“First of all, Tony,” Zach said, “you weren’t doing this for us, you were doing it to keep that fat ass of yours out of jail.”
Jessie intervened. “Tony, you claim you’ve never seen this Sonny guy, so he doesn’t know who you are anyway.”
“Oh yes he does,” Tony shook his head up and down, his eyes wide as saucers. “Vito took our pictures and pinned them on the bulletin board.”
“Look, we’re going to protect you and your family.”
“No one can protect us from him. Vito says he has eyes and ears everywhere.”
“When was the last time you were at the chop shop?” Zach asked.
“Friday.”
“Didn’t you work today?”
“No, Detective. It’s Sunday.”
“And you just decided to hang out with your friends instead of your wife and kids?”
“The wife is cooking, and the kids—well, I don’t know what the kids is doin’.”
“We think you know who killed Lenny.”
“I don’t know nuttin’.” Tony rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. “I’m thirsty. Can I have a drink?”
Detective Kensington reached inside the small refrigerator and handed him a bottle of cold water. “Relax, Tony, no one saw you come into the precinct.” Tony’s eyes blinked like a stuttered dial tone. “What do you know, Tony?”
“Nuttin’. But, I promise, the minute I do know something, I’ll get in touch with ya.”
Zach’s cell phone rang. “I’ll be right there.” He turned to his partner, “Continue without me, Jess.” He brushed past her and inhaled the familiar scent of her body. He couldn’t remember what she’d told him it was the last time he’d asked, but he seemed to recall her saying something about vegetables and fruit. A seriously strange combination, but whatever it was, he loved the clean smell. “It’s the Lieutenant.”
He watched her face form into a panicked expression. He smiled to himself. She was worried he was going to follow through with his threat. Hell, he had no intention of telling the boss, but he had no doubt that from now on she’d be filling him in on the details of any new threats she was receiving. Zach grinned, pleased that his threat worked like a charm.
Lieutenant Harwell gestured him into the viewing room. “I just wanted to let you know Paige and Santori are staked out by the chop shop so we can catch this Sonny guy the next time he checks in on his assets. I guess we’re going to have to provide around-the-clock surveillance to catch the bastard, or do you think Tony’s smart enough to set up the surveillance equipment for us?”
“Are you kidding?” Zach snorted. “We’re lucky if the guy knows his name.” He laughed. “No Lieutenant, he’s not bright enough to pull that off.”
“Hell, my twelve year-old kid knows how to operate the equipment. Okay. Just thought I’d ask. Where’d you find him?”
“He was hanging out with his buddies at Cutter’s Bar. When he saw us, he took off like a shot. We chased him down and he’s been jumpy ever since—like he’s afraid he’s being watched.”
“Did he say anything about the Sonny guy, or Lenny?”
“Nothing of value, just that Vito told them Sonny is a badass. It’s still early in the game. We reminded him of his obligations to us, so we’ll see what he comes up with. If he doesn’t open up, we’ll let his ass sit in jail for a while to see how he likes it.”
“He must be feeling pretty bad about Lenny. He’s the one who recommended him.”
“Yeah,” Zach agreed. “But hey, he’s the one who said Lenny was more aggressive than him. Maybe that was the problem—Lenny was overly aggressive. As for Sonny, Tony claims he’s never seen the guy, but Vito put the fear of God in him about what Sonny’s capable of doing to people who double-cross him. I’m not sure I believe him, but at the moment we have no other choice.” Zach shrugged, “We’ll see what we get out of him today.”
“If he doesn’t give you something soon,” Harwell said, “let him serve his time because he sure as hell isn’t any good to us.”
“Not yet,” Zach scowled. “He insists he doesn’t know anything, but he’s also told us several times he’s afraid to be seen with us.”
“Okay, go see what you can find out,” Harwell said and turned to leave.
Zach returned to the interrogation room and listened to his partner question Tony.
“Tony, look, we’re here to help you.”
