Happy Gary's was like any other hole-in-the-wall type of bar, a downright cliché.
The small establishment featured a tiny stage barely big enough to hold three people. Off to the side, half a dozen well-used booths lined the outer walls while the undeniable center piece was the large bar, seating at least twenty lonely souls.
A large portion of the back wall and ceiling were reserved to hold cleaned glassware and over a dozen beers could be found on tap, ready to serve whichever desperate patron would walk through the doors.
Richard Castle counted a good fifteen suits occupying this place as they walked in, the rest of the clientele blue collar workers or disgruntled husbands- if he were to trust his experienced senses when it came to first impressions and unfriendly scowls.
A creaky ceiling fan distributed enough air to get rid of the blue hue coming from the chain-smoking band of cooks in the back, though not enough to erase the distinctly sweet aroma of marihuana.
Staying a few feet back, he watched Beckett cross the short distance to the bar, setting one foot on the golden railing running below as she leaned against the wooden threshold, digging for her badge as she tried to get the bartender's attention.
Taking in her lean frame for a precious moment, Castle sighed, trying to clear his mind of the words best saved for a better occasion, then approached the bar, giving his partner-in-crime backup as she waited for the bartender.
Eventually, a scruffy man in his mid-fifties approached, eying them suspiciously as he wiped his hands on his stained apron.
"You want a drink, folks?"
"No, we're here to ask you a few questions. I am Detective Kate Beckett, this is Richard Castle.", Beckett introduced them and flashed her badge fleetingly, then pointed south, "One of your patrons, a man…who visited this bar tonight was killed just a few blocks from here. I need to know if he met somebody here, or if he got into trouble with anybody."
Upon the other man's widening eyes, Beckett pulled out their victim's driver's license tucked away in an evidence bag, holding it close enough for the bartender to see.
"You have got to be kidding me?! Donny is dead? Wh…what happened? He was a great guy. Everyone loved him."
"Well, somebody didn't and decided to break his neck. So, we need to figure out if he had any enemies. Did anything happen while he was here tonight?"
Even though Beckett was prying, Castle could tell that the other man was in too deep of a shock to think clearly, his frantic hands searching for something to fidget with, eventually ending back up on his apron.
"Nothing. He…he comes in here every Wednesday for his prime rib sandwich. Has been doing so for years."
"He didn't talk to anybody? Didn't get into an argument?"
"No, lady, I swear to you. He got here around 4pm, had a couple beers, watched the game and ate his dinner. Then he paid his tap and left for home. He always walked home, didn't bother calling in a taxi. His favorite seat is the back corner there, right up against the Keno machine."
Castle watched Beckett nod, before pointing toward a dusty video camera up in the corner near the kitchen doors.
"Are you running video surveillance on this place?"
"It's just for show. That one and the one out front haven't worked in years.", the bartender explained woefully and shook his head, "I wish I could help you more but I gotta get back to my living and breathing customers. Please do let me know who killed our friend. We all loved Donny."
