Even now, Laura Connelly had the kind of beauty that turned the head of every man when she walked into a room. She chose to sit at the bar, and the way she sat with her back perfectly straight and her legs properly crossed, gave her an air of class. On most Tuesday afternoons, the place was nearly deserted. She paid for a straight shot, and when a man chose the barstool next to her, she at first ignored him.
Michael placed his order and then asked, "Can I buy you a shot?"
"Why not?"
"Why not indeed." Michael signaled the bartender to pour her another.
"What do you do?" she asked.
"I fly around a lot."
"Oh, you're a pilot."
"No, not a pilot. Mostly, I'm a flunky."
"I know how that feels. That's what I am too, just a flunky."
"I'm Michael, and you are?"
"Laura." She watched the bartender pour her next drink, and didn't notice that Michael hadn't touched his.
"Nice to meet you, Laura."
When he didn't appear to recognize her, she suspiciously sized him up. "You're not from around here?"
"Just got into town yesterday. I was looking for a place to eat when I found this one."
Laura leaned closer. "The food is not that great here. That's why the place is practically empty. I like it empty."
"So do I. It is very peaceful." He watched her reach for her glass. "You shouldn't be out alone, you know."
"Don't worry, my chauffer is right outside. I am safe."
"That's good to know."
"What do you do, again?"
"I work for a woman who has me fly all over the world doing favors for her."
"I wish you could do one for me."
"What favor would you like; I am good at all sorts of things?"
"Can you bring my father back from the dead?"
Michael cast his eyes downward. "No, I can't do that kind of favor."
"I didn't think so." She sighed and took another sip of her drink. "I just want to tell him something."
"Something important?"
"Very important, and I would have told him, but he died before I could."
"Sometimes that happens. People die when we least expect it."
"Oh, I expected it. I expected it a long time ago." Laura emptied her glass and stood up. "I have to go home now." Tears were streaming down her cheeks and she swayed as she walked, but for a drunk, she managed to walk a straight line.
When the bartender wasn't looking, Michael grabbed a napkin and carefully took hold of the bottom of Laura's shot glass. He slipped it inside the small paper sack he had in his jacket pocket, and then followed Laura to the end of the bar. He watched through a window as she got in a limo, punched a speed dial number on his phone, walked out the door, and headed to his rented car.