Stepping inside, Nick and Christian were immediately struck by the bar's gloomy atmosphere. The air was thick and stuffy, carrying the lingering scents of stale beer and fried food. The green walls, clearly an attempt at creating ambiance, seemed to cheapen the interior instead. Dim lights cast long shadows, their weak glow barely illuminating the dark brown, round wooden tables and chairs scattered throughout the space.

The bar staff, mostly young women, moved about in black pants and green t-shirts emblazoned with the establishment's name. At the center of the room stood a large, dark bar counter. Behind it, a peculiar-looking bartender in the same green uniform was lining up a row of glasses, preparing drinks with mechanical precision. Monotonous music droned in the background, barely audible over the low murmur of the sparse crowd.

Nick's eyes scanned the room, searching for surveillance cameras. To his dismay, he found none. He noticed the patrons eyeing them curiously, whispered conversations dying down as they passed. It wasn't long before a blonde woman with a short haircut approached them. She wore all black, a small silver stud glinting in her nose.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" she asked, her voice tinged with nervousness. "I'm Evelyn, the manager here."

Nick flashed his badge discreetly. "Detective Nick Larsen, and this is my colleague, Christian Basher. We'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind."

Evelyn nodded, gesturing towards a table tucked away in a corner beneath the stairs. "Of course. Let's sit over there, away from prying eyes and ears. We don't get many police visitors here, and I'd rather not alarm the customers."

Nick and Christian settled into chairs on one side of the table, while Evelyn took a seat across from them, her hands clasped nervously on the tabletop.

"We appreciate your cooperation, Evelyn," Nick began, his tone professional but not unkind. "Two days ago, a young woman named Rose Saltano was found dead near your bar. We're wondering if you might have seen her here that night."

Nick produced his phone, pulling up a photo of Rose. Evelyn leaned in, studying the image carefully.

"I wasn't working two nights ago," she said slowly, her brow furrowed in concentration. "But I've seen this girl before. She came in with friends a while back, drinking mulled wine."

"Can you remember when that was?" Christian pressed gently.

"Maybe about a month ago? I can't say for certain, but it wasn't recent," Evelyn replied, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

Nick noted the slight hesitation in her answer, wondering if it was mere nervousness or something more. "Evelyn, is there someone who was working two nights ago that we could speak with?"

Evelyn's eyes darted towards the bar, as if searching for someone. After a moment, she turned back to the detectives. "The bartender, Arthur, was definitely working that night. I'll call him over."

A few minutes later, Evelyn returned with Arthur in tow. The bartender's appearance was striking, bordering on eccentric. His black hair was disheveled, as if he'd just rolled out of bed. Blue-tinted glasses perched on his nose, and his fingers were adorned with strange tattoos that resembled Egyptian hieroglyphics. It was clear from his demeanor that he was nervous, his eyes flicking between Nick and Christian as he approached.

"Hello, I'm Arthur, the bartender here," he said, his voice friendly despite the tension evident in his posture. "Evelyn said you had some questions for me?"

"That's right, Arthur," Nick replied, gesturing for the bartender to take a seat. "I'm Detective Nick Larsen, and this is my colleague, Christian Basher. We're investigating the murder of a young woman who was found dead two nights ago, not far from this bar. We're hoping you might have seen her that evening."

Nick once again displayed the photo of Rose on his phone. As Arthur leaned in to look, Nick noticed a change come over him. The bartender's fingers on his left hand intertwined, and he began to chew on the inside of his cheek – clear signs of growing anxiety.

"You know, it's really hard to say," Arthur began, his words coming out in a rush. "It was a Friday night, and we're always packed then. So many faces, you know?" He clasped his hands behind his back, as if trying to hide their trembling. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I can help you. If you'll excuse me, I should get back to work."

As Arthur turned to leave, he nearly collided with a tall brunette waitress carrying a laden tray of food and drinks. Nick and Christian exchanged a meaningful glance as they watched him go.

"He's a bit… odd, isn't he?" Christian remarked quietly.

Evelyn, who had been hovering nearby, was quick to defend her employee. "Yes, Arthur can be peculiar, but he's a good person at heart."

"Thank you for your time, Evelyn," Nick said, rising from his chair. He handed her a business card. "If you remember anything else or hear anything that might be relevant, please give me a call."

Evelyn nodded politely, escorting them to the exit. As they left, Nick couldn't help but notice Arthur behind the bar, anxiously watching their departure as he polished glasses with shaking hands.

Once outside, Nick shoved his hands in his pockets, his mind working overtime to process what they'd just witnessed.

"You know, Christian," he said, his voice low and thoughtful, "I don't buy that bartender's story for a second. My gut tells me he's lying to us. Did you see how nervous he got when he saw Rose's photo? Something's not right here."

An idea began to form in Nick's mind. Maybe they needed to speak with Arthur again, but not in the bar. After a brief discussion with Christian, they decided to return in a few hours, at the end of Arthur's shift, hoping to catch him alone and perhaps more willing to talk.

With their plan set, the detectives made their way back to Nick's police car, parked across the street from the Green Vault. As they climbed in, both men felt a mix of anticipation and unease. They were on the trail of something – but what that something was, and where it might lead them, remained to be seen.

Darkness had fallen over Austin, the streetlights casting long shadows across the quiet streets. Nick and Christian sat in tense silence, their eyes fixed on the entrance of the Green Vault. Finally, they spotted Arthur leaving the bar. The bartender had changed out of his work uniform, though he still wore the same black pants. He'd donned a sweatshirt, its yellow hood emblazoned with the image of a sleek sports car. As Arthur set off down the street, the detectives quietly exited their vehicle and followed at a discreet distance.

"Arthur, wait up," Nick called out as they drew closer. "We need to talk."

Arthur froze mid-step, then slowly turned to face them. His nervousness was palpable, his voice shaky as he spoke. "What do you want? I've already told you, I don't know anything."

"You see, Arthur," Christian said, his gaze steady and penetrating, "the problem is, we don't believe you."

Arthur's fingers on his left hand intertwined anxiously, and he began to rub his nose with his right, his eyes fixed on his shoes. Nick decided to change tactics, his tone becoming more friendly and approachable.

"Look, Arthur, I can see you're not a bad person," Nick said gently. "Please, just tell us what you saw that evening. Whatever it is, it's important."