"I'm telling ya, Rodney told me that he read the files and the coroner's report that the Frisco Homicide guys sent their lieutenant before he gave them to Hawkins." Tim Williamson told his trio of friends who were sitting on the opposite side of the bar.
"And you're sure that Rodney said that the victim they found in the bay was young David Cummings?" one of the men frowned.
The barman nodded as he reached for his drink and downed the contents of the glass before wiping his lips with the back of his hand as he lowered the glass back down on the counter and refilled his glass. "Of course, I'm sure, and I'm telling you, I bet that it was one or more of those long-haired hippies that he had started hanging around who is responsible. I tried to warn him they were no good after he came back to town and started calling himself Phoenix."
One of his three spell-bound audience snickered, "Phoenix."
"He probably decided to call himself after that mythical bird from that old story where some sort of magical bird rose from the ashes after it was killed. The kid was always fascinated by stories like that, even when he was little." One of the other men volunteered. "And after the way John treated him after Mary died, no wonder David ran away and joined that damn commune. Hell, the name Phoenix kind of suited him. Sounds like he was rising from the ashes of his old life and was trying to make a new life for himself."
The other three men nodded their agreement.
"I tried to warn him when I saw him back in town with them dirty, long-haired, druggy hippies to get away from them as fast as he could but did he listen?" Tim growled before picking up the glass and swallowing the shot of whiskey in one large gulp. Slamming the glass back down on the bar, he hissed angrily. "No! And what did it get him? I'll tell you what it got him! It got him killed! Rodney told me that the coroner's report he read said that those bastards shot him full of drugs before they beat him to a pulp and dumped his body in the bay." He paused as he heard the other men gasp in horror over the brutal death of one of their own before he continued, "And the only way they could identify his body was by his fingerprints…"
"And we all know that he's not the only one!" Jeff Higgins nodded knowingly before taking a small sip of the free drink that Tim had poured for him.
A small group of men who had been drinking together further down the small bar overheard the three friends' conversation and joined them at the bar.
"How do you know?" One of the newcomers asked, frowning.
"How do I know?" Jeff Higgins snarled, turning to face the newcomer, as the drink he was holding splashed over his hand. "I'll tell you how I know. We have not one but two Homicide cops, one a lieutenant, from Frisco staying in town and asking questions about that hippy commune or more specifically, they are asking everyone they meet questions about some of the girls who were in the commune and who ain't there now. And some of those missing girls they're askin' about, I know for a fact are underage!" A small murmur of anger spread amongst the growing crowd surrounding the small group at the bar as Rob added hotly, his disdain and hatred for the hippies evident in his voice, "And if ya been reading my paper, you would know that the Frisco cops have been dragging girls' bodies out of the bay. And one of my most reliable sources has confirmed that those bodies belong to the missing girls from that commune!"
"What's Hawkins doin' about it?" One of the men demanded angrily.
"Not a damn thing!" Rob Clements spat out in disgust. "When I was giving him his weekly tidy-up and shave this mornin', I asked him about them murdered girls from the commune and he said that Novato police aren't even investigating them! He said it ain't even the local cops' case! He told me that's why those two Frisco cops are here, they're the ones investigating the murders of them poor girls who were dumped in the bay like a piece of unwanted garbage, and we should co-operate with them as much as we can and stay out of their way, so they can do their jobs."
"Doing their job? How are they doing their job when they know those hippies are the killers and they still let David get murdered?" Tim growled as he topped off all the group's glasses again before pouring another glass of the fiery whiskey for himself and downing it in a single gulp. Slamming the glass back down on the bar, he eyed each of his friends and the rest of the small group who were now surrounding them as he announced, "Those Frisco cops don't give a damn about this town or any of us locals and neither does Hawkins! Rodney told me that all Hawkins is worried about is upsettin' those hippy freaks. He doesn't care that they are murderin' innocent kids and God knows what else they are up to on that damn commune! If the cops aren't going to do anything about those murderous scum, then I say it's time that we do something about them, ourselves!"
"Like what?" One of the men asked before taking a sip from his glass.
"Like what? I'll tell you like what!" Tim's hold on the small shot glass that he was still holding on the bar in front of him tightened as he looked across at the small crowd gathered around him on the other side of the bar. "Like us giving those bastards a taste of their own medicine, starting tonight!" He ordered loudly as the other men began to nod and loudly voice their agreement.