Daniel Annechino - Hypocrisy

“Where did you get the gun?”

Cassano laughed out loud. “In case you haven’t noticed, Detective, this is New York City. You got the cash, you get the goods. Whatever you want.”

“Give me a name.”

“There is no name. It doesn’t work that way. You put the word out on the street that you’re looking for a piece and the sellers find you.”

“Where is the gun?” T.J. asked.

“Swimming in the East River.”

“What can you tell us about the woman on the telephone?” Dupree asked. “The one who made the deal with you to kill Dr. Crawford. Anything unusual about her voice?”

“If you call a thick southern accent unusual, then I guess she fits the bill.”

Dupree snapped her head toward T.J. and could tell by his wide-eyed look that he was thinking the same thing. “She had a southern accent? Are you sure?”

“That’s what I just said.” Cassano looked noticeably annoyed. “All I listen to is country music. I should know a southern accent when I hear one.”

“What happened to the cell they gave you?” T.J. asked.

“Keeping the gun company at the bottom of the East River.”

“She told you to get rid of it?” T.J. asked.

Cassano nodded. “After my final conversation with the woman that made the payment arrangements, she told me to toss it in the river.”

“Why didn’t you just keep the phone?” Dupree asked.

“I thought about it, but it stopped working. The woman must have cancelled the service or the phone crapped out. No big deal. I never really cared much for cell phones. I don’t understand all the doohickeys. Besides, whoever wanted the doctor killed was paying me a hefty chunk of change. I didn’t really give a rat’s ass about a dumb cell phone.”

“What happened to the computer?”

“She told me to leave it in the locker at the Postal Annex.”

Dupree thought about easing into the next part of the conversation, but this was one of those situations when you hit a suspect square between the eyes.

“Why did you murder Ivan Tesler?”

“Because he was a rat-bastard. A squealer. If he would have kept his big mouth shut, I’d still be walking the streets and he’d be alive. He deserved everything he got.”

Dupree found it hard to believe that even Cassano could be so callous. “So you have no regrets?”

“Yeah, I do. I regret giving him money to keep an eye on the doctor. I offer him a chance to earn a few bucks and he sticks it in my ass. Fuck ’em.”

“One last thing,” Dupree said. “Why did you ransack Dr. Crawford’s apartment? What were you looking for?”

“After I got screwed out of the additional six-fifty the lyin’ bitch owed me, I figured I’d try to make up for my losses. Not that I expected to find a truckload of cash, but hey, maybe I’d stumble upon some diamond jewelry or a stash of money. But I didn’t find shit—only worthless jewelry and a stupid camera.”

“So,” Dupree said, “you obviously never found the fireproof document case hidden under the china cabinet.”

Cassano’s head snapped up. “What document case?”

“The one with fifty-seven thousand dollars in it.”

He laughed. “You’re just screwing with me.”

“Whatever,” Dupree said.

Cassano’s face flushed with blood “I think we’re done.”

“When you gonna talk to the DA?”

“Soon,” Dupree said.

“Today? Tomorrow?”

“Soon,” T.J. echoed.

“How long do I have to stay in that rat-hole cage in the back?”

“Just until we transfer you to the county jail,” T.J. said.

The detectives stood up and each held one of Cassano’s arms. They led him through the door and down the hall to his jail cell.

“Let me know what the DA says,” Cassano requested.

“You’ll be the first,” Dupree said. “Oh, one more thing. We’re going to need a blood sample.”

“Why?”

“Silly question, Mr. Cassano.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Afraid not.”

As soon as Cassano was out of earshot, T.J. said, “Nice touch about the document case.”

“Just wanted to pucker up his ass.”

“You certainly did.”

Dupree and T.J. walked side-by-side toward their desks. They glanced at each other and spoke one word at exactly the same time.

“Hansen?”

Just then, Captain Jensen doubled-stepped it to Dupree’s desk. “We need to talk.”

Rarely had Dupree seen Jensen so wired. He looked like a junkie two days into rehab.

She picked up her purse.

The captain pointed at T.J. “Why don’t you join us, Detective?”

Dupree and T.J. followed Captain Jensen to his office. Once inside, Jensen closed the door. Dupree spotted John Butler sitting in an armchair. By the stern look on Butler’s face, Dupree knew that the captain hadn’t invited them to his office for afternoon tea.

Jensen nodded toward Butler.

“This little powwow is about the second envelope I received, isn’t it?” Dupree asked.

Butler nodded. “There’s bad news and worse news.”

Dupree, nerves frazzled, almost shouted, “Are you going to keep me in suspense or tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“First,” Butler said, “with the exception of the captain, two FedEx employees, and the FedEx driver, there are no viable fingerprints on the envelope. The small envelope inside was filled with ricin.” He hesitated. “There was also a note.”

“And what did it say?” Dupree asked.

Butler looked at Jensen and he nodded. “For extra flavor, sprinkle some of this on your cat stew.”

Dupree could hardly breathe. It felt as if her lungs were filled with concrete. She glanced at T.J. and his cheeks were flushed red. “Isn’t ricin the poison a few politicians received in the mail?”

“That’s exactly what it is,” Butler said. “One of the most toxic substances on Earth.

Inhaling just a few crystals… well, let’s just say that it’s some nasty shit.”

A lull came over the room.

“Where the hell would some nutcase get their hands on ricin?” Dupree asked.

“Ricin is made from castor beans and the process is very complicated. If you Google, ‘How to make ricin’, you’ll find dozens of instructions, but few, if any, would actually work.

“So, it would appear,” Dupree said, “that whoever sent these envelopes not only wants to mess with my head, they also want to kill me.”

“Why don’t I assign two patrolmen to watch your building,” Jensen said. “One to watch the lobby and the other stationed outside your door.”

“I can handle myself, Captain.”

“This is no time for your ego to cloud your thinking, Amaris,” T.J. said.

“I’ll be okay. Really.”

“Well,” Jensen said, “it’s your call. But if you change your mind or feel threatened in any way, don’t be a hero.”

Dupree and T.J. left Jensen’s office and returned to their desks.

“You’re not going to nag me to accept the captain’s offer, right, T.J.?”

“No guarantees. But I’ll do my best to zip my lips.”

“I keep thinking about the cat stew note,” Dupree said, “trying to figure out if anyone associated with the investigation knows I have cats.”

“Didn’t you mention to Hansen that you had two cats the first time we spoke to her?”

“I think you’re right,” Dupree said. “Let me make a call and see if the warrant to search Hansen’s place is ready to go.”

“Boy,” T.J. said, “is there anything Judge Marshall won’t do for you?”

“I’m sure that someday I’ll find out.”

“What’s the plan?” T.J. asked.

“Let’s swing by the court house, pick up the warrant, and head over to Hansen’s.”