They stepped inside the tavern. Dupree noticed the occupancy sign over the front door limiting the number of patrons to fifty, but based on a quick scan and headcount, she guessed that there were no more than fifteen patrons milling about. A few occupied the bar area. Two guys, dressed like hardcore bikers, played pool, and a couple other guys were shooting darts. Clearly defiant against the public no-smoking regulations, half the patrons were puffing on cigarettes and the two pool players sucked on cigars. The buzz of barroom chatter hushed to a whisper once the patrons spotted them. They gawked at the detectives, evidently aware they were cops.
Dupree and T.J. moved toward the bar. The bartender, tall and wiry with a long ponytail hanging to the center of his back, immediately greeted them.
“Hi, folks. I’m Jake. A little out of your element, no?” He chuckled. “What can I get for ya? A pitcher of Kool-Aid, a Perrier—maybe a Shirley Temple?”
“I think we’re just fine.” Dupree elbowed T.J. “Do you have the phone number for the Department of Public Health programmed in your cell?”
T.J. pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I think I do.”
“Hey, now,” Jake said, “let’s not get carried away. I was just messing with you. I know you’re not regulars so I figured you must be the law.”
“Apparently,” Dupree said, “you have no respect for the law or this place wouldn’t have a cloud of blue smoke hovering in the air. Now, Jake, can we have a little chat or would you like us to make the call?”
“Please don’t do that,” Jake pleaded. “How can I help ya?”
Dupree looked around and could see that everyone in the bar was paying very close attention to their conversation. She spoke softly. “We understand that you’re close friends with Oscar Cassano. Does he come in here often?”
Jake didn’t answer immediately. But the question clearly rattled his nerves. “Sorry, I never heard of the guy.”
“Really?” Dupree said. “Interesting you should say that because another patron of yours told us that he used to play pool with Cassano in here regularly.”
T.J. placed his elbows on the bar and peered at Jake. “He claims Cassano and you are bosom buddies.”
“Look it, I said I don’t know anybody by the name of Cassano and I don’t.”
“We’re wasting our time with this joker.” She looked at Jake. “We’ll be back in a little while. Don’t go anywhere.”
Dupree and T.J. turned and moved towards the front door.
“Wait!” Jake yelled.
“Is your memory working better now?” T.J. asked.
“Okay, okay,” Jake said. “I am pretty good friends with Oscar.”
“Then why did you deny it?” Dupree asked.
“Cassano is trouble. Big trouble.”
“Explain,” T.J. said.
“I heard some guys talking about something big going down and it involved Cassano.”
“That doesn’t tell us shit. Be more specific,” Dupree said.
“All I know is that it had to do with a robbery.”
“So you knew Cassano was going to be involved in a crime and did nothing?” T.J. said “I didn’t want to get involved.”
“Well, then,” Dupree said, “the way I see it, you are involved. You’re an accessory to a felony.”
“Please,” Jake said. “I had no idea—”
“I think you better come with us,” T.J. said.
The color drained from Jake’s face. “If you take me with you, I’ll have to throw everyone out and lock the doors. If the owner finds out, I’m out of a job. Isn’t there anything I can do to make things right?”
Dupree eyed T.J. “What do you think, partner? Should we give this schmuck a break?”
“Nah. There’s nothing he can do for us. We should cuff him and drag his ass to the police station.”
“Please,” Jake said, his hands shaking uncontrollably. “The next time Oscar comes in, I’ll call you right away. I swear. I mean, he’s the one you really want, right?”
T.J and Dupree didn’t say a word, acting as if they were considering his offer. Dupree reached in her handbag, removed a business card, and set it on the bar. “Two things. First, if we find out that Oscar showed up and you didn’t call us? I guarantee you’ll regret it. Second, I want you to display no smoking signs near the front door, behind the bar, in the bathrooms, and near the pool table. And if anyone—and I mean anyone—lights up, throw them out on their ass. Understood?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Now gather up your barflies and tell them the smoking party is over.”
On their way back to the precinct, traffic was impossible. Dupree tried a different route, but it seemed that half the city was trying it as well.
“Think Jake will come through?” Dupree asked.
“Not a chance.”
“What’s the expression? Thick as thieves?”
T.J. laughed. “Guess there’s a code of ethics among criminals.”
“It was worth a try,” Dupree said. “I’m thinking we should stake out Cassano’s place. What do you think?”
“Tonight?”
Dupree nodded. “Bring a thermos of coffee. It may be a long night.” Just then, her cell phone rang. She reached in her purse and pulled it out. When she glanced at the display, Dupree recognized the phone number and turned on the speaker. “What’s the good word, Brenda?”
“Did Captain Jensen call you yet?”
“I talked to him yesterday and gave him an update on the investigation, but haven’t spoken to him today. Why?”
“There’s a nice surprise waiting for you on your desk.”
“A box of Godiva dark chocolate truffles? You shouldn’t have, Brenda.”
“Better than chocolate.”
“The only thing better than chocolate is—”
“How about the bank records and cell phone activity for Jonathan Lentz?”
“Seriously?”
“Yep.”
“How the hell did they get the bank and mobile carrier to release the records so quickly?”
“Hey, Sugar, this is the new millennium, the world of electronics, e-mail, and text messaging. You hit a few keys on your computer, contact the right people, twist a few arms, and voila, it’s like magic.”
“Your name is going to the top of my Christmas list.”
“Hey, all I did was give you a head’s up.”
“Thanks for letting me know.”
“I’m on my way out. See you in the a.m., Amaris.
Dupree dropped the cell in her purse. “Time to get back to work.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Dupree and T.J. got back to the precinct a little after four p.m. There were a few lingering detectives—mostly finishing paperwork—and half a dozen administrative people. But for the most part, the majority of staff members were gone for the day. Dupree had learned early on that the life of a detective was not a nine-to-five job. She could remember investigating particularly difficult cases and working fifteen or twenty hours a day. Having an almost obsessive desire to crack a case, along with what felt like gallons of strong coffee, seemed to be the only two things that kept her going. It was cause for a celebration on the rare occasion she got more than five hours shuteye. For the most part, she functioned on power naps and closing her eyes for ten minutes while sitting on the toilet.
After Dupree had parked the squad car, she’d made a beeline for the precinct employee entrance, leaving T.J. several paces behind her. She could feel the adrenalin pumping as she made her way to her desk, anxious to review Lentz’s bank statements and cell records. Lying on her chair, she saw the bright green envelope with the word, “CONFIDENTIAL” printed across the top in big, bold letters. Below that it read, TO: Detective Amaris Dupree. FROM: Amy Sutherland. Dupree didn’t know Amy but at this particular point in time, she loved her!