The sizeable barman seemed able to clear the patrons out with a loud bang of his shotgun. Once the flood of dragging boots sounded outside onto the low-lit street, a horrified sob came from what seemed directly behind the detective. Jessica hunched forward, gripping at her knees as she stared at the scene on the floor, her delicious red lips parted in a silent scream.
“Hey, hey, get outta here, doll. Not nothing you should be seein’, I'll take care of this.”
Harvey grabbed the mortified dame by the hand, leading her back out the door. Jessica pushed his hands away from her, stumbling in her heels back out to the bar giving him leave to investigate, she didn't question his motives, after all, the man was a cop.
Jack looked to the bottle, to the body, and then back to the bottle in debate. Why not? He slung the foggy thing back, taking maybe one too many sips but found himself still too sober. The whole scene snapped him back, no longer safe in the mist of bathtub brewed moonshine. He dropped to a knee, now keened eyes taking in the girl on the blood soaked floor. How many was this now? Hell, one was too many for him, but who cared to count any more.
The steel barrel of the weapon tapped against the dead girl’s necklace. He didn’t recognize the symbol, but that didn’t mean much. So many people coming in, so few going out, cultures were blending. Hanging by a simple chain, the trinket looked first like an oddly proportioned ‘8’ with a dot in the middle of each circle, horizontal crescents lay at the top and bottom of the figure, giving the symbol the look of a helix. The trinket looked simple enough, easy to remember, something that was easy enough to recognize.
Harvey raised the gun to his forehead, scratching his brow with the ironsight. Turning to the windows and doors, they were still held fast, no signs of forced entry. That would have narrowed things down, had the man at the bar not cleared the place empty of the usual scum that walked the city at night.
Or maybe that was the whole point of it.