Grilling Continues

Five O'Clock rolled his eyes, biting his lip.  "Was there anyone at the piano?"

"Yup, our usual guy.  Real quiet, just plays."

"Anything we should know about your pianist?"

"'Bout our piano player?  I dunno, is there?"

The older of the pair was clearly not amused.  He put his head in his hand, nodding to Riviera.  He repharsed the question: "Who is your piano player?"

"Everyone calls him Georgie, but I dunno if that's his real name.  Takes him a while t'respond, see.  Doesn't say much when he does.  Real quiet, but good piano player, I'll give him that."

"When you noticed the customer choking, did he stop playing?"

"Not exactly."

The two detectives exchanged glances.  "What's that s'posed to mean?"

"I mean, he was playing a two-hand ditty, then the customer started gagging, and he kinda faded into playing with one hand until the guy recovered.  Just the higher keys.  Kinda wish he didn't, those keys sound awful..."

"That's beside the point."

"Would I be able to interject another thing that may be 'beside the point'?" I chanced.

Riviera raised an eyebrow cautiously.  "We'll decide that."

I nodded, leaning back in the chair.  "Well, Georgie's always at the place before op'nin', see?  Even before I get there, s'got a key t'the kitchen door.  I came in an hour before we were set to open, Georgie was ticklin' the ivories like he usually does.  I nodded t'him, and he slows his playin' t'just chords.  'Afternoon, Boss,' he says.  'Long Nose's comin' t'night.'  I heard him, but it didn't register at the time; Saturdays'r busy, and I had things t'worry 'bout.  He keeps on playin' the slow happy ditty he was just doin', then slipped into a minor key.  He held a chord, and glanced at me in the kitchen.  He kinda acts as our door, see.  His left side's facin' th'kitchen.  He glanced at me, I was at the fridge, and he says t'me, outta the blue, 'Y'know, I've heard a guy say that cyanide's tasteless.'"

The End

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