86'd

“She’ll be replaced by tomorrow.”

“Dude…” Nick looked over his shoulder in disgust at his longtime barback, Luke.

“It was a joke. You know. Because we’re all just numbers to management and –”

“Yeah. I get it. Poor timing though.” Nick stared down at Christina’s body. “Are the cameras working? What the hell happened?”

“There’s no cameras in the walk in.” Luke pulled his hair from the bun, retying it more securely.

“Yeah. But cameras are in the hall outside of the walk in. Was she supposed to work tonight too?” Nick never checked the schedule. It didn’t matter who he’d be working with. They were all kids to him and he would end up carrying the weight regardless. Usually there were at least two bartenders and a barback until peak hours were over, and one would go home.

“No. She was the closing bartender last night.” Mary Elizabeth appeared behind them, a pitcher of tea in one hand, undissolved sugar packed at the bottom. Her freckles stood out more when her face was pale. “I was the closing server. I left around one.” She was calm, talking to the body that was still half inside the bar cooler. Christine was surrounded by tombstones of liquor boxes and kegs. One of her legs was still twisted around a pony keg.

The boys discovered her when they went to restock the bar. In fact, Nick had been griping about what a poor job she’d done stocking the night before. When he opened the insulated door, her body fell backward, as if she had been propped up on a keg inside. She had her vest on over the Breckenridge tee shirt she got from her recent snowboarding trip. Nick had to work eleven days in a row to cover her shifts as well as his own.

He could picture her sitting on the kegs and sucking on her vape, unlike the rest of them who took their cigarettes outside, taking a moment amidst a busy shift. He wondered if she got stuck in there... maybe that’s how she died. Then again, her back was against the door based on the way she fell. That, and the blood at the center of her neck. He saw a jagged piece of green glass sticking out that could’ve been from a Stella or Heineken bottle. “What happened?”

Mary Elizabeth shrugged. The hand holding the tea dropped a level and a bit splashed onto the floor. “No idea. We were busy. Slammed, really. Christine had to cut off one guy. He was some kind of mad. Said he would buy the place and fire us all after she refused to give him another scotch on the rocks or whatever it was.”

Luke said, “It was Mick, the guy who only drinks Johnnie Red.”

Nick nodded. “Yeah. He’s got thick glasses and always wears a suit with a different colored hanky.

Mary Elizabeth’s arm dropped more and tea spilled in a skinny stream to the floor.

Mary Elizabeth nodded. Then absently, “She and Juan got into a screaming match.”

Nick asked, “Chef Juan or manager Juan?”

“Chef. She missed ringing in some food for a guest by a minute before kitchen’s last call. He refused to make it. And you know her… nobody gets in the way of her money. She blamed Juan for the poor tip she’d received.” Her arm spasmed and the tea splashed, wetting the ends of Christine’s black hair.

“Christ, be careful.” Nick jerked back.

“She was in a bad mood last night. I tried to help out when the crowd got thick, made a few drinks. People flag me down all the time not realizing I’m the barback. She screamed at me, told me to focus on my job alone. The other guy she can’t stand, Dennis? The one who basically stalks her. He came in as well and you know she’s always a little more rigid when he’s around.”

Nick acted like he considered this, but it was hard to focus anytime Luke spoke because all of his words were drawn out and lazy. He wedged his phone out from his back pocket and dialed 9-1-1. “Only Atlanta. It just keeps ringing.”

“It’s not like they’d rush here anyway. Not for someone who’s already dead.” Luke looked up to see them both staring at him in disgust. “It’s true. They take their sweet time for an ongoing crime. Remember the dude who overdosed in the bathroom? How long was it until the paramedics showed up. Sometimes you get lucky with a speedy response but... I’m just saying.” He shrugged.

“What’s in her hand?” Nick noticed a crumpled bit of paper.

“You probably shouldn’t touch that. Crime scene and all.”

“Well, she didn’t die on her back like that and definitely didn’t lather up in tea beforehand either. What's one more alteration of the scene?” Christine’s hand was freezing. The skin on the back of his thick neck prickled. “It’s her clock out slip. Hold on. Why’d she clock out at one-thirty in the morning when we close at two? She shouldn’t have left until three the earliest.” He flipped the slip over and clicked his tongue. Her restock list almost matched his.

A grumbling voice caused Nick to jump, though he recognized it. He was expecting to hear Mary Elizabeth’s soft voice or Luke’s lethargic stoner speech. “I had to close for her. She pitched one hell of a fit last night.” It was Manager Juan.

“Did you see where she went? Did she ever leave?”

“No clue. It was a madhouse in here. After the kitchen closed, the bar filled up. I didn’t leave until four in the morning. I had Luke start bartending with me. It was chaos. This is why I don’t make early cuts. You guys complain, and see what happens. Not the dying part…”

Nick thought for a moment. He decided the party needed to move away from the body, out of the narrow space in front of the walk in. Everyone followed. Mary Elizabeth left the pitcher behind and laid on her side across a booth, hand tucked under her cheek, staring straight ahead at the booth opposite under the table.

Luke put himself behind the bar, unsure what else to do, and started setting it up. Nick opened his mouth to say something about this, then instead turned to his manager, now that ample space was between them. “So you didn’t go in the cooler at all last night?”

“Nope. No reason to. I'd asked her to do a restock before she left and assumed she never did.”

“You didn’t see her leave either?”

Luke shook his head no.

“Can we check the cameras? And Luke, stop setting up the bar. We aren’t opening today. Are we, Juan? We can’t be.”

“The cameras are broken. Have been for months. Can’t tell you guys that because the staff'd take advantage of them being off. As for opening… I do have to check with the owners.”

Sounding farther away than she was, came Mary Elizabeth’s fairy like voice. “You can’t be serious.”

“I have to do the due diligence. But yeah. Most likely won’t be opening. God. This is such a shame.” And because he couldn’t hide the extra stress this would bring, Juan muttered, “She has the majority of shifts and we have nobody to fill them.”

“I’ve been a barback here for years. I can fill the spot.”

Juan was already heading for the office and calling the owners. “Sure. I guess that works for now.”

Luke pulled open the fridge behind the bar and threw the offhanded comment over his shoulder, “My money’s on Dennis.” He popped the cap off a Stella bottle and raised his beer in toast. “To Christine. May she rest in peace.”