Pat Mulroney was a raconteur.
+++++Perched on a stool at the far end of the bar at the West Bay Tavern he regaled the tourists who frequented the place with thrilling tales of his time as a fishing charter captain who had retired after narrowly surviving a hurricane.
+++++A deep tan highlighted gleaming teeth courtesy of expensive implants and his more salt than pepper hair. The scar that ran from the corner of his mouth to the tip of his chin and a bent nose were explained as the result of long-ago brawls in exotic locales. Always dressed in deck shoes without socks, wrinkled khakis and a long-sleeved white shirt he looked like an extra who had wandered off the set of a Bogart movie.
+++++No local would ever go near the West Bay Tavern, a small place on an arm of the harbor, so his audience was made up entirely of vacationers. Men loved him because he was a rogue. Children loved him because he could crack the cartilage in his nose and knew the trick of seeming to pull off the tip of his finger.
+++++Women loved him because he was a rascal. Occasionally a bored woman would take him home like a puppy she wanted to play with for the night. On one occasion two sunburned wives whose husbands were back home in Minnesota, or some such place were unable to decide who would get to enjoy Pat’s company. So that neither would miss out they’d decided to share. That was a good night for Pat Mulroney.
+++++Pat’s partner in crime, so to speak, was his good friend and favourite bartender Gordon Dey known by all as Glory. Glory Dey was the only person who knew Pat’s true story. Glory had always been vague about his own background other than having served overseas in both Iraq and Afghanistan. The two had devised a scheme that satisfied both their needs.
+++++While Pat told his tales Glory would pour Pat’s drinks from an unlabeled bottle he kept beneath the bar.
+++++From time to time someone would ask to try a drink from the bottle.
+++++“T’wouldn’t be right,” Pat would announce in the unidentifiable accent he affected, “Y’see, it’s made by a pal o’ mine, in his bathtub, as it were. We wouldn’t want me good friend Glory to have troubles with the garda pouring it for you lot, now would we.”
+++++The tourists nodded sagely, happy to play a part in the ruse and snub their noses at the authorities.
+++++“Glory, me b’y, me t’roat is becomin’ parched. Pour us another if y’would.” Pat would call out.
+++++Glory believed in bartending as performance art. He would hold the bottle high over the glass as he poured, letting the pink tinged liquid cascade into the glass from three feet above before adding a splash of soda water and dropping in a stemmed cherry.
+++++Pat would then take a short sip and smack his lips before launching into another tale of comedic derring-do from his ready supply.
+++++From time-to-time Pat would finish his drink by popping the cherry into his mouth, ruminating theatrically before placing the cherry carefully on a napkin with the stem tied into a knot.
+++++“You’re welcome, ladies,” he would say with a grin. His audience howled with approval.
+++++Pat was actually a retired high school teacher from Renfrew, Ontario. He spent winters in Florida where he rented a small house in a very small town far from the beaches and condos. The only time he had been on a fishing boat was his first season on the coast when he went on a day-charter. He had spent most of the cruise hanging over the rail and swore he’d never again go out on the open water. He never did. The scar and the broken nose were the result of his time playing junior hockey in his youth. The secret bottle was filled with water and a drop of food colouring.
+++++Each day when happy hour began, an event that began in mid-afternoon and staggered to an end in the early evening, Glory would prime the customers awaiting Pat’s arrival.
+++++Pat had become something of a legend that people passed on to their friends. Just as people might say, “You must ride Space Mountain” they would say, “You must go listen to the stories from this guy at the West Bay.”
+++++While Pat entertained, each time he asked for another this tourist or that would offer to treat Pat to the drink. Glory would add the price of an alcoholic drink, sometimes two, to tabs he kept on slips of paper. The tourists thought this practice delightfully old school and jockeyed to buy Pat another round before his t’roat again became parched.
+++++At the end of the evening Glory would pocket the difference between what he charged the tourists from the paper tabs and what he entered into the computer. No alcohol would be missing from the inventory thanks to the pink water.
+++++Only a single tourist had ever figured out what was going on and had discreetly brought it to Glory’s attention. To keep the secret safe, she and Glory had worked out an arrangement that each year she and her husband drank for free during their annual week in the sun.
+++++Glory’s boss was aware of what Pat and Glory were up to, but it was good for business and if gullible tourists wanted to flock to his place for what he called ‘The Pat and Glory Show’, he was good with that.
+++++All this fun ended at 6:45 one Saturday evening when the masked bandit with the gun walked into the bar dressed entirely in black including a hoody pulled up and cinched tight.
+++++“This is a robbery! Hands up,” the robber roared in a raspy growl of a voice.
+++++Several people laughed until the pistol was waved in the air.
+++++The place went silent.
+++++“Put your wallets and jewelry in the bag.” A small duffel bag was proffered and passed around.
+++++“No,” said a man dressed in a loud Hawaiian shirt, shorts and sandals.
+++++“This is no joke. Put your stuff in the bag,” growled the robber.
+++++“You’re going to have to make me,” the man replied putting his hands defiantly on his hips.
+++++“Tom, please, do as he says,” pleaded his wife.
+++++“Listen to her Tom. We don’t want anyone getting hurt.”
+++++“Not a chance,” Tom responded.
+++++“Tom, please,” the woman’s plea was more urgent this time.
+++++“Nope, not going to happen.”
+++++“I got everybody’s stuff but yours. Give it.” The gun waved menacingly. “I’m not kidding, Tom. Put your wallet in the bag.”
+++++“Make me.”
+++++“Your choice,” said the robber and pointed the pistol at Tom’s wife.
+++++“Tom, I’m begging you,” implored his wife.
+++++“He’s bluffing.”
+++++The gunshot was incredibly loud in the low-ceilinged room. Everyone ducked, some fell to the floor. Several people screamed.
+++++Tom’s wife dropped like a marionette whose strings had been cut. A pool of blood immediately began to form around her crumpled body.
+++++The robber vanished out the door. A few moments later a boat could be heard crossing the dark water, harbor lights reflecting off the ripples the only indication of its passing.
+++++Pat Mulroney was the first to reach the woman. He called for Glory to toss him a clean towel that he pressed against the gaping wound just above the scooped neckline of her blood soaked top.
+++++Her husband stood immobile, slowly raising his hands in the air. He never once looked at his wife.

