I nodded to Winn. “John, this is Winslow Covington.”
“The new chief.” He held his hand out to Winn. “Welcome to Quincy.”
“Thanks.” She shook his hand, then slid onto a stool. “Mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“Depends on the questions.”
I took the seat beside her, and before she could launch into her questions, I ordered a beer. “Bud Light for me, John. Vodka tonic for the chief.”
“I’m on duty,” she muttered as he walked away.
“Then don’t drink it.”
She shot me that stern frown again. It, like everything else with this woman, was frustratingly sexy. “This is quite the place.”
“It used to be one of the Eden family businesses. My great-uncle was Big Sam.” The new owners hadn’t changed the name, probably because it went with their cheesy theme, but that was about the only thing left from the bar it had once been.
“Used to be?”
“Sam was more about the drinking than he was about running a business. He sold it to the current owners before it went under.”
“Ah. Is John one of the owners?”
“No, the manager. But if Lily was here Sunday night, he’s your best bet at getting information. He works most weekends.”
“Can’t I just ask him? Why did you order us a drink?”
I leaned in closer, my shoulder brushing hers. “Bartenders in small towns always know what’s going on. They hear the gossip. They see the excitement. But they also protect their own. John’s a good guy but he doesn’t know you, and he doesn’t trust outsiders.”
She gritted her teeth. “Do you have to keep calling me that?”
“It’s what you are. Want to fit in? Sit here with me. Order a drink. Leave him a decent tip. You want to stop being an outsider, then get to know the community.”
“Fine.” She sighed as John returned with our drinks. “Thank you.”
He nodded as she lifted the glass to her lips, sending me a glare over the rim.
I grinned and sipped my beer.
“So what are these questions?” John asked, leaning a hip against the bar.
“I’m trying to learn more about Lily Green. She was—”
“I know who she was.”
Winn stiffened at his sharp tone. “Do you remember seeing her here on Saturday or Sunday night?”
“No, she wasn’t here.”
“Did she come in often? Her mother said that since she turned twenty-one, she came to the bars often on the weekends.”
John shrugged. “No more than any of the other kids around here. They come down. Have a few drinks and play pool. Mix with the tourists.”
“Was there anyone in particular you saw Lily with more than once?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Her regular group of friends.”
Who Winslow would have known had she been from here. It was a dig on John’s part. He could have just as easily rattled off the list of friends’ names.
But he didn’t need to. Because Winn did it for him.
“Frannie Jones. Sarina Miles. Conor Himmel. Henry Jacks. Bailey Kennedy. Clarissa Fitzgerald. Those friends?”
I took a drink to hide my smile as the smug expression vanished from John’s face.
“Yeah,” he muttered.
“Did you notice Lily with anyone else?” she asked. “Like a boyfriend?”
“No. She wasn’t that sort of girl. She’d come down, have a drink or two. Always responsible about calling a cab or catching a ride with a designated driver. I can’t think of a time when she left here with a guy.”
A crease formed between Winn’s eyebrows, like she was disappointed in that answer. What was she after? Conor would know if Lily had been seeing someone. So would Melina.
“Anything else?” John asked. “I need to check on the other tables.”
“No, thank you. I appreciate the help and it was nice to meet you.”
“Same.” John tapped on the bar, then left to take another order.
“What are you after?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
“Like I said on the ridge, I just want to retrace her steps and figure out what she was doing before she died. But sounds like she wasn’t here.”
“John would know.”
Winslow took another drink, then dug through her pocket, pulling out a twenty. “Bye, Griffin.”
She slapped the cash on the bar and headed for the door.
I ditched my beer and followed, catching up to her before she’d even stepped outside. “Let’s head to the Old Mill. Maybe she went there.”
“I don’t need an escort,” she said but fell in step beside me down the sidewalk.
“The two bars on Main bookend the touristy section of Quincy.” The Eloise Inn was almost exactly in the middle. “Want to know why?”
“Because there’s an ordinance that requires at least four hundred yards between any establishments with a liquor license.”
I grinned at the sassy smirk on her pretty mouth. “You’ve done some research.”
“No, I’ve just been here many, many times. Pops has lived here his entire adult life and loves to tell stories. I know a lot about Quincy. Even if I don’t know the people yet. Even if I’m an outsider.”
Oh, did she hate that word. I guess in her shoes, I’d hate it too.
“The ordinance was my great-great-grandmother’s idea,” I told her as we made our way across those four hundred yards toward the Old Mill. “My great-great-grandfather founded Quincy. Our family has lived here ever since. The running joke in town is that you can’t throw a rock without hitting an Eden.”
With aunts, uncles and cousins, I had countless relatives living in town. My parents had taken the unofficial helm of the family. Most of the businesses that had been started by my great-great-grandfather and his descendants had funneled down to my grandfather. He’d then passed them to my father.
Some of my other relatives were entrepreneurs in town, but for the most part, my parents, my siblings, or I owned and operated most of the businesses with the Eden name.
“Old Mill was the first bar in Quincy,” I said. “Started shortly after the town was founded. The story goes that my great-great-grandmother allowed my great-great-grandfather to open the bar but only if the bartender was employed by her. That way, she could set the rules.”
“The rules? Like how many drinks he could have?”
I nodded. “And how late to serve him. But she was worried that someone else would come in and open another bar. According to family rumor, she was a fairly shrewd businesswoman herself, so she suggested the ordinance, and since the Edens were pretty much in charge at the time . . .”
“It passed.”
“Exactly. The town was only two blocks at that time. She figured it would take a hundred years for it to double in size. A four-hundred-yard radius not only gave her control of the alcohol in town, but control over her husband’s drinking habits.”
Winn smiled. “And it hasn’t changed.”
“Nope. The town grew but that ordinance stuck around.”
“Which makes sense why Willie’s isn’t on Main.”
“It’s not long enough, so they established it five blocks off Main and it became the locals’ hangout.”