Dead Woman Crossing by J.R. Adler (best management books of all time txt) 📕

pint glass, consuming nearly half the beer in a couple of gulps.

After the day she’d had, the beer went down like water. Crisp and refreshing.

An old man with a belly and a bald head tapped Sam on the shoulder. He clearly took no pride in his appearance as he was wearing ratty jeans and a graphic tee with a lion on it.

“Heard about the murder, Sheriff Walker. Such a shame. Hannah was a good girl,” he said, every other word slurring.

Sam nodded. “It sure is. Can’t believe something like that happened in our town. Have you heard anything, Jeff?”

Jeff rubbed the top of his head. “A lot of talk goin’ round town, like maybe Hannah was into something dirty. I’ve ’erd chatter of ’er being a sex worker.”

Sam shook his head. “This town’s only good for bullshit gossip. Where’d they get that idea from?”

“Ya know how people are round here. They make mountains out of mole hills. I’ve been tryin’ to shut it down. Hannah was a good girl. Ain’t no way she got tangled up in summin like that.”

“Who d’you hear that from?” Kimberley quickly jumped in.

“Overheard a couple of them farm boys talking about it. Not sure on their names though.”

“And you knew Hannah? How did you know her?” Kimberley asked.

“Well, I got the diabeetus, so I’m at the pharmacy a lot for my meds. She was always kind to me. Always greeted me with a smile, asked how I was.”

“Thanks, Jeff. Seen any outsiders come in recently?”

“Just some bikers, travelin’ through a week or so ago, two couples. Ya know the types? Middle-aged, dressed in leather from head to toe, riding Harleys. We get lots of bikers coming through though and I usually keeps to myself.” He looked over at Kimberley. “You must be our new chief deputy. Heard a lot about you.”

Kimberley nodded. “None of its true.”

Jeff let out a deep laugh. “She funny,” he said, pointing at Kimberley.

“Indeed. Let me know if you hear anything.” Sam sipped his beer.

“Course.”

Jeff backed away, returning to his stool in front of a slot machine.

Ryan returned from the other side of the bar. “Another one?” He gestured to the empty glass.

Kimberley nodded. “Tell me, Ryan, have you gotten any outside visitors passing through town lately?”

Ryan raised an eyebrow while refilling her pint glass. He set the beer in front of her and then scanned the bar. “Don’t really have any time to be answering your questions,” he said.

Kimberley looked around. There weren’t that many people in the bar, and it seemed everyone had already been taken care of. Ryan was being reluctant, uncooperative and it immediately raised a red flag. Was he hiding something? Or was he just not the type to talk to the police?

Kimberley looked at her watch and then back at Ryan. “Oh, gee, I didn’t even notice the time. You’re right! I guess it is time to do a full inspection on all the regs for upholding a county liquor license. Sam, where do you wanna start? I would assume kick everyone out first so as to not interfere with police business?”

“Nah. I say we ID all of them first. Make sure they are all the legal age of consumption. Log each patron and then we will need receipts and inventory logs for every bottle of alcohol. Make sure they were all purchased legally and with proper documentation and definitely make sure there’s nothing illegal like moonshine or any narcotics on the premises.”

Ryan twisted his lips and folded his arms across his chest. “Alright, alright. Just chill the fuck out. I seen a couple in here the other day, visiting from out of town. Murder tourists as they called themselves. A bit sketch, if ya ask me. Mid-thirties, from Texas or South Carolina or something, and they were in here asking a lot of questions about Dead Woman Crossing and the story of Katie DeWitt James.”

Sam gave Kimberley a puzzled look.

“You know where they were staying?” Kimberley asked.

“Nope.” Ryan shrugged his shoulders.

“They just came in here asking about murder?” Kimberley raised an eyebrow.

“Yup. Like I said a bit sketch, if ya ask me.”

“Sketch, how?” Kimberley asked.

“Ugly, missing teeth, ratty hair, like that kind of sketch…”

She wasn’t sure if Ryan didn’t know the definition of “sketch” or if this was all a load of bullshit. It seemed as though he was messing with her and Sam, and Kimberley thought the only way to get any answers out of him were in an interrogation room, not in his bar, his domain.

“When were they here?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Yesterday. Could have been the day before. Could have been both days for all I know.” Ryan rubbed his forehead.

“They talk to anyone else?” Sam asked.

“They could have. I don’t know for sure.”

Sam drained the rest of his beer and set the empty pint glass down. Without asking, Ryan refilled it, but Kimberley was sure he only did so to busy himself, to get out of this conversation. She wasn’t buying his story. It was too buttoned up. Too pretty. Like a wrapped gift with a big bow. Ryan seemed to just be giving enough information to appease so he could get on with his day. But why? Why lead the police astray? Why give some false accounts of a couple of murder tourists stopping into his bar? Was Ryan hiding something? Or was he just what Sam had described him as, the town dipshit?

He set the beer down in front of Sam, telling him it was on the house.

Jeff meandered back over to the bar with his glass full of ice. “Ryan, ’nother Jack and Coke,” he said.

“You got it, Jeff.” Ryan collected the glass and busied himself with making a fresh drink.

“Hey, Jeff. You see a couple in their mid-thirties here talking about murder and the history of Dead Woman Crossing this week?” Sam asked. He had smelled Ryan’s bullshit too.

Jeff leaned against the bar, squinting one of his eyes. “Can’t say I have.”

“You been in here