William Bernhardt - Hate Crime

The three officers took a booth near the front of Remote Control, shouting at one another to be audible over the very loud, very live band. “I can barely hear myself think in here,” Swift complained. “Why do these places always play their music so thumpingly loud?”

Baxter held up a finger. “Music hath charms to soothe the savage beast.”

Mike smiled. “Breast.”

“Excuse me?”

“Breast.”

“Morelli, I think you need to pry your eyes away from that video monitor.”

“It’s breast , Baxter.”

“I mean, God knows I’ve seen how you sneak a look when you think I can’t see, but it’s totally inappropriate for-”

Mike was forced to raise his voice. “It’s poetry, Baxter!”

“Is that supposed to be some kind of compliment?”

“You were quoting-misquoting, actually-a line from Congreve. ‘Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast , / To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.’ Not beast. Breast.”

“Oh.” She fell silent for a moment. “So who was this Congreve dude? Some kind of pervert?”

“Yeah,” Mike said, exchanging a look with Swift. “He’s doing eight to ten at Leavenworth.” He gazed around the crowded bar and its wide array of computers and video terminals. “So this is an Ecstacy outlet?”

“That’s what my people tell me,” Swift replied. “This is where they’re getting the stuff. They take it away, then hold their raves somewhere else to keep the heat off this place.”

“And Manny Nowosky was one of the main men.”

“Not according to my informants. He was a low-life punk. That’s why he was on the premises, moving and shaking, making it happen. The big boys would never come near an actual point of delivery.”

“None of which explains what he was doing in Tulsa. Or why he got rubbed out.”

“I could only speculate. Maybe he did something that displeased his masters. Maybe they knew we’d made him. Maybe he knew too much about something that was none of his business.”

Mike pondered the possibilities. He didn’t have nearly enough information to draw any definite conclusions. But some disturbing possibilities were beginning to coalesce in his brain.

“I talked to the owner of this joint, Mario Roma,” Baxter said, joining them at their booth. She pointed at the man back behind the cash register. Mike also recognized the person to whom Mario was speaking. It was Roger Hartnell-ANGER’s regional director and Tony Barovick’s former lover. “He insists that he has nothing to do with the mob. Or drugs.”

“It’s possible the mob is not involved,” Swift said. “I can’t say for sure. His denials certainly don’t prove anything. But more and more of these prestige drug operations are being handled by independents.”

Mike nodded. “Even if there’s no mob connection, how likely is it that the magnitude of drugs you’re talking about could be distributed here without him knowing?”

Swift followed his drift. “I can’t guarantee that the owner is in on it. Or even aware of it. But someone would have to be. There’s no way this thing could grow to this size without the help of someone on the inside.”

“That’s about what I thought. Excuse me, ladies and germs.” Mike slid out of the booth, crossed to the bar and introduced himself to Shelly Chimka, the perky auburn-haired woman who was on duty. She was wiping down the bar, a little awkwardly. Mike suspected she was right-handed, but since her right arm was in a sling, she had to make do with her left.

“Major Morelli,” she replied. “Are you here to see my shining face? Or are you hoping for a little video romance?”

“My idea of video romance is a six-pack of beer and a rerun of Xena: Warrior Princess . Can I talk to you?”

She put down her rag, suddenly serious. “I suppose. What about?”

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings, but I have it on good authority that drugs are being distributed here. Big time.”

“I haven’t seen any of it.”

“I believe you. You’re stuck behind the bar. You don’t get out into the secluded caverns. How easy would it be to arrange a sale here, with all the video gizmos? Everyone would think you were just lining up a rendezvous, and they’d be right-except the purpose of the rendezvous wouldn’t be romance.”

Shelly seemed disturbed and more than a little frightened. “Listen to me, Major-you gotta believe me. I am not involved in drugs. Not in any way, shape, or form.”

“Okay.” Mike whipped out the computer-generated photo. “And what about Manny Nowosky?”

She didn’t have to look at it long. “I’ve seen him around. Quite a bit, actually.”

“Did you know him?”

“No. But I’ve seen him here. Talked to him a few times.”

“What about?”

“Oh, just small talk. Stuff you say to barmaids while you wait for the next round. I don’t recall anything specific.”

“Did he come with anyone?”

She thought for a moment. “No, he wasn’t part of a group, and he never really seemed interested in playing with the gizmos or scoping out the chicks. He came alone.” She passed back the photo. “Haven’t seen him around lately, though.”

Mike glanced at Swift. “There’s a reason for that. Any idea who might’ve been out to get him?”

She stared stonily, as if transfixed by the thought of the horror. “I’m sorry, but I don’t.”

“What about Tony Barovick?”

“Tony? I don’t follow…”

“Did he know Nowosky? Was he involved with drugs?”

“That’s ridiculous. He wouldn’t have had the chance-”

“He was the manager. He was all over the place.”

“Tony was the sweetest man who ever lived. I can’t believe-”

“Did he have any secrets?”

She seemed taken aback. “Secrets?”

“Most people do. Did Tony?”

She hesitated. “He would sometimes lock himself up in his office. Like for hours. He said he was writing in his journal. But sometimes, he wouldn’t be in there alone. He’d take in other guys, guys I didn’t know. Not Roger. It seemed weird. You don’t take in a friend to write in your diary, right? The joke around the office was that… well, you can imagine.”

“So he was up to something. You just don’t know what it was.”

She tilted her head slightly. “I guess.”

“You never answered my question. Did Tony know Manny Nowosky?”

Shelly fell silent.

“Well? Did he?”

Her words came slowly and carefully. “Major, you have to understand. Tony was like a brother to me. He gave me this job. He took care of me.”

“Yeah, and they may have taken care of him.”

Shelly’s eyes widened like balloons. “You don’t think-”

“That stupid frat boy has been saying from the start that he didn’t kill Tony. I know at least one person who actually believes him. Wouldn’t it be a damn thing if he was telling the truth?” Mike leaned across the bar. “One more time, ma’am. Did you ever see Manny and Tony together?”

She licked her lips before answering. “Once.”

“And that was?”

“The last night. The night-” Her eyes fell. “The night Tony was killed.”

“Nowosky was here! What did they talk about?”

“I don’t know. They were arguing about something. That guy-Manny-was mad at Tony.”

“Did they leave together?”

“I don’t think so. I’d already knocked off. But I was told that Tony got a call-I don’t know who from. Then he left.” She paused. “But the girl on duty told me she saw Manny leave just a few moments after he did.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, my God. I never put the two together. I never imagined-”

“Any other criminal types here that night?”