Jimmy shook his head.
"Melissa has never liked Bernardo."
"Is he your friend?"
"Not really. I knew him in high school." Jimmy's eyes narrowed.
"You still haven't told me what's up."
"I'm interested in Bernardo's attitude toward women."
"That's all you're going to tell me?"
Kerney nodded.
"For now. Did Bernardo come on to the waitress?"
"He tried, but she just blew him off. That got him pretty angry."
"In what way?"
"He started calling her names."
"To her face?"
"Nah, behind her back."
"What did he say to you about her?"
"That she was probably nothing but a slut who put out for anybody with a six-pack of beer and a hard dick."
"Did you think that was true?"
"From what I could tell, he was way off base."
"How so?"
"When Bernardo hit on her, she handled it real well.
She showed him her wedding ring and made like a joke out of it-said her husband didn't let her date other men."
"The barmaid didn't play up to Bernardo or lead him on?"
"Not at all."
"How did Bernardo handle her rejection?"
"It pissed him off. He didn't believe she was married.
He wanted to bet me he could get in her pants."
"Did you take him up on the bet?"
"No way. I told him he was full of shit and to leave her alone."
"Did anything else happen between Bernardo and the barmaid?"
"Not while I was there."
"Did you leave the bar with Bernardo?"
Wooten shook his head.
"Nope. Bernardo said he was going to stay until the place closed. I don't do that kind of drinking."
"Do you remember the barmaid's name?"
"Kerri something."
"What bar does she work at?"
"The Rough Rider."
Thanks," Kerney said.
"Enjoy your leave time at home."
"You still haven't told me what this is all about."
Kerney smiled.
"No, I haven't."
Kerney made a quick stop at the Rough Rider Bar and spoke with the owner, who told him that Kerri Crombie had worked all her regular shifts, including last night, and was due back at six o'clock in the evening.
He found out Crombie was married, had a little girl, and lived in a subdivision near a post secondary vocational school just outside of the city limits.
The working-class neighborhood sat on a small bluff overlooking the Gallinas River on a parcel of land that had once been part of a National Guard training encampment. Members of the 200th Coast Artillery Battalion had trained at the camp prior to the start of World War II Many of them died during the infamous Bataan death march after th e Japanese invasion of the Philippines.
The neighborhood consisted of older flat-roof frame and stucco houses on small, rectangular lots. Over the years, some of the homeowners had converted the attached single-car garages into living spaces, added carports, and enclosed the front porches to create sun-rooms. Their front yards were neat and tidy.
Other dwellings were in disrepair. Blistered paint peeled off trim work, porches sagged, and yards were littered with discarded auto parts, motor oil cans, old water heaters, and broken lawn mowers.
Two large evergreen trees towered over the Crombie house. Planting beds bordered the walkway to the house, and a carpet of Bermuda grass stretched from the porch to the sidewalk. On the porch was a child-size plastic play table, with a miniature tea service neatly arranged for two.
Kerney knocked, got no answer, and found a woman in the backyard hanging laundry. A little girl, no more than five years old, stood at her side.