A visit to the municipal (from the Book Club Murders)

Beth parked the car as close as she could to the front door of the municipal liquor store.  It was cold and she didn't want to experience the frigid air for any longer than she had to.  They exited the car and Damien followed her through the front door of the muni.  A blast of warm air greeted them as they entered the building and strolled to the bar and deposited themselves on a couple of stools.  Damien rubbed his hands together like he was trying to start a fire to keep warm.
A tall, beanpole of a man behind the bar quickly came over and asked what they needed.
They both ordered a non-caffeinated coke.  When Damien got his wallet out to pay, Beth stopped him.
"I've got this," she said.  Damien smiled as he returned his wallet to his back pocket.  The bar tender brought the drinks and scooped up the cash.  He returned about a minute later with the change.
"Say, what can you tell us about the murder last night?" Beth began.
"Are you the police?"
"Uh, no.  We're private investigators hired by friends of Laura," Damien answered.
The beanpole cocked his head a little and then said, "I guess it can't hurt.  I don't know much though, just what I hear in the bar."
"So tell us what you've heard," Beth said politely.
"Like I said.  It's not much.  People stop in, ask questions, say things.  They're all searching for answers, like you two.  I keep my ears open, but everything I've heard is just all speculation.  The people that stop in here tend to think it's the old guy that goes around collecting cans.  He's out and about all hours of the day and night, always peeping in windows, doorways.  He rummages in our trash and picks out all the cans.  We do our own recycling here and tell him to get the hell away whenever we catch him, but sometimes he's able to sneak in, get what he wants, and sneak out.  It's hard to watch for him all the time.  Besides, we don't make much off the stuff anyway.  At least somebody can crank out a living and clean up the environment at the same time, I guess."
"What do you think?" Damian asked.
"You mean about who did it?
"Yeah," Damien answered.
"Well I don't think it was the old guy.  He's just a harmless old man.  Anyway, I didn't even mention him to the police, but I imagine someone else has by now.  I really have no idea, probably an outsider."
"Did you know Laura?"
"She stopped in here every Tuesday night after work I guess.  She and a couple of other women would come in and always sit at that corner table right over there."  He pointed to a hightop, round table big enough for five or six people to sit around comfortably.  Damien gazed toward the table, observing three, older men dressed in parkas and wool stocking caps drinking Guinness Stouts.  They were talking quietly and nodding toward Beth.  They stopped looking and busied themselves when they noticed Damien watching them.
"Think they know anything?" Damien asked the bar tender.
The bar tender looked in the direction of the old men at the corner table.  "You mean them?"
"Yeah."
"I doubt it, but you never know."
Beth said, "Let's find out."  Damien admired this woman so much.  She was smart, confident, and strong.  She got up with Damien following and walked over to the three old guys who were trying mightily not to notice the two as they were approaching.
Beth stood with her hands on the back of the only empty chair around the table with Damien beside her.  The three old guys looked over at the same time.
"Do you mind if we join you?" Beth asked.
"Looks like you'll need another chair for Junior," said Earl, the oldest of the three.  The other two chuckled.  Damian grimaced a little, but swung around to the adjoining table and slid a chair next to Beth's.  They both sat down.
"Could I buy you a drink, Miss?"
"You could, but I won't be needing one, sir."  They introduced themselves and began asking questions.  The old guys didn't appear to know anything about the murder, but came alive when the questioning came around to Gerald Hodges.