"You Lee Darcey?" I asked when he brought back the beers.
"That's right."
I flashed my badge. "Is there anywhere we can talk?"
"Sure. The back room, right through there." He turned to the other bartender. "Take over for a while, Frankie." Then he ducked under the bar and followed the Duke and me into the back room.
We sat down, and I showed him the picture of Lawrence Nestor. "I understand you've seen this guy."
He picked up the picture and cocked an eyebrow at it. "Well, I wouldn't swear to it in court, Inspector, but it sure looks like the fellow who was in here this afternoon—this evening, rather, from six to about six-thirty. I don't come on duty until six, and he was here when I got here."
It was just seven o'clock. If the man was Nestor, we hadn't missed him by more than half an hour.
"Notice anything about his voice?"
"I noticed the lisp, if that's what you mean."
"Did he talk much?"