When Tara left, Bronwyn headed for Bourbon Street Blues Company for her meeting with the detective. A quick glance over the crowd told her that he hadn't arrived yet, so she claimed at stool at the bar and signaled for the bartender.<br/>"Jameson, right?" he said as he set a glass in front of her.<br/>"Aye, good memory." Bronwyn replied.<br/>"Well, you're memorable." He said in an offhand way as he filled the glass. "I'm Brandon, that's Sam." he cocked a thumb over his shoulder at the pretty blonde tending the other side of the bar.<br/>Bronwyn nodded in greeting. "Bronwyn." She pulled out her wallet to pay for the drink, but Brandon waved her off.<br/>"First one's on the house, for the other night." he grinned suddenly. "I hate that phony Irish putz as much as anyone else, and the look on his face when you and Tara left was priceless."<br/>Bronwyn chuckled. "Seems he's got a lot o' friends."<br/>Brandon snorted and turned away to take another drink order.<br/>Bronwyn sipped Irish whiskey and watched the rowdy crowd, waiting for the detective. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about Chicago, but she had said she would, and she always honored her word. Hopefully it would be a quick conversation.