“No, you’re not,” he squawked. “You’re gonna get me killed.” He slid a shaky hand over the label on the water bottle.
“Tell us what you know about Lenny’s death.”
“I told you, I don’t know nuttin’.”
“That isn’t what you said before.” Zach snapped, trying to trick Tony.
“I never said nuttin’.” Tony avoided eye contact with him, and focused his eyes on the surface of the table. When his hands began to shake more vigorously, he hid them under the table.
“Why are you so afraid to be seen with us?”
“Cause, you guys . . . well, you like to make things up all the time. You’re just lookin’ for a scapegoat—someone to take the heat off you—so the Lieutenant thinks you’re doin’ your job.”
“Tony,” Zach interrupted. “Have we ever done that to you?”
“Well, I don’t know. Maybe you have.”
“Listen, you and Lenny were our best Confidential Informants, and for that information, you were rewarded, weren’t you?”
“Yeah. I suppose.”
“No suppose, Tony. We saved your ass from going to jail in return for information. You know, one hand washes the other. We got your back covered. So, c’mon, help us out here.” Tony squirmed in his seat. “We can see you’re rattled, Tony . . . and that has to mean you know who killed Lenny, or you saw what happened.”
Tony aggressively shook his head from side to side.
“We think someone came into the shop, Tony, maybe this Sonny guy who owns the chop shop . . . maybe Lenny acted too interested and that’s what got him killed.” Tony’s facial expression gave him away. “How am I doing, Tony?”
“I ain’t got nuttin’ to say.”
“What’s Sonny’s real name, Tony?”
“I don’t know. Vito only calls him Sonny.”
“So you have seen him, then.”
“No. I meant when Vito talks about him. Can I go now?” He stood to leave.
“Not so fast, cowboy.” Jessie said rushing to the door to block his exit. Tony’s hand rested on the doorknob ready to dash. “Tony, don’t make me cuff you again,” she warned. He rubbed his wrists, and grimaced in an apparent attempt to ease the sting. He shoved his hands inside the pockets of his trousers. Zach signaled to her that he’d take over.
“Tony, why are you making this so difficult?” He touched the man’s forearm for contact and edged him back to the table. “We’ve noticed how good you’ve been.” Zach thought he’d try a more positive approach with him to see if it worked.
“Yeah, my old lady, she’s givin’ me a hard time. She says the kids miss me when I’m in jail.” Tony took a long swig of water.
“Okay, Tony, if you want to leave now, you can.” Gerard placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. “You know, you’re our lead CI now that Lenny’s gone, so if you say you don’t have anything to share, then we believe you.”
Zach pulled out a money clip and waved a hundred dollar bill in front of his face. “Of course, if you remember something after you leave here, I’ll give you this.” He could see he’d hit the magic button from the expression on Tony’s face. “It would really help with those eight kids of yours, wouldn’t it?” Tony didn’t respond, but his eyes never moved away from the bill. “Hey,” Zach grinned, “who knows. You might even get lucky with that old lady of yours,” he grinned. “Maybe take her out for a nice evening on the town.”
“The money would help my family, Gerard—but like I said, if I knew something . . . but I don’t have nuttin’ for you. If I happen to hear something through the
grapevine though, I’ll let cha know.”
Jessie opened the door for him, and took a step backward to allow him to exit. The two detectives walked out with him. The nervous tic returned along Tony’s jaw line.
8
Detective Kensington strode down the corridor in search of Bradshaw, a loud clicking sound echoing through the narrow hall as the heels from her shoes hit against the tiled floors.
The door from the men’s locker room opened and she crinkled her nose as a whiff of sweat permeated the air. One of the new cadets, freshly showered, walked past her, his worn gym bag hanging off his shoulder. He nodded, acknowledging her presence.
She returned his nod with a smile and continued her search, stopping to peek into the first interrogation room. Phillip Bradshaw was standing in front of the viewing window listening to the exchange of conversation between a detective and a young man being questioned.
“Hey, Detective,” she said. “What’s going on in there?”
