Once upon a time, he’d played that game. Joy had been part of it.
He’d learned his lesson and hadn’t engaged since. Two women at the bar, midtwenties, attractive and built, wearing skimpy outfits, gave him flirtatious looks. He shot them a half smile then walked to the opposite end and slid onto a bar stool to face the door so he’d have a view of the dance floor where couples gyrated to the music.
The bartender, a bearded, broad-shouldered gym rat named Boone, flicked his hand up in recognition, and Griff ordered an IPA. He waited until Boone brought him the beer, then motioned that he wanted to talk.
“What’s up?” Boone asked.
“You heard about Joy Norris being murdered?”
Boone nodded. “Yeah, sorry to hear it. Didn’t the two of you date for a while?”
“Very briefly,” Griff said. “But I learned she was married at the time and that was it.”
“Most of the dudes here don’t give a damn if a woman has a ring.” Boone made a low sound in his throat. “Truth is, half the women don’t either.”
A damn shame. His parents would still be married and faithful to each other if they were alive. He had a feeling Jacob and Cora, and Fletch and Jade would be the same. “Did you see Joy hanging out with anyone recently?”
Boone scratched his fingers through his beard. “She didn’t come in that much. But she was here a couple of weeks ago with some guy in a suit. That’s the reason it stuck out.” He gestured toward the casual atmosphere. “He didn’t seem to fit in.”
“Were they getting along?”
“He was all over her,” Boone said. “And seemed protective. Some other guy offered to buy her a drink, and the date turned all huffy and macho. I thought he was going to punch the poor bastard out.”
Griff’s suspicious nature surfaced. “What was the date’s name?”
Boone scrunched his face in thought, then gestured to one of the waitresses that he’d work on her drink order. “Can’t really remember. Something kind of uppity, like Winston or William.”
“Can you describe him?”
Two guys leaned on the bar and called Boone’s name. “You gonna get us a beer or talk all night?”
“Sorry, man, customers are waiting.” Boone tossed the towel over his shoulder, picked up a mug and began to fill it from the tap.
“Just a quick description,” Griff said.
“Tall, dressed well, sandy blond hair. Real intense guy. Not a body builder or anything but strong looking. He had these beady eyes. Kind of dude you wouldn’t want to mess with.”
The waitress appeared for the beer, and Boone hurried to take care of the guys who were calling his name again.
Griff stewed over the information as he studied the crowd in case the man Boone described was in the room.
But someone else caught his eye. A woman with ivory skin and soft black hair who’d just come in the door.
Ginny.
Dammit to hell, what was she doing here?
Chapter Eight
Ginny had not been on a date since her experience with Robert. Not that this was a real date, but she had to pretend.
Nerves tightened her shoulder blades as she surveyed the interior of the bar. The country music and relaxed decor didn’t fit with Robert. Typically, he preferred more upscale places although Whistler wasn’t exactly big-city living so the choices were limited. And it was possible he was trying to keep a low profile to avoid detection.
She headed toward the right to the adjoining dining area where the music volume was lower as were the lights, creating a more intimate atmosphere. White tablecloths, each adorned with a vase of a single rose, added a hint of romance.
Her stomach churned. Robert would choose the more intimate side.
The hostess for the restaurant side was a tall blonde who wore a simple black dress with glittery jewelry. Robert’s type. Although he had told her he had a thing for redheads.
She requested a table facing the door, and the hostess escorted her to a small table in a dimly lit section.
Clutching her purse, which held her .22, in her lap, she seated herself so she could see anyone who entered or left.
Karl Cross said he’d be wearing a navy sport coat and khakis, a little underdressed for Robert, but it might be his attempt to fit into the town and not draw suspicion to himself.
She ordered water and a glass of white wine although she left the wine untouched. Didn’t want alcohol interfering with her reflexes if she needed to defend herself. She sipped her water and waited, surprised at the number of single women crowding into the bar area.
She had never been a fan of the bar scene, had always thought it dangerous. The online dating site had been just as bad. The attractive profiles could easily sway a woman into believing she’d met her Prince Charming, yet in reality the person behind the face on-screen might be an amphibian beneath the facade.
A man with silver-tipped dark hair entered, then a cowboy in a Stetson. The cowboy headed toward the bar while the other man paused and looked around, then turned to the dining area. He was wearing a dark sport coat. She tensed as he scanned the room.
Not Robert. Was he Karl Cross?
She took another sip of water as he started to cross the room, but he bypassed her table and joined a middle-aged woman at the table near her. She was so busy watching the couple kiss that she didn’t notice another man approaching until she felt his presence beside her table. A shadow moved into her vision, and she looked up, her chest clenching.
He was tall, dark haired, medium build, nice looking.
But he wasn’t Robert.
He offered her a cocky smile. “June?”
“That’s me,” she said, itching to leave already. Although if Robert hadn’t killed Joy, she could have met another predator online. This could be him.
He slid into the chair and raked his gaze over her. Her first instinct was to jut her chin up in challenge, but she was supposed to be quiet, shy, bookish June so refrained.
“A pleasure to meet you,” he said. “You have an interesting profile.”
She gave him a shy smile. “So do you. Do you live in Whistler?”
He shook his head. “I have a cabin in the mountains nearby, so I come here for relaxation between business trips.”
“Do you travel a lot?”
The waitress appeared and he ordered a whiskey. “Just in the States, wherever the deals are to be made,” he said as the waitress left.
“What kinds of deals?”
“Oh, a little of this and that.”