Dzinski sat at a far table nursing his second bourbon and waiting. The bartender’d said he remembered seeing the girl. He had to kick them out, before they started bedding down in one of his booths.
“You should know better,” he said, smirking and handing the photo back to Dzinski. “Than to get married to some kid. They’re wild these days.”
Dzinski gave it a second. Then he slid a twenty across the bar, and told the bartender to give him a signal if the guy she’d been with, came in.
“Just to talk, right?”
“Just to talk,” Dzinski said.