Daniel Annechino - Hypocrisy

“I don’t even know what to think at this point,” T.J. said. “Why would Lentz call the FDA so many times?”

“Let’s see if we can find out.” Dupree punched in the number beginning with area code 301, from where Lentz had received fourteen calls. “If it’s a business number, I would guess that it’s an automated answering system.”

One ring. Two rings.

“You have reached the office of Dominic Gallo, deputy director for the Center for Drug Evaluation and Research. At the tone, please leave a detailed message and a contact telephone number, and I will return the call as soon as I am available—”

Dupree glanced at T.J. and could tell by the dumbfounded look on his face that the voice message had stunned him as much as her.

“Didn’t Dr. Mason tell us that Dominic Gallo was the guy from the FDA working with Dr. Crawford?” T.J. asked.

“Sure was.”

“Are your wheels spinning as fast as mine?” T.J. said.

“Mr. Lentz has been a busy boy and has a lot of explaining to do.”

“If they were up to no good—and it’s obvious they were—why would Gallo be stupid enough to make all these calls from his office phone and leave a trail?”

“Well,” Dupree said, “either he never expected that anyone would connect the dots, or he made a serious technical error. Sometimes smart people do dumb things. If they didn’t, our job would be a lot harder.”

“What’s the plan?” T.J. said “We need to get to Lentz as soon as possible and it can’t wait until morning. Besides that, we were planning to stakeout Cassano’s place tonight.”

“It’s like all hell’s breaking loose at once,” T.J. said.

“Isn’t that how all investigations go?”

T.J. nodded. “Yep.”

Dupree refocused her eyes on the phone records. Running her index finger slowly down the column, she stopped. “This number looks familiar.” She turned the list towards T.J. and pointed. “212-555-1010. I know that number but don’t know why.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” T.J. said.

Before he even finished his sentence, Dupree hit the speaker button and thumbed the number into her cell phone.

“Horizon Cancer Research Center, how may I help you?” Her voice was soft and pleasant.

Dupree and T.J. exchanged looks of bewilderment.

“May I speak with Dr. Mason, please?”

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“Detective Dupree.”

“One moment, please.”

The woman placed Dupree on hold and the room was filled with the sound of classical music. “Bach or Beethoven?” Dupree asked T.J.

“Actually, I’m a rocker. Beatles, Stones, Aerosmith, Zeppelin. I should have been born a boomer.”

“Never would have guessed.”

“Not all blacks are into Flo Rida or P. Diddy.” He smiled and winked. “Some of us actually like white music.”

“Hello, Detective, this is Dr. Mason.”

“Hi, Doctor.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “I’m surprised you’re working this late.”

“Just tackling a few critical issues.”

“How have you been?”

“I’d be much better if you told me you’ve apprehended Dr. Crawford’s killer.”

Dupree didn’t want to share any sensitive information with Mason. At least not at this juncture. “We’ve made some progress but we’re not quite there yet.”

“Well, I hope you make an arrest soon.” He paused. “What can I do for you?”

“I know you have a very demanding schedule, but is there any chance my partner and I can swing by your office and speak to you privately?”

“When?”

“Anytime tomorrow would be fine.”

“Let me bring up my Outlook calendar. Hm. Let me see. Actually, I have a little window of time tomorrow around noon. Would that work for you?”

“That would be perfect.”

“Okay, then, see you tomorrow. Have a great night.”

“You as well, Dr. Mason.” She pushed “END” and dropped the phone in her handbag.

“That was easier than I thought,” Dupree said to T.J.

Dupree stood, nervously tapped her foot, and folded her arms across her chest. “Here’s an idea. Let’s head over to Cassano’s and stake out his place. Hopefully, we’ll find him home, coming or going. On the way there, I’ll call Captain Jensen, fill him in on the situation, and ask him to send a couple of our colleagues to pick up Lentz and bring him to the precinct. We certainly have enough evidence to hold him without charging him. Does that work for you?”

“Sounds like a solid plan.”

“Tomorrow, we can meet with Dr. Mason at noon, and maybe we’ll even find time to pee.”

T.J. gave her a thumbs up.

“You’re going to be bouncing off the windshield in a few minutes,” T.J. warned. “Four shots? Really?”

“That’s how I drink my lattés,” Dupree answered. “Would you rather hear me snoring?”

“Good point.” T.J. took a long swig of his drink. “Who’s the captain sending to pick up Lentz?”

“Wells and Parisi.”

“They must be delighted. Especially Wells. What’s he got, three months before he retires?”

“Something like that,” Dupree said.

She turned onto Webster Avenue and slowed to a crawl. Luckily, she found a parking spot directly across the street from Cassano’s duplex. Dupree noticed a light shining through the front window; drapes slightly opened. While she enjoyed her latté, she focused on the lighted window, looking for any sign of life. “What would you do if you could retire tomorrow and you were healthy and financially secure?” Dupree asked.

“First thing I’d do is go on an African photo-shoot safari. I’ve always wanted to see lions and tigers and elephants in the wild.”

“Why do you have to wait until you’re retired?”

“Probably because I’d want to stay there for at least three or four weeks, and unless I took a special leave of absence, no way could I get that much consecutive time off.”

“Okay,” Dupree said, “You’re retired, healthy, in pretty good financial shape, and you just returned from an extended trip to Africa. Now what?”

T.J.’s face suddenly turned serious. “Well… ever since Haley was…”

He paused, noticeably searching for the right words.

“After Haley… died, I promised myself that someday I’d start a non-profit organization to support rape victims. I tried—a couple of times—but you can’t imagine how complicated it is. The documents, permits, federal and state requirements are overwhelming. It’s amazing how hard you have to work to help people. It’s an undertaking that would be difficult to manage while working full-time. So, my plan is twenty years and out. My pension will be vested by then and hopefully, if I continue packing away a good chunk of money every pay period, I’ll have enough cash to enjoy three squares a day, keep the snow off my head, and still have enough left over to launch my charity.”

Dupree didn’t know what to say. Less than a week ago, T.J. was an obscure man. But now, with his most recent admission, Dupree saw a man with character and nobility.

“So what do you think, Amaris? Am I chasing a pipedream?”

“I think you’re following your heart. And in my opinion, it’s an impressive goal.”

Dupree, her eyes still focused on Cassano’s front window, saw a shadow move. She held up her hand and pointed to Cassano’s home. “There’s someone inside.”

“If we knock on his door it’s going to spook him,” T.J. warned.

“Let’s sit tight for a while. Maybe he’ll step out for a pack of cigarettes or a bottle of hooch.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then you’re going to kick in his front door.”