MAGISTRATE: “Please explain what you saw at the bar on the night of the murder. Speak clearly into the microphone, and remember, lying is a direct violation of The Triumvirate’s rules.”
BARTENDER: “I was workin’ the night shift, so it was pretty dead in here. Only, like, four people in the whole place. This one guy-- the dead guy, I guess-- was talkin’ real loud on the phone, about some kinda deal. I didn’t really hear the details. Mostly ‘cause I don’t usually give a shit. I try to stay outta all this, so I don’t turn up dead. But he was goin’ on about a deal, a job.”
MAGISTRATE: “Can you describe what the man on the phone looked like?”
BARTENDER: “He was kinda old, I guess. Wearin’ a real nice suit, but that ain’t outta place here.”
MAGISTRATE: “Did anyone else in the bar take notice of this call?”
BARTENDER: “I dunno. Probably, but like I said, I was workin’. I don’t have time to eavesdrop on every motherfucker that comes in here.”
MAGISTRATE: “Right. Can you describe what the other patrons looked like?”
BARTENDER: “If I could memorize the face of every fuckin’ person who came into this bar, d’you think I’d be working here still? I don’t know. They were all wearin’ business clothes. Two men, one lady. I can show ya what they ordered, but you know everyone pays in cash ‘round here.”
MAGISTRATE: “Were they all together?”
BARTENDER: “Nah. Sittin’ by themselves. Don’t see a lotta family vacations here.”
MAGISTRATE: “And you saw nothing out of the ordinary?”
BARTENDER: “One of ‘em left, right after the dead guy did. Knocked the bar stool over on the way out. Damn things are heavy, so he must’ve been in a hurry.”
MAGISTRATE: “Is that all?”
BARTENDER: “Guess so.“
