Jessica thought she saw his face twitch involuntarily at the mention of Alicia’s name, but he said nothing.

She went on. “I specifically wanted to ask you about a man called Rob Young. I believe he was a lodger of yours at the time of the incident?”

McCool ignored her and turned his attention back to the cards. A minute passed in silence. Then two minutes.

Then he said, “You need to leave now.”

“If you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine. I’ll leave you alone. But I have as much right to drink in this bar as you or anyone else.”

“I’m not talking about the bar. I’m not even talking about Eagle Rock. I’m talking about LA. Get out of town tonight if you know what’s good for you.”

“Is that a threat?”

McCool shrugged and took a slug of beer from his own glass. The two drinks Jessica had bought for him remained untouched. “If you say so.”

“And if I don’t leave town?”

McCool stunned her by swiping his hand across the table, sending the cards fluttering onto the floor. He squeezed out of the booth and leaned over her, palms pressed against the table. He was so close Jessica could smell the whiskey on his breath.

“Game over,” he said. “That’s what.”

Jessica watched him leave, then picked up her own whiskey and drank it in one go. Then she sank the one she’d bought for Mack McCool.

“That went well,” Razor said, eyeing the cards scattered around the booth as she returned to the stool.

She placed the empty tumbler on the counter. “Stick another one in there, will you?”

Razor poured generously from the bottle of Royal Emblem and placed the drink on a napkin. “Don’t take it personally,” he said. “Old McCool isn’t exactly known for his social skills around here. First time I’ve seen him lose his shit like that myself, to be fair, but I hear he has a real mean temper.”

As Jessica rummaged in her bag for her wallet to pay the bartender, she became aware of movement out of the corner of her eye. The construction worker from her first night in Ace’s Bar had parked himself on the popped-pimple stool right next to her own.

“Oh, great,” she muttered under her breath.

The guy leaned into her, completely invading Jessica’s personal space. He pointed to her drink. “That one’s on me, sweetheart.”

His breath smelled minty, like he’d just popped a couple of Altoids. He signaled to Razor to pour the same again for himself. Jessica was about to tell the construction guy where to get off when he introduced himself.

“Hank Stevenson,” he said. “I saw you in here a coupla nights ago. You got a name?”