***

“There was something not right about that the other night,” said Glory Dey.
+++++“You mean apart from the woman being gunned down for no reason other than her idiot husband,” answered Pat.
+++++Pat and Glory were in a small diner where they met for a late breakfast on Glory’s days off. The server came by and topped up their coffee.
+++++“Thanks, Jan,” said Glory smiling at her. She beamed back and winked.
+++++Pat had never quite put his finger on what went on between the two, but something was going on.
+++++“Think about it,” continued Glory, “the bad guy is waving a gun around, but the man tells him to get lost. First off, who would do that? Then the guy is pointing a gun at the fool’s wife, and he still won’t hand over his wallet. All of a sudden, a robbery turns into cold-blooded murder. For absolutely no reason other than the numbskull being so stubborn. Makes no sense.”
+++++“It sure doesn’t.”
+++++“Then, the guy does nothing to help. You’d think he’d do something to help her, or panic or cry or something. But he just stood there with his arms in the air. And the worst part is nothing will get done about it,” claimed Glory.
+++++“What do you mean? The cops are investigating.”
+++++“Sure they are. When was the last time you heard about a robbery never mind a murder around here? Never. This town runs on tourism and something like this could put a real dent in that. There was a short piece in the paper this morning, but it was below the fold and said nothing. I’ll bet it’s all going to get covered up so that the snowbirds keep coming down here. Mark my words.”
+++++“So, what are we supposed to do about it?”
+++++“When they interviewed me the other day I got the name of that husband, where they’re from and where they’re staying.”
+++++“How did you manage that?”
+++++“I’m a bartender, people share with me. Now I need your help.”
+++++“Okay. But for what? We’re not the police.”
+++++“But we’re smart guys who can dig around a bit.”
+++++“What, like some kind of wanna-be Hardy Boys?”
+++++“I prefer to think of us as the guys from Miami Vice, but whatever.”
+++++Pat rolled his eyes.
+++++“Look,” Glory leaned across the table and spoke quietly, “we both know the local cops are too busy riding their fancy quads up and down the beach checking out the bikinis to really look into this. So, I started doing it for them.”
+++++“What did you do?” Pat asked warily.
+++++“Last night I sat outside the motel where our boy is staying. By the way, his name is Tom Rawling. His missus was Patty. They’re from Davenport, Iowa.”
+++++“That’s nice, but now you’re scaring me, staking out the guy’s motel.”
+++++“I found out what room he was in. There were no lights in the room but a Ford SUV with Iowa plates was parked out front. Then, at 8:30 the lights go on. A half hour later he comes out. He’s dressed like he’s going out on the town, not at all like the pale-legged gorby from the other night. He jumps in his car, and I follow him downtown where he goes into Guaracia’s.”
+++++“So, he’s hungry for Italian.”
+++++“Why is he still here? You’d think he’d pack up and go home to his family and friends, kids if he has them. His support, you know. Instead, he’s staying in a 3-star motel surrounded by strip malls and going out for a pricey dinner. So, I went in and sat at the bar.”
+++++“What if he’d recognized you?”
+++++“I was at the end of the bar in the shadows. You know how dark that place is. Besides, you’re the centre of attention at the West Bay. I’m just a guy nobody remembers pouring the drinks. Anyway, his attention was occupied. He was across the room with his back to me sitting with a real looker. I mean, she was something.”
+++++“Maybe it’s his sister come down here to help him out.”
+++++“Would you sit in a restaurant holding your sister’s hand across the table and gazing wistfully into her eyes? And yes, I’m aware you don’t have a sister. I’m just saying.”
+++++“Sure, okay, that doesn’t sound right.”
+++++“Not at all. At any rate, I finish my drink and go back to my car. After a bit, like one drink later, out they come. He gets in his car. She gets in an Audi and off they go, him following her. I tailed them north to one of those condo towers in Cove Village.”
+++++“Look at you with the hidden talents, just like a real cop.”
+++++“Just like a real cop I need a partner. That’s where you come in. Tonight, we’re following them again.”
+++++“I was afraid this was going to end up as we?”
+++++“Yes, we. I went by his place on the way here. He’s back at the motel probably sleeping off his fun from last night. So tonight, we tail them again and figure out what they’re doing.”
+++++“How do you know she’s not a local?”
+++++“I got a look at the plate on the Audi. Illinois. What’s more, the dealer sticker is from a place in Moline. That’s right across the river from Davenport.”
+++++“Okay, you have my attention. That’s too coincidental.”
+++++“It certainly is, Ollie.”
+++++“What time tonight do you want to go to the motel?”
+++++Glory grinned broadly. “I knew you’d come around,” he said. “Let’s get some rest this afternoon and we’ll meet up at 6:00.”

