G&K01 - The Last Witness

by KT Roberts

  “See, Gerard, I told you he’d come. Ye of little faith.”

  “Okay, you won.” He cocked his head to the side. “By the way, we still have a little unfinished business to discuss,” he inched the car up a car length.

  “No we don’t. That conversation is over.”

  “Oh no, it’s not. I swear, Jess, I’ll go directly to the lieutenant if you don’t talk to me about it.”

  She gave him the arched brow and glared at him. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “You don’t want to test me, do—” He stopped talking when he saw Tony walk back up the stairs. “See,” he pointed, “he never intended to head downtown after all. Now, who has little faith?”

  Jessie jumped out of the car and darted in between the traffic until she reached Tony. She flipped him around and threw on the cuffs before he even realized what was happening. Shocked, Tony jerked back until she dragged him toward the car and shoved him into the back seat. Onlookers merely shook their heads and continued walking unaffected.

  “What were you thinking, Tony?” she demanded. “I just told Detective Gerard to have more faith in you—that you were going to show up at the precinct just like you promised. You keep this up, you little weasel, and I’ll throw your ass in jail so fast your head will spin. You got that?”

  Tony remained silent, his body shaking.

  “Yeah, Tony, you’re developing a bad track record.” Zach looked at him through the rear view mirror. “So what was that all about?”

  “I ain’t never done that to you before.” Tony’s words came out intermittently. “I’m scared, that’s all.”

  Zach cut the engine when they reached the station house. Jessie grabbed a hold of Tony and shoved him through the opened precinct door. “And that’s just what we want to know, Tony,” she said. “Why you’re scared.” Tony ignored her and continued down the hall. They entered the interrogation room.

  “You giving me a reward?” Tony interrupted when Jessie swung him around and pushed him into the chair.

  Zach gave a hearty chuckle. “You’re scared about someone seeing you, yet you’re asking for a reward?” Zach’s eyebrows rose. “Why? Would you be more forthcoming if we paid you?”

  “Forthcoming?” Tony asked.

  “Yeah. In other words, would money help your memory?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Listen, scumbag,” Jessie said, “Your reward is staying out of the slammer. Let me remind you there’s still those drug charges against you. That is, if you’d rather do your time?”

  “No. No. I was just asking. I can barely feed my eight kids in this economy. I just thought—”

  “Yeah, I know what you thought. You thought you could squeeze a little more out of the department. Well, forget it. You’re not the only one feeling it. We’re all feeling it. Okay, party’s over, down to business. Lenny was living with you and the family. Is that right?” Zach asked.

  “Yes. He was living with us since his wife died.” Tears welled in Tony’s eyes, but he remained speechless, fidgeting nervously in his chair, his feet tapping against the floor.

  Zach hammered at him. “Who killed your friend?”

  “I . . . I . . . I don’t know nuttin’, Gerard.”

  “We think you do. Was it this Sonny guy who owns the place, and maybe Lenny was being too friendly? Asking too many questions?”

  “I ain’t ever seen this Sonny guy.” Tony’s bottom jaw jutted out, a clear indication he was lying.

  Jessie interrupted. “Then why are you so afraid?”

  “Because Vito tells us he’s a badass, and not to mess around with him.” He rubbed the side of his face with his shoulder. “Listen, the only reason Lenny and I agreed to work at the chop shop was for you guys, but Vito’s warnings scared us.”

  “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, if you haven’t ever seen this Sonny guy, 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 you.”

  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, and 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 now that she’d fill him in on the details of the threats she’d been receiving.

  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. “You look rattled, Tony . . . and we think 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.

  9

  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 up on 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, Kensington, 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, Kensington,” 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, Jessie?” 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.”