Quick Be Jack: A Jack Nolan Novel (The Cap's Place Series Book 3)

by Robert Tarrant

  Walking up to the two sergeants Tim jabbed, "Hello ladies, another day in the neighborhood?"

  The larger of the two, Randy Siegel, looked up and with his mouth half full of hamburger and said, "Well, if it isn't The Beast. Where's Beauty?"

  The second, Vic Thomas, looked up and grunted, "She's probably locating a quiet romantic table in the corner for them."

  Siegel, "I don't know. Damn crowded today. She might have to sit on your knee Tim."

  Tim back at them, "Now, now, you keep up like that and you'll have to stop at The Man Trap for a lap dance before you go home."

  Thomas with feigned disgust, "Damn Siegel, do we have to wait for the end of the shift? I was going to stop this afternoon sometime."

  "You two guys are something else," chided Tim as he turned and walked away looking for PJ.

  He found her seated at an outside table on the far end of the deck along the water, "Nice spot. If I don't like my sandwich I can feed it to the manatees."

  "I know you'd rather sit inside with the Bobbsey twins, but I get tired of living my life in conditioned air. Besides, I don't know that I feel up to their constant verbal sparring today," mused PJ as she studied the menu.

  "Those guys are alright. Actually, they're both damn good to have in your corner in a shit storm," declared Tim with a far away look suddenly forming in his eyes. "Fourteen years ago, right after I got here, Randy Siegel took two slugs in a hell of a fire fight with a couple of heavily armed stickup guys coming out of a bank. Damn near died. Was off for over a year. That was when he started putting on weight and it seemed to go downhill from then on. Had been a fit guy. Still one hell of a cop."

  PJ replied, "I remember the news stories about the shootout. Obviously, it was before my time here. I remember that the news reports said that he was pinned down and would have bled to death if it hadn't been for the aggressive actions of the second officer arriving on the scene. The second officer charged the position held by the shooters and killed both. Who was that? I know I heard the names on the news at the time, but they didn't mean anything to me then."

  Tim started to respond, but was interrupted by the waiter who appeared at the table and asked if they were ready to order. After asking several questions, PJ settled on the seafood salad with fresh pineapple as her side. Tim opted for the fried perch sandwich with fries. Both ordered iced tea.

  "I see that you're back on your diet," prodded PJ.

  "Hey, it's not red meat," defended Tim as he pulled his vibrating cell phone from his belt.

  Tim answered his cell, listened for a couple of minutes and responded, "We're having lunch now. We'll stop in when we finish. Thanks."

  As Tim talked, PJ found herself watching him closely. She didn't know what she was looking for, but she couldn't stop looking. As Tim ended the call and returned the phone to the holder on his belt, PJ inquired, "Who are we stopping to see?"

  "Beans. Says he's been able to enhance the video footage we got at the scene this morning."

  "I hope it can help to point us in some direction. We need to get some traction on this case. This makes two robberies at after hours bank depositories in the past three weeks," said PJ as the waiter set the iced teas on the table.

  "Some cases are like a ball of string. You spend most of your time just looking for an end to grab. Once you get ahold of an end, it unrolls in no time at all. The trick is to not lose heart before you find that end," said Tim as he reached for his tea.

  "I hear you partner. I'm just worried that we aren't going to find that end until it's too late . . . until someone gets killed."

  "We just keep turning the ball over and gently tugging at string until we loosen something and find an end. We'll find the end and it will unravel," replied Tim as he lusted after a platter of fried clams being served at the table next to them.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  PJ and Tim found Beans sitting behind his desk, deeply engrossed in a photo displayed on his computer screen, but almost hidden behind a mountain of case files. Tim broke the silence, "You know Beans, for a guy with such an orderly mind, you sure have a mess for an office."

  "Damn it Tim, you startled the shit out of me," shrieked Beans before he noticed PJ trailing behind Tim and added, "Oh, sorry PJ. Didn't see you there."