***

They set up on the motel at 6:30 with Glory in the lot of a busy sub shop a half block away and across the street. Pat was parked at the curb two blocks to the south. They were guessing he’d again go north towards downtown.
+++++That afternoon Glory had picked up a set of cheap walkie-talkies so they could communicate. He’d given Pat a quick lesson on a few codes they could use on the radios, descriptions of both vehicles and the location of her hotel.
+++++They sat and waited.
+++++At 8:30 sharp Glory saw the motel room lights go on, just like the night before.
+++++“Buddy is awake,” he informed Pat on the radio.
+++++“Roger that,” responded Pat.
+++++Just before 9:00 Glory announced, “He’s out of his room and walking north. All dressed up again. He’s not just out enjoying the evening air.”
+++++“Walking? It’s more than a mile to downtown.” Pat wondered where he could be going since there wasn’t much along the seedy stretch of road.
+++++“Who knows,” Glory answered. “Stay sharp.”
+++++The men were unsure what to do. Glory was concerned that he’d been spotted the night before and that Tom was doing some sort of check to see if he was being followed again.
+++++Suddenly Glory was on the radio. “Heads up. The Audi just passed me heading your way. Blondie at the wheel. Duck down.”
+++++Pat laid across the seat and radioed, “Roger that.”
+++++Glory watched as the Audi continued past Pat’s car for another block or so before turning into a parking lot and circling back onto the street, now heading north.
+++++“Stay down, she’s coming back past you.”
+++++“Roger that.”
+++++“Would you stop saying ‘Roger that.’ Remember I told you to just click the mic button.”
+++++Pat couldn’t resist. “Roger that.”
+++++Glory shook his head as the Audi drove past him. He peered down the street to see the Audi pull to the curb. Tom climbed in and the car continued north.
+++++As if it had been planned two cars left the sub shop and headed north. Glory pulled in behind them.
+++++“I’m going to stay behind these other cars. You get in behind me.”
+++++Pat clicked his mic button and followed a block behind Glory.
+++++Just before entering the downtown the Audi turned right onto a major street that by-passed the busy downtown.
+++++“I think they’re heading to the condo. No dinner tonight.”
+++++“Maybe they’re eating in.”
+++++“Could be.” Glory continued behind them, uneasy as traffic thinned out.
+++++“Hold up, they’re stopping at a gas station convenience store. Right side of the street just around a bend. We’re only a couple of blocks from the condo. I’m going to go on past and go straight there. You hang back.”
+++++Pat turned left into a side street, quickly turned around in a driveway and pulled up to the corner with his lights off. He could see the entrance to the gas station.
+++++“I have eyes on the place. Stand by.” Pat was losing his fear of what they were doing and starting to enjoy himself.
+++++Glory clicked his mic.
+++++After a few minutes Pat saw the Audi pull onto the street and head north.
+++++“Coming your way,” he advised Glory.
+++++He received another click in response as he watched the Audi disappear from his sight as it turned left.
+++++“Lost my eye but they’ve turned towards you.”
+++++“Okay, go up to the next side street, park and walk to the condo. I’m just inside the entrance in some bushes to the right.”
+++++Pat did as he was told. At the entrance to the parking area he found Glory in the shadows of some azaleas.
+++++“They’re parked over there but haven’t got out of the car,” Glory whispered. Pat saw the Audi was parked about 50 yards away under some palm trees.
+++++“You go over towards the pool but stick to the shadows as much as you can. Keep in against that hedge so you blend into the dark.”
+++++Pat moved towards the brightly lit pool area, planning to lurk behind as many shrubs as he could.
+++++He had taken only a few steps when he heard a voice demand, “Who are you guys and why are you following me?”
+++++Pat stopped in his tracks and turned to see Tom standing a few feet from Glory. There was a pistol in his hand aimed directly at Glory who was holding his hands out to his sides. In his right hand Pat could see the small walkie-talkie they had been using.
