Thomas sat contently in his booth seat in the back of the bar.
Benny's Bar as it was called. Though not your run of the mill cheaply watered down alley pub, it wasn't exactly a gentleman's club either. Many of the tables and wall sections had knife carvings and crude sketches in them, several chairs and stools were squeaky and somewhat rickety, just waiting for a notably heavy set patron to collapse them. The drinks, though not watered down, were short in variety, mostly a generic collection of beers and whiskey. Nothing like the imported champagnes and aged wines that a high scale bar or club would boast.
Tonight was a particularly slow night, only a dozen or so people were in patronage, most of which were a motley assortment of bums, hustlers, and gutter-rots.
"Not to your preference is it?" Came a voice.
Thomas turned his head back forward, looking to the rather young man sitting across from him.
It was his "contact",
Dalton Cortland.
He and Thomas sat across from each other at a dimly lit booth in the back of the bar with red leather seats and a dark oak wood table.
Thomas was wearing his suit and tie, while Dalton was dressed more casual, wearing a black leather jacket with a prominent silver cross emblazoned on the front. In his head he wore a bulky flat-bill cap and a pair of black jeans and black and white sneakers to match.
Dalton was more relaxed, leaning back in his seat, smirking over a tall glass of beer at Thomas, who sat upright with a stern expression on his face.
Thomas slightly squinted and replied,"Well, I generally prefer to avoid bars where I'm not even sure if what I'm drinking is beer or cow piss."
Dalton snorted in response and took a big gulp from his glass, a wave of copper brown beer passing his lips and pouring down his throat.
When he finished he sat his glass down, having drained the glass a forth of the way down.
As he wiped foam from his mouth with his sleeve, he said,"That's not very nice," his voice a moderate tome with an intense pitch to it,"this is a very nice place, and Benny is a nice guy. He just runs on a tight budget in certain cases."
Thomas grunted in retort, idly picking at a loose splinter on the table.
Dalton took a quick sip of beer and said,"Sorry I missed our 'appointment' last night, I was detailed last minute."
"That's fine," Thomas said, looking up at Dalton,"now tell me, do you have anything?"
"As a matter of fact," Dalton said,"I do. I have what I believe is a solid lead on your boy
Liam."
Dalton then took another big swig of beer, much to Thomas's impatient irritation.
When he lowered his glass, Dalton continued,"A friend of mine said they spotted him going into a little community cafe last night, with a pretty young lady in tow. No doubt his evening course." Dalton said with a short grin of grim humor.
"They're sure it's him?" Thomas demanded, now leaning forward intently.
"They're certain," Dalton insisted,"a tall pretty-boy with pale skin and shaggy red hair."
A strange glint appeared within the depth of Thomas's eyes.
That's him."Anything else?" Demanded Thomas.
"Sort of," Dalton replied,"I tried to get the name of the woman he was with, but couldn't dig up anything."
Thomas understood. If they could find out anything about the woman, they could learn where she had lived, and could then use her home as a point of triangulating potential feeding locations and tracking Liam's attacks. The trail of blood would eventually lead them to him.
"Keep investigating," Thomas demanded,"see if you can learn the woman's full name at least, that way we can locate her place of residence and go from there. Have your friend ask around regularly at that cafe, if that woman was a regular patron surely someone at least knew who she was. You pitch in too while your at it."
"Yes of course," Dalton said, a twang of indignity in his words,"I'll keep searching and let you know when I have something."
Dalton swallowed the last of the beer from his glass and then stood slowly, slapping a two dollar tip down on the table before strutting off for the door, leaving Thomas alone at the booth.
We've got your scent now you slippery bastard.Thomas grinned sharply in the dim light of the booth, his teeth holding a slight shine to them.