Jack Beale 00 - Killer Run

brushing, dark circles surrounded his eyes which were black and piercing, and his thick glasses made those eyes look buggy, like those on a fancy goldfish. He was wearing a zip-front, hooded sweatshirt that was partially unzipped, revealing a plaid shirt that was buttoned all the way up. He looked like someone who just never quite figured it out as far as fashion was concerned. She had to catch herself from staring.
    “Oh, hello. I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”
    “That’s okay.”
    Max detected a hint of an accent. “ Boston? No, but definitely in the area, ” she thought. No matter, she was struck by how the voice just didn’t go with the man sitting in front of her.
    “What can I get you?”
    “How about glass of white zinfandel?” Then he added, “and a menu.”
    Max handed him a menu and turned away to get the wine just as Patti arrived to pick up some waiting drinks. “These mine, Max?”
    Max turned in Patti’s direction, holding his glass of wine in her hand. She walked over to where Patti was standing at the end of the bar. They were too busy to notice how the man’s head snapped around when Patti spoke Max’s name. Nor did they see that he was staring at them.
    “ So, you’re Max, ” he thought to himself.
    As Patti left with her drinks, Max turned and walked toward him with his glass of white zinfandel. “I’m sorry,” she said as she placed it in front of him.
    “That’s okay,” he said. He continued to stare intently at her.
    His expression was making her uncomfortable. “Would you like something to eat?” asked Max, trying to avoid his gaze.
    “Yes. I’ll have a Caesar salad.”
    As soon as he said yes, she thought, “ Thank you. ” This would give her an excuse to go to the kitchen. She would not have to stay at the bar and engage him in conversation. She asked, “Would you like that with chicken or grilled salmon?”
    “Salmon,” he answered.
    “Very good. I’ll get that going right away,” she said and turned to place the order. Since it was now the off-season, the chef would grill the salmon, but she would have to make the salad and that meant she had a reason to go to the kitchen, giving her an excuse to not have to stay at the bar and engage him in conversation.
    Max was assembling the salad when Patti came into the kitchen. “What’s with that guy at the bar?” she asked in a forced but not too soft whisper.
    “I don’t know, but he gives me the creeps,” said Max. “At least he ordered a salad. I can hide in here for a few minutes.”
    Max stalled as long as she could, but the salmon wasn’t ready so she had to return to the bar without the salad. On the other hand, now she’d get to leave the bar again.
    When she walked back into the bar, she was surprised to see the local guys there. Leo, Ralph, and Paulie were nice enough, but only in small doses. Almost anything they heard, from almost any source, was usually treated as fact, and they were nosier than any group of gossips. “ Perfect, ” thought Max, “ can it get any worse? ”
    As she walked behind the bar, expecting the worst, the best she could hope for happened. The three of them were trying really hard to engage the odd-looking man in conversation, which meant that she wouldn’t have to talk to any of them. She knew what the guys drank, so all she had to do was place beers in front of them and listen to their blather while waiting to go pick up the salad.
    “What do you do?” asked Leo.
    Ralph chimed in, “So where’re you from?”
    “I have an antiques shop in Essex, Mass,” he said reluctantly, answering both questions at the same time. Inside he was annoyed that he would have to deal with them. It was Max that he wanted to talk to. She had the quilt and he needed to find out more so he could get it.
    “That’s down by the cape, isn’t it?” said Leo.
    Paulie smacked him on the shoulder, “You idiot. How long have you lived here?”
    “Most’ve my life.”
    “Then you should know that it’s down on Cape Ann, by Ipswich.” Then, turning to Alfred, he added, “Right?”
    Alfred looked at him with those goldfish eyes and said, in a kind of disinterested tone, “Yes.” He really didn’t enjoy these kinds of conversations, especially with ‘know-it-all’ fools. But, they were obviously regulars and not going away. He thought to himself that perhaps they could prove useful, so he played along. “What do you guys do? You’re obviously from around