A Beautiful Corpse. Christi Daugherty

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      Half an hour later, Harper parked the Camaro in a shady spot on a narrow lane on the other side of downtown.

      Tucked away not far from the Savannah College of Art and Design, College Row was quiet and dingy during the day, littered with empty beer cans and cigarette butts. The short alley served no purpose except to hold two bars and a small clothes shop, known for its quirky T-shirts.

      The lights were off in the Library Bar when she walked up. Its sign – an open book with a martini glass perched on it – was unlit.

      When she tried the door, Harper found it locked.

      ‘Hello?’ she called, knocking on the door. ‘Is anyone in there?’

      No response. She knocked again, raising her voice.

      ‘Hello?’

      This time, something inside stirred. She heard footsteps shuffling across the room.

      After a minute, the door opened a crack.

      A rumpled, lived-in face peered out at her.

      Harper barely recognized Jim ‘Fitz’ Fitzgerald, the bar’s jovial owner. Normally, he was a natty dresser, with a penchant for tweed jackets, turned-up cuffs and crisp, white shirts. Today, he wore a flannel shirt and wrinkled slacks, his thick, graying hair waved wildly.

      ‘We’re closed right now,’ he told her, and began to shut the door.

      Harper moved quickly, angling her body so it would have been rude – if not impossible – to close the door on her.

      ‘Hi, Fitz,’ she said. ‘I don’t know if you’ll remember me, but I’m a friend of Bonnie’s. Harper McClain, from the newspaper?’

      For a moment he didn’t react, but then recognition dawned.

      ‘You’re that police reporter,’ he said. ‘The one who got shot.’

      Even from here, she could smell the medicinal tang of vodka on his breath.

      ‘That’s me,’ she said. ‘Look, I hate to bother you at a time like this, but I need to ask you a few questions about Naomi Scott.’

      ‘Oh, lord. I don’t know.’ He peered at her blearily. ‘Would you want to print this?’

      ‘I need someone who knows her to talk to me about the kind of person she was,’ she said, avoiding his question. ‘I only met her a few times, but I know she was a smart, kind person. I need someone to tell me who she was so people who never met her can understand.’

      He studied her with red-rimmed eyes. ‘I don’t know if her family would want me to talk.’

      ‘You’d be doing them a favor,’ she told him. And this, at least, was the truth. ‘They know how wonderful their daughter was but talking to me will be hard for them right now.’

      He hesitated, leaning hard against the door, one hand still poised to push it shut.

      ‘I’d really appreciate your help.’ Harper held his gaze steadily.

      Finally, he took a step back.

      ‘I guess you better come in. We’re letting the air out.’

      Harper followed, closing the door behind her.

      Inside it was dim and cool. It smelled faintly of disinfectant and beer.

      Fitz shuffled to the bar and climbed unsteadily onto a stool in front of a tall glass filled with ice and clear liquid.

      Harper perched on the stool next to his.

      ‘I can’t understand it.’ He turned to her, his face haunted beneath that tangle of hair. ‘She was right here last night.’ He pointed across the bar to the empty space in front of the bottles. ‘She was fine. Now, they say she’s dead.’

      Ice rattled as he lifted the glass and took a long, shaky drink.

      It was ten thirty in the morning. If he was already drunk, Harper couldn’t imagine what he’d be like a few hours later.

      She needed him to talk quickly before he passed out.

      ‘What can you tell me about Naomi?’ she asked. ‘What was she really like?’

      ‘Oh, everyone who knew her will tell you she was a great kid.’ He stared into his glass. ‘And it’s true. Hard worker. Smart as hell. Always smiling. People came in here just to see her smile, I swear. And ambitious as hell. I thought she’d be president someday.’ He looked at her helplessly. ‘Who would do this to her? Can you tell me that much at least?’

      He seemed genuinely grief-stricken.

      To an extent, this fit with what Harper knew of him. She didn’t encounter Fitz often – he didn’t tend to hang around on the late shift, and she rarely arrived at the bar before one in the morning. But Bonnie always described him affectionately.

      ‘Fitz is everyone’s dad,’ she’d told Harper once. ‘He worries about me more than my own father does.’

      Still, Naomi had only worked at the bar a few months. Harper was a little surprised at the intensity of his reaction.

      ‘Were you close to Naomi?’ she asked. ‘Did you know her family well?’

      ‘I met her dad a few times when he came to pick her up.’ He reached for his glass. ‘Can’t say I know him particularly well. But he’s a good man.’ He took a long drink, the ice rattling in his glass, before adding, morosely, ‘This’ll kill him.’

      ‘I know the police are on this,’ she told him. ‘They want to get this guy.’

      ‘They better get him.’

      Reaching across the counter he swiped up a bottle from the other side and poured himself an unhealthy measure.

      ‘Can you tell me anything else about her?’ she asked.

      He waved his glass.

      ‘Her mom passed a few years ago. Her dad’s a cab driver.’ He’d begun to slur his words. ‘She was an only child – she and her father were very close.’

      He slapped his hand hard on the bar. ‘Dammit. This doesn’t make sense. I keep thinking someone will come in here and tell me it was a mistake. For a minute, that’s what I thought you were here for.’

      ‘What about her boyfriend?’ Harper asked. ‘Wilson Shepherd, isn’t that his name?’

      ‘Wilson?’ His gaze sharpened. ‘What about him?’

      ‘How long had they been together?’

      ‘A year maybe?’ He rubbed his face, his hand rasping across his unshaven jaw. ‘Poor old Wilson.’

      ‘The police think he did it,’ she told him, watching for his reaction.

      ‘What?’ СКАЧАТЬ