  "No need to apologize to me for your office," replied PJ, intentionally missing the point.

  "I didn't mean the office, I meant..........oh, never mind," sputtered Beans.

  Beans looked just like you would expect a computer geek to look. His coke bottle thick glasses were perched on a long pointed nose that fronted a pinched placid face. His off-white shirt looked like he'd slept in it, but coordinated well with the rumpled gray trousers. If you open the dictionary to the word "nerd" Beans jumps out at you. Yet, this exterior conceals one of the finest forensic computer analysts in South Florida.

  Tim and PJ each moved a stack of case files from the two chairs facing Beans' desk and set them on the floor under the narrow table along one side of the small windowless office. Tim poked, "I know that everything has a place, so just remember that the piles under the table belong on the chairs."

  Beans looked perplexed and then said, "Oh yeah. Sure. Thanks."

  PJ took the lead. She knew they'd get to the point quicker if she led. Beans and Tim seemed to enjoy their senseless banter, but Beans would be all business with her. It was probably his effort at impressing her. There was little doubt that he had a crush on PJ. "So Beans, you've got something from the security video of this morning's robbery?"

  Beans pushed his glasses back up his nose, "I do. I'm not certain it will help you locate suspects, but it may help narrow the field once you have potential suspects in mind."

  Tim chimed in, "We'll take anything we can get at this point. In both jobs the vehicles used by the perps were stolen that night and abandoned shortly after the robbery in comparatively remote areas. No prints, no physical evidence at all. The perps obviously know they are performing on camera so they're dressed in dark coveralls with stocking masks and gloves. Nothing identifiable there."

  PJ was growing impatient, "So what have you got Beans?"

  Beans struck a few keys on his computer keyboard and a large monitor, mounted on the sidewall of his cluttered office, flickered to life. With a laser pointer, Beans directed their attention to the points he was making. Not the first time he'd explained enhanced video to investigators. "What you are looking at is the video from the camera mounted in the canopy over the drive thru lanes of the bank." He stroked a key and the video started playing. "This is the victim's car pulling through the drive thru and up to the night depository. You see the two perps' vehicles pin him in. The perps get out of their cars. Now . . . right here." He hit another key and the image froze, "Here we have the best shot of both perps."

  Beans sat up a little taller in his chair and again pushed his glasses back up his nose. "I called the guys at the impound lot and had them get me exact measurements of the height of the perps' vehicles here," indicating with the laser pointer, "and here." He hit a few more keys, "From those measurements I created a scaled graph I could overlay like this." One last key stroke and a graph of equal distance squares covered the picture.

  Now Beans picked up a sheet of paper from his overflowing desk, "Perp one is 6 foot 3 inches tall and perp two is 5 foot 6 inches tall." Picking up another sheet of paper from his desk and handing it to PJ he continued, "I did some additional extrapolation from the scale and came up with approximate clothing sizes for both perps. I think there is a good possibility that the smaller perp is a woman, but that's just a guess. Everything I came up with is on that sheet. I know it's not much, but this may help you down the line when you have suspects to look at."

  PJ looked up from the sheet, "Hey Beans, this is great. Both victims were so scared at the time of the robbery that their descriptions are pretty vague. This is great stuff. It's more than we've had to date. Thanks much."

  Tim rubbed his forehead, "Have you had a cha
nce to look at all of the video from both robberies? Anything else of note jump out at you?"

  Beans shook his head, "I have looked at all of the video. We have three cameras from each venue. I actually ran all six simultaneously side by side on split screen. The movements in both events are very precise and nearly identical. No wasted motion. Almost military in nature. Very professional."

  Tim shook his head, "Yeah, we noticed that when we took a quick look at a couple of the videos. Military was exactly the thought that came to our minds as well. They seem very comfortable with those assault weapons. Not swinging them wildly about like gang bangers. Of course, with the number of people we've pushed combat experience on in the last decade, that doesn't exactly narrow the suspect field."