“Santori is questioning a slime bag about a rash of recent burglaries: the same MO for all of them—families out of town on vacation.”
“There’s always some crook out there dreaming up new ways to make a buck,” she said. “Maybe we need to add a message to the community bulletin board as a reminder to residents to notify the force when they’re leaving town.”
“I agree, Jessie. We could send out flyers too. Or cover it at council meetings.” He grinned. “Probably druggies.” He tilted his head to the side. “Did you want me for something?”
“Yes. Since you spent more time with Jane than anyone else, the sketch artist is waiting for you.”
“Did her DNA come back yet?” he asked.
“No. The lab said they’d put a rush on it, but you know how that goes. It could take weeks before we know anything. I checked with the bureau to see if anyone filed a missing person report, but nothing yet. It’s still early, but I was hoping for something . . . anything that would give us a lead. So far nothing.” She sighed. “I guess I’m just being impatient,” she exclaimed.
He gave her a warm smile. “You know, you’re a lot like I was at your age,” his voice sounded determined. “The guys had a hard time with me in those days too, just like they do with you, but that’s their problem, not yours. You make them work harder.” He smirked. “And Kensington,” his facial expression grew more serious. She sensed what he was about to say. “I don’t care if you dated Harwell or not. What you did, or are doing in your personal life, is of no concern to me whatsoever. You’re doing your job and doing it well . . . but, I’ve never said any of this to you, okay?”
“You said something?”
A long strand of hair escaped her barrette. When she felt the tickle brush against the side of her face, she removed the barrette, smoothed her hair back with both hands and clipped the hair together again. “I hear you’re a avid fisherman,” she said changing the subject.
“Yeah,” he said. “I have a lakefront cabin in the Adirondacks. Do you fish, Detective?”
“No. I’m like you. I work too much to enjoy any hobbies.”
She’d always had a soft spot for Bradshaw. He was the perfect father image, a big old teddy bear whose lap a child could crawl upon and know the depth of his love from his affectionate hug. A fleeting thought of her father passed through her mind, and she wondered if he looked the same way as Bradshaw. The only image she could muster up was his face as he walked out the door when she was five years old. She shook off the sentimental feeling and continued her exchange with the detective. “So tomorrow’s your last day. I’ll bet you’re chomping at the bit to bait that hook?”
“Oh, I’ve decided to stick around for a while to lend a hand on your case. I won’t be on the force to work in full capacity, but I’ll be on the sidelines.”
“Why?” An anxious feeling erupted inside her. “We’ll solve the case.” She eyed his expression, and felt sad for him. He’d been depressed for a long time after his wife died, but a noticeable difference had occurred when he’d decided to retire. “Please don’t do that, Phil.” She reached for his arm. “You’ve more than earned a rest after all the years you’ve been on the force.”
His eyes lowered to the floor. “I feel slightly responsible for her disappearance.” He mumbled in a contrite voice. “It’s a loose end I need to help resolve before I leave the city.”
She touched his arm again. “Please don’t take responsibility for Jane Doe’s disappearance, Phil. It could have happened to any one of us.”
“But maybe you can use the help from this old man.” An anxious smile crossed his face. “I know your partner doesn’t like me, Jessie, but I’ll try to stay out of his way and work in the background.”
“Oh, don’t pay any attention to him. He’s always uptight.”
“Are you coming tomorrow night?” He asked.
“To your retirement party?” He nodded. “I wouldn’t miss it.” She watched him walk toward the artist’s office. “Thanks, Phil. I think a sketch of Jane Doe is our first step to finding her.” As he ambled down the corridor, a recap of their conversation about the guys in the precinct gave her a sense of relief. She had been right and Bradshaw had all but confirmed her suspicions about the resentment.
“Have a good night, Jessie,” he said pulling the door open, he stopped and looked at her. “I think you’re pretty cool, you know that?”
“Thanks, Phil. I think you’re pretty cool yourself.” She turned and headed back down the hall to her office. Zach was walking toward her.
