I introduced myself. "I'd like to talk to you, if you don't mind."

Rick lounged in his seat, hooking his arm over the back of his chair while he checked me out. His legs were now extended insolently into my path. The pose was probably meant to look macho, but I suspected his waistband had jammed his stomach right up against his spleen and he was affording himself some relief. "I heard about you. You're that private detective old man Fowler hired." His tone was knowing. Nobody was going to put one over on him.

"Could I sit down?"

Rick motioned me to a chair, which he kicked out with his foot – his notion of etiquette. I sat down. Cherie didn't seem thrilled with my company, but at least it saved her being alone with him. "So what's the deal?" he said.

"The deal?"

"Yeah. What do you want with me?"

"Information about the murder. I understand you saw Bailey and Jean together the night she was killed."

"What of it?"

"Can you tell me what happened? I'm trying to get a feel for what was going on."

From the far side of the room, I saw Pearl's attention focus on our table. He extracted himself from his conversation and ambled over. He was a big man, so that even the exertion of crossing the room left him breathing heavily. "I see you've met my boy and his wife."

I rose halfway from my seat and shook his hand. "How are you, Pearl? Are you joining us?"

"Could." He pulled out a chair and took a seat, signaling to Daisy to bring him a beer. "You fellas want anything?"

Cherie shook her head. Rick ordered another beer.

"How about you?" Pearl said to me.

"I'm fine."

He held up two fingers and Daisy began to fill a jar from the dispenser hose at the bar. Pearl turned back to me. "They catch Bailey yet?"

"Not as far as I know."

"Heard Royce had him a heart attack."

"An attack of some kind. I'm not sure what it was. He's in the hospital now, but I haven't really talked to him."

"Fella's not long for this world."

"Which is why I hope to wrap this thing up," I said. "I was just asking Rick about the night he saw Jean Timberlake."

"Sorry to interrupt. You go right ahead."

"Not much to tell," Rick said uncomfortably. "I drove by and spotted the two of 'em getting out of Bailey's truck. They looked drunk to me."

"They were staggering?"

"Well, not that, but hanging on to each other."

"And that was midnight?"

Rick made a visual reference to his father, who had turned at Daisy's approach. "Could have been a little after that, but right around there." Daisy put the two beers on the table and went back to the bar.

"You see any cars passing? Anybody else on the street?"

"Nuh-unh."

"Bailey says it was ten o'clock. I'm puzzled by the discrepancy."