  PJ slipped the sheet of paper Beans had given her into the portfolio she was carrying and asked, "You have anything else for us at this point Beans?"

  Beans scanned the ream of paper spread across his desk, "Nope. That's it for now. I'll keep running through the videos, but I don't think there is much more to find. I have tried enlarging the images in an effort to identify more detail, but they just wash out before I can identify anything notable."

  Tim and PJ thanked Beans for his efforts and went back to their office.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Mid-afternoon Wednesday, PJ called and asked if I could meet her after she got out of work. She wanted to talk about Tim, but didn't want to talk at Cap's Place. "Too many distractions," she said. Of course, I would agree to meet her anywhere. I wanted to suggest that we could meet in my apartment upstairs over Cap's, but knew that was a non-starter, so kept the idea to myself. We agreed to meet at the Moonlite Diner in Oakwood Plaza near Stirling and I-95. The Moonlite is built to look like one of the original '50s diners with a shiny metallic silver exterior. Red vinyl upholstery on the counter stools and booths carry the theme inside. We'd met there in the past.

  I arrived first and took a booth I thought would afford us some privacy in a back corner. I ordered a Landshark while I waited. Got to love Florida, beer is served just about everywhere. I'd just taken the first drink of my beer when PJ arrived. She wore her usual uniform of a dark pants suit, white blouse and sensible flat heeled shoes. She looks great even dressed down like that, I can't imagine what a knockout she must be when dressed up.

  The waitress followed PJ to the booth. I offered, "Would you like a drink?"

  PJ sighed, "I really would, but I have to pick Angela up in a little over an hour, so I better stick to iced tea."

  As the waitress left to get PJ's iced tea I asked, "How is the teenager these days?"

  PJ's face looked tired, but her green eyes smiled at the mention of Angela, "She's doing great. Playing soccer. That's where she is, soccer practice. She loves it and it's giving her something to focus on besides how dumb her mother is."

  "Speaking of her mother, you look tired. Busy at work?"

  "Very busy. In addition to our already bursting caseload, Tim and I caught this investigation of a budding string of stick-ups of business owners making late night deposits at banks. In both instances the perps were armed with assault rifles and they seemed to be more than ready to use them. I'm afraid that if we don't get these guys, it's only a matter of time until someone is seriously hurt or killed."

  The waitress returned with PJ's iced tea and we ordered, PJ a spinach salad with grilled chicken and me a turkey Reuben. I would have bet my bar that PJ would order a salad. It's a well documented fact that women never eat anything except salad in public.

  After we were alone again I said, "You hadn't said anything more about your concern that Tim may have been the leak that almost got Sissy killed at the Pinnacle, I thought maybe you changed your mind?"

  PJ looked directly at me and now those beautiful green eyes looked as tired as her face. Slowly, she said, "The short answer is no, I haven't changed my mind, I'm still concerned. I was probably premature in telling you of my concern weeks ago. My theory was just starting to take shape back then. I guess the very inkling of this theory was so shocking I just needed someone to share it with. You were the only one I felt comfortable even mentioning it to. I sure can't say anything to anyone around the department. If I'm wrong it would destroy my relationship with Tim, my credibility, and to some extent even Tim's reputation. With your experience as a prosecutor I thought you could help me sort through things. It wasn't fair to mention it to you and then not follow up with you. I'm sorry."

  I locked eyes with her and said, "Nothing to apologize for. I figured that either you changed your mind and dismissed the thought, or you were just too busy to get back to me."

  PJ sighed, "The truth is, I continue to agonize over the whole thing. On one hand I don't believe it could possibly be true. My God, Tim's one of the best cops I know. Yet, I can't get this nagging concern out of my head. He's the only one I can think of that knew both, who Sissy was, and exactly where she was." Obviously deep in thought, PJ hesitated and took a drink of her iced tea. I waited. Finally, she continued, "Jeff Spencer was probably the only one at the Pinnacle who really knew much about who she was. No way he, or anybody there could have gotten in contact with whoever was working for Dockery that fast. There would have been no way for them to make the connection. The only explanation I can come up with is that Tim has ties to someone in organized crime who had a connection with the hit man. I know it sounds like a stretch, but I can't come up with anything more plausible."