+++++“What is that, a gun? Drop it right now!” Tom jerked the gun in his own hand towards Glory.
+++++Glory dropped the radio on the lawn and said, “It’s a radio, not a gun. I’m not armed. Neither of us is.”
+++++“How did you…?” Pat asked.
+++++“You guys are idiots. I got out of the car at the store and followed you over here on foot.”
+++++“Who is it, Tom?” asked a female voice. All three men turned to look at the woman who was with Tom. She was tall, with blond hair pinned up and very attractive in tight white jeans and an expensive blouse.
+++++“I don’t know who they…wait a minute, you’re the guys from the bar.” He jerked the gun again at Glory saying, “You’re the bartender and you,” he pointed the gun at Pat, “You’re that clown who was telling all the stories.”
+++++“What was that he dropped?” she asked.
+++++“Just a radio,” Glory answered her before Tom could.
+++++“Was it you following us last night, too?” Tom demanded.
+++++“That was only me,” said Glory, “but you should know the police know we’re here.”
+++++The woman laughed and looked around.
+++++“Where are they? You sure need their help but I’m not seeing anyone.” The woman spoke with a soft voice that sounded ludicrously seductive given the circumstances.
+++++“Shoot them,” she cooed.
+++++“What,” exclaimed Tom. “You know I can’t shoot anyone.”
+++++“Of course you can, you just chose not to shoot that wife of yours. That’s why I ended up having to do it. Go on, we can say they tried to rob us when we pulled into the parking lot. That radio looked like a gun in the dark. There’s no witnesses.”
+++++Glory suddenly sprang forward driving his shoulder into Tom’s middle. Both men fell to the ground, a tangle of arms and legs. The pistol flew from Tom’s hand landing in front of Pat.
+++++The blond ran forward, bending to retrieve the gun. Pat gave her a shove that sent her sprawling.
+++++She swore at him.
+++++Pat picked up the pistol. He had never handled a gun in his life but knew enough to keep his finger off the trigger and point it at the ground.
+++++“Your witness is here,” said a voice from the dark. “Sorry for being a bit late.”
+++++ A uniformed police officer stepped out of the shadows behind the azaleas.
+++++“About time,” said Glory, getting to his feet.
+++++“Both of you, kneel with your hands behind your back,” barked the cop.
+++++Tom immediately rolled over and got to his knees, gasping.
+++++“I’m not kneeling on grass in white pants,” the woman griped. “They’re already stained from that one pushing me. Did you see that? It’s assault.”
+++++“Lady, this is not a fashion show, nor is it a choice. Kneel, now!”
+++++She knelt. The seat of the white pants were grass stained, and the pinned-up hair had flopped to one side.
+++++“You’re a fool,” muttered the woman to Tom. “If you’d had the guts to take care of her back home I wouldn’t have had to do it here.”
+++++Tom did not respond.
+++++“Thanks for the confession,” the cop said to the woman.
+++++She uttered a curse.
+++++“About time you got here, Ben. It was getting a bit uncomfortable,” grumbled Glory.
+++++“You know this isn’t the only thing I have to do tonight. I got caught up in another call and got here as quick as I could.” He turned to Pat. “We’ve not met. I’m Ben Turner.”
+++++“How did you get involved in this?” Pat turned to Glory. “I thought you said the cops weren’t doing anything.”
+++++Ben was busy handcuffing Tom and the blond.
+++++“The cops aren’t but this cop is. That’s why I needed my phone, to call in the cavalry when the time came. Ben and I go way back to Iraq. We just happened to both end up living here on the sunny gulf coast. Thanks, Ben. I owe you one.”
+++++“More than one. Remember Fallujah?”
+++++“Not that again! C’mon man. I thought we were even.”
+++++Ben turned to Pat, “I saved his butt big time back in the sand. He’s never been able to deal with it.”
+++++“Are you just going to leave us here on the grass? It’s wet and cold,” whined the blond.
+++++“Lady, I know you’re not used to being told what to do but zip it.” He glared at her a moment.
+++++She zipped it.

