Page 27 of The Attercop

André, who was tending the bar, looked up and without hesitation said, “Mickey’s in the back.”

Some of the old-timers were already in, seated at their regular places. A few of them acknowledged the detectives as they crossed the room and headed into the office.

Mickey looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“Hey, Mickey,” Declan said. “How’s Angel doing?”

“Still unconscious but stable. The doctors are seeing improvement and they hope he’ll wake up soon.” Mickey stood and indicated the desk and computer. “It’s all yours.”

Declan gave Mickey a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Charlie just gave him a gentle rub on his back, then sat down at the computer. “Let’s see what we can find.”

Mickey nodded. “Hey—can I get you guys anything?”

“A coffee, if you’ve got some on the go,” Declan replied.

Charlie added, “Make it two.”

“Be right back,” Mickey said, then left the two of them alone.

Charlie frowned. “God, he looks rough.”

“He blames himself for everything that happened to Angel,” Declan said. “Let’s see if we can make Mickey feel better by finding out who did this.”

“So, who are we looking for?” Charlie asked.

“It’s highly unlikely that it’s a regular. Anyone we know at the bar would protect the Kids.”

Charlie started to play the video footage. Mickey had two monitors hooked up to his computer, each showing footage from one of the two cameras aimed at the front door. They had been positioned so that the face of anyone coming in or out would be recorded. Charlie was amazed at how busy it had been for a Thursday night. Then he remembered that there’d been a CFL football game on. The Calgary Stampeders were playing their rivals, the Edmonton Elks—any place showing that game would draw a crowd.

Charlie and Declan slowly identified the regular patrons, but whenever they came across a stranger, Charlie flagged the timestamp of the recording so they could go back and review the image with Mickey later. He and Declan had agreed that this was the most efficient way to tackle the problem at hand.

“Based on where Angel was found,” Declan said, “ifthe attacker was somebody at the bar that night, maybe we’re looking for someone who comes in, but doesn’t leave by the front door.”

Charlie nodded. “So you think they hid inside and followed Angel out the back door when he was alone?”

“That’s one option.”

“Or,” Charlie continued, “the attacker was outside in the back alley waiting for someone to come out—not specifically Angel. Maybe the cops were right and it was a random gay-bashing.”

Declan frowned. “I don’t think so. Mickey said he had a sense that something was off that night with the patrons at the bar and I take Mickey’s hunches seriously.”

After four hours of combing through the footage, Charlie and Declan had narrowed it down to a few possible suspects. They called Mickey in to have a look.

Charlie showed Mickey the first guy. He eliminated him right off the bat. “That guy comes in from Fort Mac. He’s a young oil worker that makes it in a few times a year. It wouldn’t have been him.”

Mickey eliminated a few of the others, including one that never reappeared in the video recordings. “I’m sure it wouldn’t have been him. I know him. I let him out the back door. It was closer to where he’d parked his car.”

Once they’d cleared most of the clientele, it left just one.

“Can you blow up the image of that guy?” Mickey asked.

It was a man in a loose-fitting dark-grey jacket, cargo pants, and a black fisherman’s cap.

“Wait a minute,” Charlie said. “I recognise that beard.”

He looked over at Declan. “I’m sure that’s the same guy who spilled the drink on me Friday night. You know—the guy who kept apologising.”