  Dockery was the free lance reporter who had hired someone to kill a Miami Herald reporter and a young woman working at Cap's, in order to pirate a story they were working on. The killer went after Sissy when he mistakenly thought he had killed the wrong woman in the first place. He met his demise at Justin's hands, although I'm the only one who knows that little detail.

  PJ drew a deep breath and said, "There is something about this whole mess that you probably don't know Jack. A few years ago the FBI conducted a major undercover investigation into corruption within Hollywood PD. Heavy stuff, narcotics, protection, even murder. They rooted out a bunch of bad apples, but the investigation never reached everyone who was dirty. Information about it leaked out and they shut it down early. It was the general belief that a number of bad cops slipped through the noose. Some of the allegations were exactly what we are talking about, giving confidential law enforcement information to mobsters to either protect them, or assist them in their criminal enterprises. It is possible that Tim is one of those who slipped away, but is back at it." PJ rubbed the bridge of her nose, "I just don't know what to think."

  Listening to PJ talk I couldn't help but think of Lorenzo Mancuso. If Tim did have ties to organized crime in the area it could be to Mancuso, or someone working for him. PJ doesn't know about my connection to Mancuso and his daughter and I'm not about to tell her. At least not at this point. We were both silent as we considered her theory about Tim and its ramifications.

  Finally, I broke the silence, "I suggest this approach. Let me put some thought into what went on at the time of the attack on Sissy. I will chart the timeline out as I know it, listing everyone involved and what they knew. If you haven't already done the same thing, you do it also. Chart out who knew what and when they knew it. Once we've squeezed everything we can out of our memories independently, we'll sit down together and compare our timelines. If at the end of that process Tim is the only logical suspect, we can develop a strategy to dig deeper. How does that sound?"

  PJ sighed, "You're right. We need to be methodical about this. I've done exactly what you suggest, but only in my mind. I've never put it down on paper. I know I could be missing something. I must be missing something. I hope and pray I'm missing something. With all of my heart, I don't want it to be Tim. I just have to go where the evidence leads me."

  I responded, "Exactly, and if we are methodical you'll be comfortable that you're following the actual evidence, even though it may be circumstantial. If we're thorough enough, maybe we'll see someone else, someone we're not even conside
ring at the moment. There may be a bad apple inside, but it may not be Tim."

  PJ frowned ever so slightly, "Ah, you mean, not jumping to conclusions."

  "I'm not saying you're jumping to conclusions. Yet, you're not comfortable with the conclusion you've come to. It doesn't feel right to you. So, what I'm saying is that we should go step by step, by the book, so you know beyond a doubt that your conclusion is sound."

  PJ nodded in the affirmative, "You're right Jack. You're just right. I could be missing something critical. I think I've been afraid to put anything on paper, do a step by step analysis like you described, because it would confirm that I'm actually investigating Tim. Any other case and I would have done exactly that long ago."

  I interrupted, "We're not investigating Tim. It would be shortsighted of us to think we are investigating Tim. We're investigating the leak of information that almost got Sissy killed. As you said earlier, we'll go where the evidence takes us."

  For the first time since she arrived, PJ's face seemed to relax just a bit, "Thanks, Jack. I knew you'd help me. I'm too close to the situation. I need your objective view of things. Your experience as a prosecutor scrutinizing police investigations. You're a good friend and I really appreciate your help."

  Our food arrived and we made small talk as we ate. I asked more about Angela and PJ asked about everyone around Cap's Place. The check arrived and PJ insisted on buying. I told her I would focus on building the timeline, as I recall it, in the next couple of days, and we could get together again. We walked out to the parking lot together and departed in our separate directions. I couldn't help but think that this situation was really taking a toll on PJ. I was determined to help her in any way I could.

  CHAPTER SEVEN