“Well,” Brenda said, “don’t think either of us can fix the problem here and now, so how can I help you today?”
“This is asking for a miracle, but is there any way to search the New York State prison system by first name only and look for someone who served time but is no longer incarcerated?”
Brenda placed her hands on her hips. “Girl, this here computer can do anything but bake fresh cornbread.” Brenda laughed out loud. “I only hope his name isn’t Joe or John.”
“Actually, it’s Oscar.”
“Oscar? Guess his parents didn’t much like him. Anything else you can tell me?”
“He’s likely Italian, was probably in a New York prison for assault and battery or aggravated assault, and he shaves his head.” Dupree thought for a moment. “Depending when his mug shot was taken, he might have had a full head of hair and a beard like Santa. We have him on surveillance tapes, but we can’t see enough of him for facial recognition.”
Brenda folded her arms. “This is going to take some time, Sugar.” She gazed up at the wall clock. “How about you come back in an hour?”
“Sure that’s enough time?”
Brenda nodded. “No problem.”
“You rock, Brenda.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I might come up with a goose egg.”
Dupree held up her hand with her fingers crossed. “Let’s hope not.
Dupree headed back to her desk and told T.J. about her conversation with Brenda.
“Good thinking,” T.J. said.
Dupree looked past T.J., deep in thought. She nervously fussed with her hair.
“You’re still concerned about that letter, aren’t you?” T.J. said.
“Sure am. I contacted the courier, hoping they’d have some info on the sender, but all they could tell me was her name: Mary Dupree.”
“I know it spooked you, Amaris, but you live in a secure building with twenty-four hour security. No way anyone’s going to get into your apartment.”
Dupree appreciated T.J.’s effort to ease her anxiety. But they both knew that a determined criminal could break into Fort Knox if motivated enough. After all, didn’t Oscar break into Dr. Crawford’s apartment? Didn’t her apartment have twenty-four hour security? She wanted to call him out on it. But why minimize his thoughtful attempt to support her? “Whoever sent that letter might have a different agenda than just breaking in. Besides, how did they know I have cats?”
“Don’t know. Just be cautious and mindful of your surroundings. Whoever sent the letter is just trying to distract you from the investigation.”
“Well,” Dupree said, “mission accomplished.”
She tried to conceal her fear, but figured her face told a different story.
“Ready to rough up Lentz?” T.J. said
“Looking forward to it.”
Dupree picked up an eight-by-ten manila envelope off her desk and tucked it under her arm. Trailing behind T.J. towards the interview room, Dupree tried to mentally prepare herself for what she suspected would be a significant interview.
T.J. reached for the doorknob and was about to turn it when Dupree saw him look at the manila folder under her arm. “What’s in the envelope?”
“Just trying to go two for two.”
T.J. opened the door shaking his head. “Huh?”
“You’ll see.”
T.J. shrugged and entered the room. Dupree followed close behind. They found Lentz right where they’d left him, but by the look on his face, Dupree was certain he was way past the point of moderate irritation.
“Are you detectives serious or what? You make me sit here like a criminal and I haven’t done a damn thing.”
“I apologize, Mr. Lentz,” Dupree said. “Detective work is unpredictable.”
“I couldn’t give a shit less. I want a lawyer, and I want one right now!”
“Sure thing,” Dupree said. “Do you have someone in mind, or should I contact the Public Defender’s office?”
“I have my own lawyer. Just get me a telephone.”
“No problem,” Dupree said. “But can you just give me a minute to share something with you?”
Lentz looked at his watch. “You’ve got one minute.”
Dupree held up the manila envelope. “Remember when I told you that a subpoena to release your bank account information and cell phone records would be coming soon?”
Dupree saw Lentz swallow hard, but he didn’t say a word. His eyes were locked on the envelope.
“Here it is, Mr. Lentz. By noon tomorrow, we’ll have a complete summary of your banking activity and a list of every call you made and received on your cell phone.”
He licked his lips and cracked his knuckles.
“Now I want you to listen to me very carefully,” Dupree said. “You can try to bullshit us all you want. But in the end, we know that you are somehow linked to Dr. Lauren Crawford’s murder. We’re not saying that you pulled the trigger or directly harmed her. But you’re connected. If not today, maybe tomorrow, or maybe next week, you’ll be facing serious charges. Charges that will get you ten, maybe fifteen years in a twelve by twelve cage. If you come clean right now and tell us everything you know, we’ll talk to the DA and help you any way we can. But this is a one-shot deal. Take it now or roll the dice.” Dupree mocked him with an exaggerated grin. “Know what else? You’re a pretty attractive man, Mr. Lentz, and I’m sure, absolutely certain that the inmates are going to find you very appealing. Get my drift? Or do I have to explain?”
This was the moment of truth Dupree had faced with dozens of suspects. It was a game of poker. Dupree claimed to have the ace of spades. Now it was time for Lentz to fold or call her bluff.
“Can I call my lawyer now?”
His defiance stunned Dupree. She thought for sure he’d cave in. She didn’t believe so, but maybe his bank records and cell phone activities wouldn’t reveal anything incriminating.
“You’re free to go,” Dupree said. “But we’ll be talking again real soon.”
Without uttering another sound, Lentz glared at Dupree with contempt, sprang up like a jack-in-the-box, bolted for the door, and slammed it after he walked out.
Dupree looked at T.J., shaking her head. “That went well.”
“Either he’s got nothing to hide,” T.J. said, “or he’s an idiot.”
“Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” Dupree glanced at her watch. “Let’s go talk to Brenda.”
On the way to speak with Brenda, neither Dupree nor T.J. said a word to each other—a rare phenomenon. Dupree guessed that the case had drained T.J as much as it had her. Since becoming a homicide detective, she’d worked on dozens of difficult cases. Some that involved multiple murders, mutilated bodies, children beaten to death, gang-related shootings, and snitches killed execution style by the mob. All of the murders disturbed her, of course, but this investigation heightened her anguish. At first, when she recognized that this case was like no other, she wasn’t quite sure what distinguished it. But now that some time had passed and she’d learned more about Dr. Crawford and her groundbreaking cancer research, Dupree realized why the case meant so much to her.
Her mother had died of breast cancer and Dr. Crawford had worked tirelessly searching for a cure, or at least a more effective treatment that would extend a patient’s life while preserving their quality of life. This was the connection. This was why Dupree would not rest until she solved the case. With Dr. Crawford gone, who would finish her work? How many more people would senselessly die from this horrible disease if no one carried on with the research?
And then there was another issue Dupree tried desperately to flush out of her mind, but like a nagging migraine, it just wouldn’t go away. She didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to feel envious or resentful, yet she could not lie to herself. It seemed that Dr. Crawford had enjoyed the kind of mother-daughter relationship Dupree longed for. When Mrs. Crawford spoke of her daughter, she glowed with pride. When the heartbroken woman told Dupree that her daughter called twice a day, every day, and that they had dinner together twice a week, Dupree could only feel envy. She imagined what it would be like if she and her daughter enjoyed the same intimacy. Yes, Dupree had good reason to embrace this investigation. It was more than just doing her job. Right or wrong, it was now personal.