartender, putting the money in the breast pocket of his apron.
Dunelly had gotten used to the light weight in his wallet. “And my new least favorite, mister…?” Dunelly asked.
“Porter. Liam porter.”
The police officer looked the suited man up and down.
“I heard about you. Aren’t you the new hire down at the city branch? When they promoted the head of the PI department to sheriff…”
“They brought me along to take his place, yes.” Porter responded, putting out his hand. Dunelly gave his hand a firm shake.
“So what are you doing down here?” the bartender inquired.
“Well, there's a case I was hoping to discuss. It’s one that’s been open for quite some time, but I feel like if we dug our heels in and really got into it, we could save a few more lives.’ The bartender and Dunelly looked at each other.
“The Catharsis Killer.” exhaled the bartender. Not much excitement happened in this town, so it wasn’t a difficult inference.
“You see, that's the thing.” Dunelly pulled out a cigar from a nice wooden box in his coat pocket, cut the end, and held it out. The bartender struck a match to light it for him. “I’ve been barred from that case with my promotion.”
“Congratulations, by the power vested in me as the new head of investigations, you’ve been reinstated in the case. Now would you like to take a walk down to the station with me?”
Dunelly looked back over to the bartender, then back at the detective.
“Have a good evening, Randall.” said Dunelly. “I have something to get to.”