Daniel Annechino - Hypocrisy

Amazing, Dupree thought. They were going to arrest this smart-ass, charge him with two counts of murder, and he didn’t seem the least bit concerned. She remembered what Tesler had said about Cassano’s twisted sense of humor. “Get on your knees and place your hands on the back of your head.”

Cassano, without arguing or making another wisecrack, fell to his knees and planted his hands as instructed.

“We noticed your suitcases,” Dupree said. “Taking an extended vacation?”

“No place in particular. Just thought I’d fire up the old RV and drive to California. I hear there’s still a gold rush there.”

“You’re a real fucking comedian,” T.J. almost yelled. “Well here’s something that might wipe that smug look off your face. You’re under arrest for the murders of Dr. Lauren Crawford and Ivan Tesler. You have the right to—”

“Save the speech,” Cassano said. “I ain’t saying anything more till I talk to a lawyer.”

Holding her pistol aimed squarely at Cassano’s chest, Dupree moved closer to the big man. She stepped behind him, cuffed him, and snatched the envelope. She pulled out the contents and waved it in his face.

“Well, what have we here?” Dupree said. “A one-way airline ticket to Rome, Italy. And it’s first class.”

“So,” T.J. said, “guess you’re not driving to California for the gold rush, huh?”

“I was just screwing with you,” Cassano said.

“No shit,” T.J. responded. “Got family in Rome or are you just looking for asylum?”

“Like I said, I’ve got nothing more to say without a lawyer present.”

“Get up,” Dupree ordered, clutching his arm and pulling him upward. It felt as if she were trying to lift a sumo wrestler. Cassano easily weighed two-fifty. Dupree, still standing slightly behind Cassano, noticed the figure eight birthmark on the back of his neck.

“Let’s take a ride, Oscar,” Dupree said.

When Dupree entered the precinct at six-forty-five the next morning, drinking her morning pick-me-up, she did a classic double-take when she saw T.J.

He looked up and smiled.

“What did you do, sleep here last night?” Dupree said.

“Just trying to mend my ways.”

“Well, I’m certainly impressed.” Dupree checked out the wall clock. “So, what do you say we have some fun with Mr. Lentz?”

“Nothing would please me more.”

T.J. and Dupree walked down the long corridor towards lockup. There were four jail cells in the 40 thprecinct, only two were currently occupied—one for Lentz and the other for Cassano.

“I still don’t get it,” T.J. whispered. “Why would you lock up Cassano and Lentz in adjoining cells? We haven’t questioned Cassano yet, so if they are in cahoots, which seems obvious, this would give the two of them the opportunity to corroborate their stories.”

“Under normal circumstances, I would agree with you. But I have a strong feeling that this strategy is going to work in our favor.”

As they moved closer to lockup, Dupree noticed that the two suspects were deep in conversation. By the harsh tone in their voices, Dupree sensed that it wasn’t merely a chat between two strangers. It sounded more like a serious disagreement. She could tell by their body language that neither Cassano nor Lentz had spotted T.J. or her. She yanked on T.J.’s arm, who was one step ahead of her. When he looked back, ready to speak, she shushed him.

They listened carefully, but could not make out what they were talking about. Figuring that they couldn’t get close enough to the suspects to hear their conversation before being spotted, Dupree and T.J. moved toward the cells.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” T.J. said. “Birds of a feather do flock together, hey?”

“Where’s my lawyer?” Cassano barked.

“Relax. The public defender should be here in a couple hours.”

“A couple hours ?”

“Don’t sweat it,” Dupree said, “you’ll still be here when he arrives.”

“You’re really funny, Detective. You know that?”

“What,” Dupree said. “Suddenly you’ve lost your sense of humor?”

Dupree waved to the on-duty policeman. “Would you unlock number two, please?” She looked at Cassano. “You don’t mind if we have a little chat with your pal, do you?”

Cassano didn’t utter a sound.

The policeman promptly unlocked the cell and Lentz stepped out. First, T.J. cuffed Lentz, then, the two detectives led him to interview room 3.

“Aren’t you going to ask me if it’s okay for you to record this conversation?” Lentz asked.

“What makes you think this is going to be a conversation?” Dupree said. “Consider this more of a fight for your life.”

Lentz folded his arms defiantly. “Let’s get this over with so I can get the hell out of here.”

“I wouldn’t make any plans for the next twenty years,” Dupree said.

“Unless, of course, you cut the bullshit and tell us the truth.”

Noticeably distressed, Lentz said, “You guys just don’t stop harassing innocent people, do you?”

“Actually,” T.J. said. “We get a real kick out of it.”

“I have nothing more to say. You two know what I know.”

Dupree glanced over at T.J. and he nodded ever so slightly, signaling her to hit him hard.

“Who’s Dominic Gallo?” Dupree asked.

Lentz tugged on his collar and cleared his throat several times. His eyes were opened wide. Almost spooky. “He’s… my step-father.”

Dupree didn’t see that coming. “Really? You two must be really close.”

“We are,” Lentz answered.

“So close that in a thirty day period, he called you fourteen times and you called him twenty-three times,” T.J. said. “Now that’s a close relationship.”

“So is there a law that limits the number of times family members can speak to one another?”

“Not at all,” Dupree said. “But there is a law that prohibits conspiracy to commit murder.”

“You two are real cute,” Lentz said, his voice edged with contempt. “Do either of you two jokers have even a shred of proof that I’ve committed any crimes?”

T.J. ignored his question. “How long has your step-father worked for the FDA?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Tell us about your relationship with Dr. Mason from Horizon Cancer Research,” T.J. said.

Bombarding him with questions kept him off balance.

“I don’t have a relationship with Dr. Mason.”

“But you know him?” T.J. asked.

“Casually.”

Dupree stood and glared at Lentz. “Let’s review a few facts and see if it jogs your memory.”

Lentz nervously yanked on his shirt collar.

“On July 1 styou deposited one-hundred-fifty thousand dollars in a savings account,”

Dupree said. “And your ex-girlfriend was about to make a major announcement to the press concerning her cancer research and an application she had prepared for the FDA. Your step-father, coincidentally, happens to work for the FDA. And you spoke to him thirty-seven times just before Dr. Crawford was murdered.”

Lentz laughed out loud. “You two have been watching way too many CSI reruns. What do you think, just because you introduce a few meaningless facts that I’m going to cave in and admit to anything? If that’s all you got, I’m out of here.”

Lentz was correct: they really didn’t have any compelling evidence, but during the entire interrogation, Dupree had been studying Lentz’s eyes very carefully and she didn’t like what she saw. She believed in the adage, “The eyes are the windows to the soul.” Lentz’s eyes contradicted his words. During her many years of interviews and interrogations, Dupree had learned to examine the eyes of many a suspect. She couldn’t quite explain it, but each of them who had lied shared a certain look, a common characteristic. It was time for her to act on her instincts. Dupree inched closer to Lentz, her face just inches away from him, her eyes searching his.