A woman sat at the stool by the bar. At first glance, she appeared nondescript with shoulder length brown hair partially covering her face. Her clothes were wrinkled as if lying on the floor for days and then thrown on. The low lights cast shadows on her body making hard to identify anything about her. Neither seats beside her were occupied.The bartender, Mike glanced over and could see her anxiety in every movement. Her legs fidgeting as the swung back and forth above the floor. Moments where she seemed to be attempting deep breaths. Her hands had a tremor as she gripped her purse. When the average citizen ended up here, this was a typical response. Fear. The Alibi had a particular reputation with an unsavory clientele. It had become a hub of sorts for criminals. Mike moved down the bar to take her drink order or help her move on her way. The regulars always got nervous when new unknown faces showed up.

Mike thought that there wasn’t anything that could really surprise him anymore, but he was wrong. He approached ready to deal with her. Her eyes lifted up and the hair shifted away from her face. Her left eye was badly bruised. Choke marks from a hand surrounded her neck. She had some scratch marks and bruising on her right arm.

“What can I get you?” He asked.

He watched her struggle to speak. She licked her chapped lips, cleared her throat, and swallowed some spit. Again, she took a deep breath.

“Can I get something nonalcoholic?” Her voice was scratchy and strained.

“Sure. How about a virgin daiquiri.” She nodded. “Do you want me to open a tab?” He asked.

She shook her head no. She handed him cash.

“It works better with a credit card.” Mike told her. “Helps prove that you’re here.”

She shook her had no. “I don’t want him to know.” She muttered. The words were hard to make out from the noise of the sports games playing on the tvs. “Seen this place on his credit card statement one too many times.”

Mike felt worried. “Just who are you referring to?”

“Ben o’Rouke.”

Mike glanced at the clock knowing Ben’s normal arrival time was soon. He planned actual visits here, so they would have footage of him the bar. It be easy enough to fake date and time stamps later. Just an additional service provided. How did Ben know this woman?

Mike worked on completing the woman’s drink while subtly gesturing for the other staff to get management. His sense was that there was something off. She sipped slowly her drink. Ben finally burst in wearing a suit with a wide smile on his face.

“Hey, Mike. A shot of whiskey.” He sauntered to the bar.

The woman grabbed her purse and spun on the stool to face Ben. Ben’s face clouded over recognizing the woman.

“What are you doing here?” He demanded.

She pulled out a gun from her purse and shot him. She shoved the gun back in the purse. Ben was gasping for breath lying on the ground in an instant. The rest of the bar stared in stunned silence. She kicked him in the shins as she jumped off the stool. She appeared unsteady as if drunk. She landed another kick in the stomach. Ben groaned. At this point, management was calling for EMS. She walked out.

“Who was that?” Someone asked.

“I don’t know.” Mike responded. All he knew was that the night was ruined.