Who. Annie and Max. When. The 14th, mid-afternoon. Where. The Key. What. Detective Annie goes to talk to Max about her visit with Belli. Warning. None, unless you don't like hot fat chicks or tattooed silver foxes.
Annie hadn't been able to stop thinking about her chat with Belli, no matter how nice or polite he'd been. Everything lined up far too well for Annie to just let it go, which was exactly why she was pulling to a stop in front of the Key. Max would listen to her. He wouldn't think she was crazy. Pulling her coat tighter, she pushed her way through the front doors, not surprised to find her friend behind the counter. There weren't many people in the bar, but there were enough where she would need to keep her voice down. "Max," came her form of greeting as she slid onto a stool. "We gotta talk."
Max wasn't one hundred percent; he was too old to take an ass-kicking like the one Gilman had given him with the pool cue, and his only consolation was that he'd had enough moxie in him to kick that little twerp's ass pretty good. The cops had shown up and he'd given a statement, but they didn't seem overly concerned and Max didn't press any charges against Gilman. The little fucker having to have his teeth reattached would be enough. He was limping slightly as he worked the bar though; Ian hadn't answered his phone and Max had no choice but to assume the kid had skipped town with that girl he'd been seeing. He was a little pissed that he hadn't even gotten a week's notice; he and the other bartender, the college-aged girl Lydia who helped out sometimes, were working the place by themselves. Thank fuck tonight wasn't too busy and he stopped in front of Annie when she spoke to him. "Yeah we do, blondie. You want a drink?"
"You know me, Max," she said, the barest hint of a grin teasing the corners of full lips. "I'm not one to turn down a drink. Make me something strong and pretty." It was hard to miss the way Max was limping. His movements were stiff and jilted, and he looked a little worn down around the edges. "What happened to you, big guy? You strain a muscle stepping out the bath or something?" Teasing Max about his age was second nature for the two of them by now; she didn't mean anything by it. She looked genuinely concerned as she leaned up onto the counter, hazel eyes watching him carefully. Yeah, he was definitely hurt somewhere.
"Hah, no," he said with a snort, turning to get a martini glass. He'd actually developed quite an extensive list of mixology skills in the last few decades and he knew one that would cheer Annie up if it was 'pretty' she wanted. He reached for vanilla vodka, cranberry juice and one of the small bottles of champagne he kept in the mini-fridge, opening each and pouring a measure into a shaker with some ice. He rattled it around in one weathered hand for a minute. "Got into a little bit of a quarrel. Still kind of sore... fucker hit me with a pool cue," he said, setting the shaker down. He retrieved a bottle of candy sprinkles from under the bar, smirking; this was not the kind of place that usually carried obscure mixing ingredients, but Max liked to shake things up sometimes. He wet the rim of the glass, then shook the rainbow sprinkles onto a tray and dipped the glass. He poured the neon pink contents of the shaker into the glass, then set it before Annie. "Cupcake martini," he said with a smirk, plucking a cherry from the garnish tray and dropping it in the drink for her.
Annie watched with rapt attention as Max made her drink, one of her elbows propped on the bar to support her chin in her hand. "Wait, what?" Someone hit Max in the back with a pool cue? Everyone liked Max. He didn't have a lot of enemies, and it was hard to imagine someone disliking him enough to try and throw the guy's back out. Before she could ask who, he was sliding her the 'cupcake martini,' and the smile it earned him was one of her few genuine smiles as of late. "You know the way to a girl's heart, Max," Annie said, eyeballing the colorful confection of sprinkles. The Key wasn't especially know for its specialty drinks, but Max sure as hell knew how to make one. She didn't doubt for an instant that it tasted amazing, either. "Who the fuck hit you with a pool cue? I'll crush him." Annie paused to take a sip of the drink, and it was just as delicious and sweet as she thought it would be. "Pause. This drink is amazing, and you are a drink god."
"Your fucking ex-boyfriend is 'who'," Max said a little surly-like, leaning over the bar and bracing himself on his elbow. "Came in here talking a lot of shit, so I took a swing at him. I've had enough of listening to his fucking mouth." He rolled his dark eyes, gave her a faint smile when she complimented the drink. It struck him as a very 'Annie' drink, bright and bubbly and sweet and fizzy. "Then he got up and swung a cue at me, so I kind of kept hitting him. Hope he wasn't too attached to his teeth, he lost a couple. And I'm pretty sure I broke his nose."
Annie's mouth actually dropped open when he informed her of the "who" in question. Gilman did it? Why the fuck would Gilman even think for a second that he could take on someone like Max? Gilman might have had the height advantage, but brute strength definitely belonged to Max. She listened with wide eyes and open mouth as Max told her what happened, and when he said that he broke his nose, Annie actually winced. "Jesus, Max. Are you alright?" She wasn't at all concerned about Gilman (at least not in such an obvious way); she was worried about Max. He wasn't a young guy anymore, and he didn't need to be getting hit with pool cues. "Have you gone to the doctor or-" Annie trailed off and reached into her back pocket for her inhaler, returning it once she'd taken a deep breath from it. "Or anything? He might've really messed something up."
