CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Officer Hendrix and Det. Miller arrived on the outskirts of town where the O’Malley’s Bar was situated. They needed to verify Johnny Hudson’s alibi concerning the Terri Helms murder.
Mike O’Malley, age forty-one, was your typical Irishman; loud, abrasive and loved his whiskey. Not much over five-foot seven-inches; but quick to draw a knife from his right boot if trouble presented itself. Green eyes and light brown wavy hair, with mutton-chop sideburns a tad darker. Somewhat heavy and hairy all over; looked like he could have come from a family of Chimpanzees definitely. Always had a peculiar smell; like day old sardines. Bathing, by far, wasn’t his forte by no stretch of the imagination.
O’Malley’s Bar was no more than an old, shotgun-style house, with the insides ripped out to make room for a makeshift bar, and some old scratched and wobbly wooden tables, with matching chairs to boot. Smoke stained walls, peeling wallpaper, and only five ceiling lightbulbs yielding their dull sheen throughout. Stained carpet with portions worn completely through to the wood beneath.
Liquor was watered down mostly; except for the good stuff supplied to those who played their illegal card games in the back room. Only one billiard table; which was old, stained with beer, and seemed to lean due to one leg being a touch shorter than the other three.
If your taste ran more toward the ‘ladies-of-the-evening,’ that could be arranged; as Mike kept an old worn mattress down in the basement. Most men frequenting this establishment would forgo the basement; after seeing the elderly whore who Mike provided for such entertainment.
She could be seen each night sitting at the end of the dilapidated bar, sitting on a makeshift stool of two-apple crates, one atop the other. Some said the appalling elderly woman was none other than Mike’s own Mother, so the story goes; said she had to earn her keep or be booted out to beg for pennies on the street.
No matter, only the truly hard up ever dared pay the one-dollar fee. But, it must be said, that more than a few eyebrows were raised one late summer’s evening several years back; when a drunken old man ventured forth to the lower region of the old bar. Upon emerging back into the shadowy lit barroom, it was said he seemed to be of good cheer and very satisfied. Right behind him, it was noted, that the elderly whore seemed pleased herself and gave a huge smile; just after popping her false teeth back into her mouth.
Some rumored the true owner of the bar was none other than Johnny Hudson himself; yet, Johnny denied any business association with his close friend Mike.
Mike O’Malley met the two officers at the entrance, “Well, top-of-the-mornin’ to ya; if it ain’t Saint Cloud’s finest; may the saints kiss the very ground you walk upon.”
O’Malley had several run-ins with the law, and made no bones about telling everyone what a bunch of lowlife scumbags he felt they were. Of course, he never ventured his opinion to anyone in the department personally.
“Let’s talk outside, I don’t want me bar gettin’ a bad reputation from the likes of you.” The irritation in his voice, and choice of words was more than evident as to his feelings for Det. Miller.
Hendrix looked at Miller as they backed out of the doorway, and made their way over by the black-and-white. O’Malley followed without further utterance.
“So Mike,” Miller used his first name knowing it would irk O’Malley, “what might you know concerning the murder of Terri Helms?”
“And just why should I know of that? I barely knew the lass.” Mike was in no mood to help the police, as he just lied about knowing Terri Helms. It was known, in hard times past, Terri would tend bar, and on rare occasions, accompany a patron or two to the basement.
“I thought, since you run a bar, you might have overheard something from one of your patrons?” Miller continued.
“Nary a word have I heard uttered about that poor lass.” Mike crossed himself, even though he hadn’t set foot in a Catholic church since he was a child.
Hendrix didn’t appreciate his religious mockery. She was growing impatient with his unacceptable attitude toward them and the deceased, “Look here buster,” she said pointing her index finger at his rather red and bulbous nose, “I’ve had just…”
Miller placed his hand on top of hers and gently guided it down, “Officer Hendrix, I’ll handle this.” He said reengaging O’Malley, “So tell me Mike, you remember the night Terri Helms was murdered?”
“Well now, I do read, don’t ya know…so of course I remember that night, very well indeed, thank you very much. If my recollection serves me true, I was here, tending bar, all night long.”
“So, do you recall seeing Johnny Hudson that night?” Miller inquired.
“Why, yes indeed, he was here the whole night, don’t ya know, drinkin’ and playin’ the old jukebox, yes sir dearie.” O’Malley’s big grin struck a sour cord with Sherry.
Miller knew she was starting to hit her boiling point; he turned his head and made eye contact with her. She looked into his eyes; as if seeking permission to stomp O’Malley’s butt into sawdust. Miller shook his head; Sherry looked down as she followed his Que.
“I’ll need you to come down to the station and make out a statement to that effect. You’ll be required to sign it as well; you understand Mike?”
“I’d be happy to grace your good station with my presence, old man. You can expect me tomorrow, to be sure.” O’Malley turned and strutted back inside.
“Oh sir, he made my blood boil, that nasty son-of-a-bitch.” Sherry vented.
“If you plan on making a career out of police work, you really need to work on your temper, you understand what I’m saying?”
“Ah, yes sir, I understand.”
Miller paused for a moment to study her facial and body language; he didn’t care for what he observed, and rightly so, for her temper would soon rear its ugly head once more; but with dire consequences.