Chapter 3

the chilly rain seemed to evaporate immediately from cardigan as he walked into the cozy confines of Poor Yorick's Pub. he hung his coat by the door and took a seat at the bar, greeting owner danny blake with a grunt. "what's on the menu today, danny boy?"

blake grabbed a pint glass and begin filling it with guinness. "shepherd's pie. interested?" blake raised a playful eye at his good friend and best customer.

"you read my mind, buddy. perfect for a nasty day like this." cardigan could eat most anything, and especially most anything that danny made, but shepherd's pie was a particular favorite. danny never used ground meat for his--rather, he stripped the meat from leftover braised lamb shanks, using the braising liquid as the base for the gravy. he also mashed roasted parsnips into the potato topping, giving the pie a distinctly different and pleasing flavor.

blake placed the pint on a coaster and walked into the back to get the shepherd's pie. cardigan took a healthy swallow of the stout, licking the foam from his lips, and looked around the pub. a tweedy professor-type was nursing a bass ale, reading the local paper, and danny's daytime waitress rachel was pecking away on a laptop at the end of the bar. not much business, but cardigan knew that danny didn't mind. hell, he probably preferred it that way. he didn't seem to need the money; he treated the pub as more of a hobby. he offered only two beers: guinness stout and bass ale, and didn't stock any liquor or wine. he offered tea--iced or hot--but no coffee, along with classic coke, ginger ale, and water. he only served one dish each day: whatever he felt like making, which might be nothing more than a corned beef sandwich. he didn't have a jukebox; he preferred to choose the music himself than give random customers that kind of power. there was a snooker table, despite the fact that only about 10 people in town knew how to play. in short, the pub was geared toward his likes and dislikes, not his customers.

when blake returned with the steaming shepherd's pie, cardigan was just finishing up his pint. "damn. i don't have anything to wash it down with now."

blake nodded. "yeah, that's a problem. i'll see what i can do." he pulled another draught and set it down. "what're you working on today?"

cardigan was fanning his open mouth, cursing. "dammit, that's hot!"

"yeah. most people figure that out when that see that smoky-looking stuff rising off the surface. scientists call that 'steam' and they say, well, in layman's terms, they say it's hot."

cardian took a quick sip and dug his fork in again. "it's good, though." he broke off another piece and let it sit there to cool off. "a missing person case. guy named james livermore, a chef from a place called Verona. know it?"

"i've seen it, but never been there. seems popular."

blake nodded, chewing. "it is, and livermore is a big reason why. he went missing last week and the owner is freaking out. he moved to that upscale location because livermore was pulling in a huge costumer base at his old location."

"if he's that good, i'm sorry i never made it over there." danny looked interested.

cardigan shook his head. "it wasn't the food as much as his personality. they have one of those open-air kitchens where the customers can watch their food being made, and he'd entertain them while he cooked, doing impersonations. the owner said he was damn good and could do anybody from john wayne to homer simpson."

blake was fixing himself a cup of tea, squeezing a little honey into the mug. "if he was so good, why wasn't he in vegas?"

"the owner said that people asked livermore that all the time, and he always answered that his true passion was cooking. you know, like yours," cardigan grinned as he pushed the last forkful into his mouth.

"nah, my true passion is mixed-martial arts. they call me The Lawgiver!" he flexed his arms, showing off his barely perceptible biceps.

"uh huh." cardigan swallowed the last of his pint. "you keep telling yourself that." he placed a folded $20 on the bar. "i'm meeting a friend of his at 2 o'clock. hopefully, she'll have something for me. later."

"see ya, gav"