got up and waved aside my offer to pay for another round or even my half of this one. "I won't hear of it, I invited you out." He threw down some bills on the table, leaving a decent tip.
"I'm sorry, really," I repeated.
Tony reached over as if to touch my shoulder, but then pulled back, thinking better of it. "We are fine, here," he said. "Really. It was a simple misunderstanding." He peered at me, cocking his head. "Right? We're good?"
I nodded. "Sure."
"Okay. Now. Thanks for the tour, it was even more interesting than I expected." He shook his head. "Everyone seems to think that we Mesoamericanists are the inheritors of Indiana Jones's reputation, but you--you're right in the middle of it all! It's not every day I get to see medical examiners and mug shots."
"Well, I'm not used to it either," I said. "It's not a regular thing for me."
"Fair enough." He looked uncomfortable, then laughed again, offering his hand to me. I took it and probably shook it a little too long, trying to make up for the misunderstanding. "Thanks again. See you in a month or so."
"See you, Tony."
I leaned back against the booth a moment after he left and groaned to myself. In the few meetings we'd had during my interview at Caldwell, Tony seemed rather detached, but that made sense in light of his views on how one gets ahead. He reminded me a bit of Oscar, age difference apart. There was the same old-school flair for the dramatic, the same sort of encyclopedic mind, a similar sense of humor. But no matter how honest the mistake, I had blown him off. Great.
I went over and sat down at the bar and rubbed my head; the day was settling down on me. "Another one, Nick?"
"You bet." He pulled on the optic and glanced over at me, a toothpick working between his lips. "You okay?"
"Yeah. It's been a hell of a day. I've got a headache, is all." I sipped at the beer, trying to assimilate what I'd been through in the past twelve hours. Tichnor's appearance, the potential of the posthole, the decidedly odd scene at the sheriff's office ... And then there was Tony's visit, replete with its own drama. Really, it was just too much.
"Ah, to hell with it," I muttered, setting the glass down. I'd handled everything just fine, everything was covered. I looked at Nick, who was drying glasses. "I got better things to worry about."
He switched his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. "You say so. Say, I heard you were the one who found Augie."
"Yeah. Bit of a shock." I thought about the disagreement I'd overheard at the sheriff's department. "Say, Nick, did Augie get into a lot of fights? You know, fistfights?"
"Oh, more'n most people, less than some." He shrugged. "Get to drinking, get wound up about something. He was more of a weepy drunk, but every so often he'd get scrappy. The other night, night before he died, that was the first time in a while. Why'd you ask?"
"Just wondering," I said. "He looked pretty beat up to me when I found him. All sorts of fun at the Point. Had some nutcase named Tichnor out there today. Sonofabitch threat ened me, can you imagine?" I kept my tone light; it was sort of amusing, well after the fact. Two people facing off over holes in the ground.
Nick's toothpick stopped dead in its migration. "No shit? Tichnor, you know, he and Augie ran around together sometimes. They were in here the night before last."
I put my glass down, thinking hard. "Yeah? How'd they get along?"
"Like spoons in a drawer; now Tichnor's going to have to find someone else to listen to his big talk. The three of them were in here that other night, those two and Billy. Tichnor left early, before the serious drinking got started, but then later on, Augie and Billy started trouble and I had to call the cops." He pulled out a sawed-off baseball bat from under the bar to show me how the bar's tranquillity had been restored. "Takes someone as mean as Billy Griggs not to quiet down when I'm trying to get a point across."
I had just taken another
"I'm sorry, really," I repeated.
Tony reached over as if to touch my shoulder, but then pulled back, thinking better of it. "We are fine, here," he said. "Really. It was a simple misunderstanding." He peered at me, cocking his head. "Right? We're good?"
I nodded. "Sure."
"Okay. Now. Thanks for the tour, it was even more interesting than I expected." He shook his head. "Everyone seems to think that we Mesoamericanists are the inheritors of Indiana Jones's reputation, but you--you're right in the middle of it all! It's not every day I get to see medical examiners and mug shots."
"Well, I'm not used to it either," I said. "It's not a regular thing for me."
"Fair enough." He looked uncomfortable, then laughed again, offering his hand to me. I took it and probably shook it a little too long, trying to make up for the misunderstanding. "Thanks again. See you in a month or so."
"See you, Tony."
I leaned back against the booth a moment after he left and groaned to myself. In the few meetings we'd had during my interview at Caldwell, Tony seemed rather detached, but that made sense in light of his views on how one gets ahead. He reminded me a bit of Oscar, age difference apart. There was the same old-school flair for the dramatic, the same sort of encyclopedic mind, a similar sense of humor. But no matter how honest the mistake, I had blown him off. Great.
I went over and sat down at the bar and rubbed my head; the day was settling down on me. "Another one, Nick?"
"You bet." He pulled on the optic and glanced over at me, a toothpick working between his lips. "You okay?"
"Yeah. It's been a hell of a day. I've got a headache, is all." I sipped at the beer, trying to assimilate what I'd been through in the past twelve hours. Tichnor's appearance, the potential of the posthole, the decidedly odd scene at the sheriff's office ... And then there was Tony's visit, replete with its own drama. Really, it was just too much.
"Ah, to hell with it," I muttered, setting the glass down. I'd handled everything just fine, everything was covered. I looked at Nick, who was drying glasses. "I got better things to worry about."
He switched his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. "You say so. Say, I heard you were the one who found Augie."
"Yeah. Bit of a shock." I thought about the disagreement I'd overheard at the sheriff's department. "Say, Nick, did Augie get into a lot of fights? You know, fistfights?"
"Oh, more'n most people, less than some." He shrugged. "Get to drinking, get wound up about something. He was more of a weepy drunk, but every so often he'd get scrappy. The other night, night before he died, that was the first time in a while. Why'd you ask?"
"Just wondering," I said. "He looked pretty beat up to me when I found him. All sorts of fun at the Point. Had some nutcase named Tichnor out there today. Sonofabitch threat ened me, can you imagine?" I kept my tone light; it was sort of amusing, well after the fact. Two people facing off over holes in the ground.
Nick's toothpick stopped dead in its migration. "No shit? Tichnor, you know, he and Augie ran around together sometimes. They were in here the night before last."
I put my glass down, thinking hard. "Yeah? How'd they get along?"
"Like spoons in a drawer; now Tichnor's going to have to find someone else to listen to his big talk. The three of them were in here that other night, those two and Billy. Tichnor left early, before the serious drinking got started, but then later on, Augie and Billy started trouble and I had to call the cops." He pulled out a sawed-off baseball bat from under the bar to show me how the bar's tranquillity had been restored. "Takes someone as mean as Billy Griggs not to quiet down when I'm trying to get a point across."
I had just taken another
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