“What’s up, Jess?” he asked.
“Bradshaw is meeting with the sketch artist. Let’s hope this helps.”
“Who’s in there?” he pointed to the interrogation room.
“Bradshaw said it’s some hoodlum being questioned about a rash of burglaries. Do you know anything about them?”
“Yeah, I heard one of the guys talking about it in the locker room earlier.” He checked his watch. “It’s almost time to leave. Let’s get out of here and grab a bite to eat.”
“I think I’ll pass. Thanks for the invitation though.” She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a yawn. “Cereal for dinner and curling up with a good book sounds like a win-win to me.”
He arched his brow. “Yeah, but there’s a little matter we need to discuss.” His voice bordered on the side of edgy. “And since it’s too difficult to discuss the matter while we work, a quiet dinner will give you plenty of uninterrupted time.”
He loved watching her when she was unaware. Her animated facial expressions always gave her away. He gave a quick scan of her body, and his heart melted. She looked especially beautiful today in her beige tailored pants suit. The rust background of her flowered blouse complimented her hair and brought out the green in her eyes that sparkled when she smiled. The prospects of being alone with her sent his pulse sailing.
His six foot three frame, a full six inches taller than hers, was imposing to those who didn’t know him. “I’m waiting,” he said tapping his foot.
She released an exasperated sigh. “You’re a freakin’ pain in the ass, you know that?”
The corners of his mouth curled into a wide grin. “So it’s a date then?”
“No. This is not a date bud. It’s to get you off my back.” Her voice was firm.
He was excited she’d agreed and convinced himself, he was well on his way to a relationship with her. “I knew you’d see it my way.”
They walked down the hallway, side by side. She stopped short.
“You know, maybe we should wait for the artist’s sketch, so we can start hanging Jane Doe’s picture around town.”
“Nice try, Jess. No. The beat cops will take care of that. I called the newspaper before I came over here figuring you were going to ask Bradshaw to see the artist.”
“Oh, now you’re reading my mind?”
He gave her a sexy cut-eye glance. “If only that were true.”
They walked outside to hail a cab. As usual, the traf
fic was backed up as far as the eye could see. Impatient drivers leaned on their horns trying to intimidate those ahead to move forward. Zach crinkled his nose when he inhaled the smell of exhaust fumes from the massive line-up of vehicles. She noticed.
“Ooh,” her hand slapped against her chest, “do I have on too much perfume?”
“Not unless the new scent of choice is petroleum.” Sweat dripped down Zach’s face. He reached for the hanky in his back pocket and wiped it.
“Okay, so if I have to do this, where are we having dinner?” The tone of her voice was much lighter now.
“I’m in the mood for a big fat juicy steak, a baked potato with lots of sour cream, and a salad,” he said, salivating when he pictured the image of a steak, the juice running out with each slice of the knife. “Are you okay with that?”
“Sure. It works just fine.”
The sound of shuffled footsteps behind gave her pause. She latched onto Zach’s arm with a firm grip. He watched her shoulders tremble as he glanced her way. “What’s wrong?” He whispered.
“Good job today,” Harwell said on his way past them.
“Ooh. Lieutenant,” Jessie exhaled and stepped back, her hand clutched to her chest. “You startled me.”
“Sorry.” He gave Zach a questionable glance. “Where are you two going?”
“Jessie’s helping me pick out a gift for my brother,” he lied.
“Sounds like a good deal. We guys don’t know much about gift giving. Well, don’t stay up too late, Kensington . . . you need to get some sleep tonight?”
“Yes sir,” she saluted. “I will if you’ll promise not to call me in the wee hours of the morning.”
He shrugged his wide shoulders. “Hey, when duty calls, I call.”
Zach and Harwell both hailed cabs. Seconds later, two taxis pulled up to the curb.
Harwell gave a wave and jumped into the first taxi.
“Oh, man,” she exclaimed, “He’ll be calling one of us into his office tomorrow for a chastising.”
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