Excerpt
Nathaniel’s truck was gone when Investigator David Sherman arrived. Walking fast he probably made it to his truck in less than twenty minutes.

A little less noticeable now in his jeans, boots, and pullover shirt that he’d worn out to the woods early that morning where searchers continued looking for Maggie’s body, he stepped across the threshold of Pepe’s Pub.

Pepe greeted him not too ceremoniously.
“What the hell you doing here again? I thought we conducted our business last night.”

“Just a few questions I need to clear up,” David countered with a scalding frown.

Pepe glanced up and down David’s body from wind blown hair to cowboy boots. “Well, at least you’ve improved your style. Man, get your business done quickly and leave. My customers aren’t comfortable with badges parading around here.”

“Glad to oblige,” David said, sniffing the aged smell of beer, cigarettes, and sweat. If there was any oxygen in the place his lungs were having trouble finding it.

He questioned several old drunks who admitted seeing Nathaniel at Pepe’s on the night of the murder. He jotted down notes about the time they saw Nathaniel there and the time they thought he left.

David inquired if anyone saw Nathaniel talk to anyone at the bar, show interest in any of the customers, or act strange by saying or doing something that drew attention to him. About all David got out of them is that they’d seen Nathaniel come in, but hadn’t paid any further attention to him.

“How is it you noticed him coming in, but didn’t notice him leaving?” David asked.

“Every one of us watches the door when it opens, afraid it might be our old lady coming to drag our asses home. That’s why we turn to look at everybody that comes through the door," said an old snaggle-toothed drunk.

“How do you know when someone is coming or going?” David asked facetiously.

“That’s easy. If you see an ass, they’re going. You see a face, they’re coming.”