Jack Beale 00 - Killer Run

back.”
    Alfred smiled and tipped his glass toward her as if to say, “Sure, sounds like a plan.” He took another sip as she walked out of the bar.
    * * *
    Jack had finished the first half of his run in about twenty minutes. Then he saw Leo driving toward him. Even in the gloom of dusk Leo’s truck was unmistakable, so Jack deliberately stepped off the pavement. Leo had a long history of driving mishaps, and in this low light, Jack preferred not to take a chance.
    As Leo was about to drive past, he slowed, rolled down his window, and shouted, “Hey, Jack! Max needs you at the bar!” Then he kept on going.
    Jack stopped running for a moment as he tried to comprehend what Leo had shouted at him. He turned to call him back, but he was already too far down the road. Why would Max need him at the bar?
    * * *
    Before Max assembled the salad, she picked up the kitchen phone and redialed Tom’s number. Still no answer. As she waited for the salmon to finish cooking, she hoped he’d get the message very soon.
    * * *
    Jack began running again. There were a million reasons why she could want him back at the bar. Most were quite innocent, but to send Leo and the boys out to relay a message? It couldn’t be good. He noted where he was, glanced at his watch and quickly calculated that he could be back in fifteen minutes or less if he really picked up the pace.

CHAPTER 95
    WHILE MAX WAS IN THE KITCHEN making his salad, Alfred sat sipping his wine and looking around the bar. There were quite a few interesting pieces in the room: old wooden lobster buoys, some brass lanterns, a ship’s wheel, an oar from a rowing shell. He was always looking to buy or sell something, so he made a note to contact the owner. As he studied an old sign on the wall behind the bar, a red light on the phone caught his eye.
    When he came in to Ben’s he remembered seeing a sign that said, BAR OPEN – PLEASE BE SEATED. The antiques and the sign behind the bar were promptly forgotten as he considered that red light. If only the bar were open, then only Max and whoever was in the kitchen were working. Who was on the phone? “ It must be her, ” he thought angrily, his paranoia was beginning to surface. He hadn’t seen anyone else in the restaurant or bar since his arrival, other than the three guys, and they were gone. “ That bitch, ” he thought to himself. “ She’s going to ruin everything. ”
    The confidence that he had come in with, the certainty that everything was going to turn out as he had planned, began to drain away. It was replaced with apprehension, and he could feel tension building throughout his body. He watched that little red light and it wasn’t going out. He kept staring at it while conversations and scenarios played through his mind. The voices returned. He was feeling warm, almost claustrophobic, when the light finally went out. Picking up a bar napkin, he wiped the sweat off his forehead, took several deep calming breaths, gulped down the last of his wine, and waited for Max.
    “Here we go.” Max walked back into the bar carrying his salad. She was working hard to relax and not give away her increasing sense of panic. She hoped he didn’t hear the quiver in her voice.
    As she placed the salad down in front of him, along with a fork, she noticed the empty glass. “Another wine?” she asked.
    He said, “Sure, that would be nice.” Then, looking at the salad he added, “And a knife, too.”
    Max thought she detected a slight tremble in his voice. Turning, she said, “Sure.” Then, before she poured the wine, she looked him straight in the face. She wasn’t sure, but he seemed to be sweating, and despite those thick glasses, his eyes seemed to have hardened somehow.
    Alfred watched as she turned away from him to pour his wine. The tension that he had only sensed before was now obvious. It was clear that she was struggling not to spill the wine.
    Max felt as if her whole arm was trembling, and as she went to replace the bottle in the cooler, it no longer seemed to fit in the spot from which she had taken it. The noise of glass on glass was amplified by the silence of the room. Finally, she managed to get the bottle nestled back in its place, and she pulled the cover of the cooler toward her to close it, hesitating for a split second before turning back to face him. Forcing herself to remain calm she placed the wine in front of him.
    Their eyes met for a moment, as if they were playing a game of