Page 109 of The Grave Artist

“Hey, you got good taste,” he said, switching to English. The man’s smile widened as he turned to the tap to pull Ryan a house beer before crossing to the whiskey section to prepare her drink.

Even to her unpracticed eye, he seemed to put a lot of booze in the tumbler before adding the other ingredients and shaking it. She also caught the surreptitious wink he gave Ryan.

So this was the kind of bartender who would help get a young woman drunk to make things easier for their dates.

Lovely.

She assessed his height and weight and wondered if a single kick to the cojones would bring him down.

Well, she wasn’t here to correct men who needed correcting.

He plunked the glass in front of her, but she merely swirled it around, then pretended to sip.

“You’re Nando.”

A grunt.

“I hear you can be helpful,” Ryan cut in.

Nando gave her another slow perusal, then turned back to Ryan.

“Sometimes. Depends.”

“I’ve got a problem that needs fixing,” Ryan said. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I’d like to talk to Sweeney about it.”

Nando, who had begun wiping glasses with a grubby rag, froze for an instant before resuming the motion. “Don’t know any Sweeney.”

Ryan cocked his head. “Funny. I was told he hangs out here.”

“A lot of people hang out here.”

Selina glanced around the bar, deserted except for one wiry man in a sweat-stained undershirt and jeans and a woman sipping a drink that looked a lot like hers. Ryan shot Selina a quelling look and she refrained from calling out Nando on his dubious assessment of Paquito’s popularity.

“Maybe you pass some information to him?” Ryan asked, trying to salvage the mission. “I’ve got money. You can have a finder’s fee.”

“Can’t help you.”

“You sure? I’m talking some serious green.”

“No green. No Sweeney.”

She couldn’t really blame Nando. Ryan looked like just who he was. A cop.

This was going nowhere. Selina decided to enact plan B.

When the bartender wasn’t looking, she slowly poured the drink out on the floor at her feet. Ryan was the only one who saw, and he frowned.

She slapped the empty glass down. “Gimme another, huh?”

Nando blinked and picked up the glass. She said, “I’m new here but I like fucking California! Twenty-year-olds can drink.”

Nando froze. “What? Hold on a sec, you didn’t tell me you were under twenty-one!”

“She doesn’t have to,” Ryan said, pulling out his gold shield. “It’s your job to check.”

“This is bullshit.” Nando jabbed a finger at Ryan. “It’s ... it’s ... what the hell is the word? Trapping or something.”

“It’s not entrapment,” Ryan said coolly. “Your job is to ask for ID. You didn’t. This bar’s been fined three times already. Another violation and you’ll lose your liquor license for six months.” He gestured around. “I don’t think customers will keep coming here to sip soft drinks and take in the ambience.”