Page 98 of Stay Awake
“She’s changed her hairstyle.” Halliday shouted to be heard over the explosion of noise as she spoke to a cop standing near a velvet rope inside the entrance.
“What do you mean?”
“We’re not looking for a female suspect with long dark hair anymore. The photo on this notice and in the media is out of date. She cut her hair. We’re looking for a woman with short hair. Tell your people.”
Lavelle and Halliday split up. They moved through the crowds, showing patrons a digitally enhanced photo of what Liv Reese would look like with short hair.
“Have you seen this woman?” Halliday showed the photograph on her phone screen to a waitress clearing empty beer bottles from a ledge.
“Sure. She comes here a lot,” the waitress yelled back.
“Has she been here tonight?”
“Beats me. Ask Harry. She always gravitates to his end of the bar. We think she has a crush on him.”
Halliday waded into a tight knot of drinkers to get to the bar. “Watch it,” she said when she was jostled by a drunk man passing her.
A bartender with a nose ring told her that Harry had gone to the storage room and would be back shortly. While she waited, Halliday talked to a few customers hunching over their drinks. They all shook their heads when she showed them the updated photograph of Liv Reese. Some of them appeared so drunk that Halliday doubted whether they’d have recognized photos of their own grandmothers.
A bartender with sleeves rolled up to his elbows came out of aSTAFF ONLYdoor, carrying a cardboard box of chilled juices. He squatted down and packed the bottles into a fridge under the bar.
“What can I get you?” he asked Halliday when he stood up.
She held up her detective’s shield and her phone with the photo of Liv Reese. “We’re looking for this woman.”
“Yeah, I know her. What do you want with her?”
“She’s suspected of murder.”
The bartender’s head snapped up. “Liv? No way. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. Sure, she has issues. She comes in here every night like it’s the first time she’s ever seen the place. I don’t know how many times I’ve had the same conversation with her. But murder. Man, that’s nuts.”
“Ever seen her here with this guy?” Halliday swiped her phone to a photograph of Ted Cole.
“Sure. Liv was here with him a couple of nights ago. Nice guy. British. We had a long talk.”
“About what?”
“Liv, of course.”
“What about Liv?”
“He was worried people could take advantage of her because of hermemory issues. Exploit her or lure her away. He said it would be like taking candy from a baby.” He poured a whiskey sour and slid the glass over to a customer.
“When was she last here?” Halliday asked, gesturing to Lavelle to come over.
“She left a few minutes ago,” said the bartender. “She was feeling claustrophobic and asked me to let her out through the back.”
“So she’s gone?”
Halliday looked at Lavelle incredulously as he joined her at the bar.
“Yeah,” the bartender admitted.
“Any idea where she went?” Halliday asked.
“Maybe she went back to her apartment. She lives near here.”
“Do you know where?”