"He hit me across the back, Annie... like the fuckin' weak little coward he is," he sighed. "And no, I didn't go to the doctor. I didn't break a hip either," he added with a faint hint of reproach in his voice, but it was gentle. He had once been in some pretty vicious mosh pits and had no trouble bouncing people out of his bar. But a pool cue across the spine hadn't felt good by any means. "I got a wicked bruise if you wanna see though," he smirked. "Still. I'm thinking he got the worse for wear. He was about crying when he left."
"I hope he was fucking crying," Annie said, not bothering to hide the bitterness in her tone. He deserved to have his teeth knocked in, and Annie didn't even know what he said to Max. She didn't want to know. It had to be something terrible for Max to lose his temper and swing like that. She might have felt sorry for Gilman, even after the things he said to her in front of his trailer, if it wasn't for the fact that he took a cheap shot at her friend. "Maybe he'll learn not to make cheap shots at guys that can clearly kick his scrawny ass," she murmured, perhaps a big apologetically. "I'm glad it didn't get much more out of hand. Fuck, Hunter got put in the hospital over a fight with that Casper chick. People are going fucking crazy, man." Which brought her to her next point. "I went to speak with Belli."
"Who?" Max asked, opening a bottle of Coke for himself and taking a swig. He let Lydia handle two guys at the end of the bar who wanted fresh beers; he was talking to Annie, damnit. And kind of wishing he could sit in a chair; he'd been on his feet for six hours already, thanks to Ian missing another shift. "I just hope Gilman stays the fuck away from here. I'll call the cops if he sets foot in the parking lot after the shit he pulled."
"Belli. The owner of that antique shop. Listen to this, alright? Just hear me out." Annie knew that it sounded crazy when she said it aloud, but if there were any two people that wouldn't judge her for it, it was Hunter and Max. "Okay, so Gideon bought a box from that place. When he jumped off the tower, he was holding it right before. I saw it in his hands. Gilman bought a camera there, and he's been acting … well, you know. Dahlia Palmer? She bought a music box, and now she's missing." Or maybe she wasn't. The paper said they found "remains" in the swamp. Annie shuddered, not wanting to think about it. "Tatum bought a camera there, too, and she's been acting completely different ever since. You can't tell me that's not a hell of a lot of coincidences."
Max listened to her, one salt-and-pepper brow inching skyward a little, and he sipped his Coke while he heard Annie explain her theory. He wasn't particularly big on conspiracies, but he had to admit it was a little weird. More than a little, maybe, if he was honest. "Well.. that's definitely fucked up, but it could just be a coincidence, Annie. I mean, what're you suggesting? That the stuff's bad luck or something?"
"I don't know what I'm suggesting. I'm not superstitious, Max. I'm not. But maybe it's not just the stuff. Maybe the owner has something to do with it, too." Almost like a lightbulb, something seemed to go off inside of her brain, and she smacked the counter. "He said that someone was with Dahlia. Someone handsome. Ian and Dahlia are good friends, right? He bought something, too. And now where is he?" she asked, gesturing to the obvious lack of Ian Kingsley.
Now that made Max squirm a little because he had to admit, this wasn't like Ian. Ian was close with Max; they'd worked together for years and he'd taken the little shit under his wing. "Ian was shacking up with some girl," Max said dubiously. "He had scratches on his back the other day. I figured he went off with her somewhere. You know how it is."
"Look, all I'm saying is that it's a little strange. No, as a matter of fact, I'm saying it's really fucking weird, and I don't trust that shop. I don't. The paper said that they found remains of a Jane Doe, Max. Dahlia's missing, and Gilman's been acting like a real psycho recently." She didn't even want to entertain the thought, but with the way things were going around here? Well, people were acting so unlike themselves that it was hard to tell.
"There are lots of girls missing, Annie," Max said gently, leaning in a bit. "So you went to talk to the guy. What'd he say? Did you tell him your theory?" he asked, tilting his head. "Annie, if Belli is dangerous or had something to do with it, you think running to him with your idea was the best plan?"
"… I didn't think about that. But either way, I can take care of myself. I don't know if you know this, but I'm pretty much a badass." Maybe Max was right about the charging head first into this theory, but Annie wasn't the type to beat around the bush. "I just told him that it all seemed very strange to me. He seemed nice enough, but something was off. I know it was. There's more to him than meets the eye, Max. You believe me, don't you? You don't think I'm crazy?"
I know you well enough to know you're crazy," Max sighed, "but that still doesn't mean I don't believe you. It's a weird situation. This whole town's going fucking nuts." He exhaled, took another swallow of his drink. "I just... you need to be careful, Annie. Even Gilman. I didn't like the little shit very much, but he seemed okay when you were with him. The guy that came in here was nothing like the one you were doing it with."
"Hey," she said gently, a hand reaching out over the bar to squeeze his own. "Didn't I just tell you that I'm a badass bitch? Nobody's gonna mess with me. Just look at these guns." Annie gave a playful wink, but she had the feeling that Max wasn't impressed, so she gave him a sober look and a nod. "I promise I'll be careful, alright? If anything happens, I'll send up the Max Signal and you can come rescue me."