***

“Thanks, Jan,” Glory held his cup for a refill. “I think I’ll have the waffles with syrup and raspberries.”
+++++“You got it,” she said with a wink. “What’ll you have, sweetie?” She was one of those diner servers who called everyone sweetie.
+++++Pat was again wondering what went on between Jan and Glory but didn’t want to give Glory the satisfaction of asking.
+++++“Two over easy with a fruit bowl and brown toast, please and thanks, Jan.”
+++++Jan winked at him and headed for the kitchen. Now she was winking at him. What gives, Pat thought.
+++++“You know,” Pat said, “I never thought for a moment the robber was a woman.”
+++++“Neither did I, but I did wonder about the baggy clothes she was wearing. I guess that was to bulk her up.”
+++++“So, all your talk about the cops being useless is just talk. When it comes to crunch time, you called them in.”
+++++“Of course. Did you think the two of us were going to arrest them? Ha! Fat chance. He couldn’t have shot us, not in him, but she would have in a second. Dangerous woman, that one. Ben checked into those two. Tom is a grocery store manager. She’s three times widowed and spends most of her time at the gym. No job.”
+++++“Three dead husbands? She’s barely in her forties.”
+++++“Three dead husbands in three different cities in two different states. The investigation continues, as they say. No doubt in my mind that at some point Tom would have been dead husband number four.”
+++++“You and Ben are awfully chummy. I thought you had no use for the police?”
+++++“Everybody needs friends and has a need for the police when it hits the fan. Who else are you going to call, and please don’t say the obvious.”
+++++Pat held up his coffee cup. “To friends.” They clanked their cups together.
+++++“What have you got planned to entertain the tourists tonight?” Glory asked.
+++++“Well, I got a great story out of all this. And this one is true for a change. The tourists are going to love it. We’re heroes, my friend.”

[Image Credit : Photo by Janosch Diggelmann on Unsplash]

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M.F. McDonnell

M. F. McDonnell is an emerging Canadian writer. His short story Heroes of a Sort was published in Close To The Bone in May of 2025. He has had two short stories, 'Thirst' and 'Good Riddance', published in Saddlebags Dispatches Anthology in April and August, 2025. A third story, Drop That Rifle was published in December 2025. He is currently completing work on a novel.

Latest posts by M.F. McDonnell (see all)

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