Corrupted (27 page)

“No yuppies here,” Lou said, with approval.

They approached Eddie's Bar, a small neighborhood tavern with one tiny window stuck into a grimy white stucco wall, and it had a neon sign that flickered Lech's Beer, next to which someone had graffitied Blech's Beer! Old cardboard placards rested on the windowsill: 6 Packs To Go. Credit Cards Not Accepted. Phillies World Series Champions 2008.

Lou eyed the bar, with a growing smile. “This looks like a great dive bar.”

“Is that a thing?”

“Of course, like the Irish Pub. Don't you know that bar?”

“Have we met? I don't spend a lot of time barhopping.”

“How about Doobies? You'd like that place. The owner won't carry Coors because of the seal hunt in Canada. I bet he's a vegetarian, too.”

“Good, I'll say hi at the next vegetarian convention.”

They reached the entrance to Eddie's, and a concrete step to a plain wooden front door, with a handle encircled by grime. Lou pointed up at the transom. “Check it out.”

Bennie looked up to see a white security camera mounted above the door, next to a light. “Duly noted.”

“After you,” Lou said, opening the door.

“Thanks.” Bennie went inside, waiting a moment while her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The bar smelled vaguely like hot dogs, and it was a medium-sized room with a wooden bar on the right, which held two men hunched over beers, facing a TV showing ESPN on low volume. On the left side of the room, behind a red tile divider, was a dining area with wooden tables and a chalkboard menu that showed hamburgers and salads, as well as pierogies, sweet red cabbage, pickle soup, white borscht, and bigos.

Lou took a seat at the bar, and Bennie followed suit, figuring they'd play their approach by ear, the way they always did. She wanted to get any and all versions of what happened last night in the bar, find out what else anybody knew, and best-case scenario, find out what they told the police. Lou must've caught the eye of the bartender, who gave him a high sign that he'd be right over.

Lou turned to Bennie. “Let me do the talking,” he said under his breath. “This guy's my age, but not as handsome. Also I think he's a retired cop.”

“How do you know?”

“I can tell. A lot of my buddies started working in bars when they got off the job. There's beer and tipsy broads. What more do you need?” Lou chuckled at his own joke. “Also for security. Cops know how to spot a knucklehead right off the bat. If you have a cop tending bar, the knuckleheads find other bars to go to.”

“Interesting,” Bennie said, meaning it, as the bartender ambled over. She wouldn't have guessed he was a former cop, because he was short, wide, and had thick glasses that made his brown eyes look even smaller. He wore a blue polo shirt with his jeans and a waist apron.

“What can I get for you folks?” he asked, his gaze shifting from Lou to Bennie, though he barely smiled.

“I'm Lou Jacobs, and my associate is Bennie Rosato. We're here about a fight that happened last night, which led to a murder. Were you here?”

“No, the night guy was. I only work days.” The bartender turned to Bennie, frowning. “You that lawyer?”

“Yes.” Bennie knew it could go either way, if he'd been a cop.

“Way back when, I used to work in the 37th Precinct, and you sued some of the brass.”

Lou interrupted, “Don't be giving my boss a hard time.”

“I wasn't going to,” the bartender said, with a crooked smile. “I never liked them anyway.”

Lou laughed, and Bennie joined him. She knew they had broken the ice, and they would need a good rapport if they were going to learn anything.

The bartender gestured toward the back of the restaurant. “You wanna know how it went down, ask the waitress. Emily, the owner's daughter. She's in the back.”

“I'll go, thanks. Be right back, Lou.” Bennie rose, walked through the dining area, and found a hallway behind. There were restrooms on the left, and past them a young woman stood at an electronic cash register in a nook on the right. She had short brown hair and a soft, pretty face, the contours of her cheeks illuminated from below by the green-and-blue lights on the machine. She turned, as Bennie reached her. “My name is Bennie, and the bartender said I should talk to you. I represent Jason Lefkavick, who was here last night.”

“Oh, sure.” Emily brushed bangs from her forehead, showing pained greenish eyes. “He's such a nice guy! I don't believe he would do something like that.”

“I don't think he did. Can you tell me how you know him?”

“He comes in all the time. He's a regular.”

“Since when?”

“Since the summer, that's when I first met him.”

“Okay.” Bennie made a mental note. That was about six months ago, which was when Jason moved to Philadelphia.

“I remember because we hit it off that first day. He seemed real quiet but I noticed that he had the same tattoo as me.” Emily pulled up the sleeve of her blue sweater and showed Chinese calligraphy on the inside of her forearm. “We thought it was so cool when we got it, now everybody has it.”

“You said he's a regular, but how often does he come in? Once a week or more?”

“No, every night, for dinner.”

“Really,” Bennie said, surprised.

“I like him, and we used to talk. If I weren't married, I'd date him.” Emily smiled, her lips shiny with lip gloss. “He looks tough, but you can see that he isn't, really. He used to talk about his mom. She died when he was little. He talked about his dad, too. Jason's just a nice, quiet guy.”

“What happened last night?”

“Well, it was just really weird. Out of character.”

“How so?”

“Every time he comes in, he has a routine. A lot of regulars are like that. They have their own set table, they order the same thing. He gets pierogies and the soup special, mostly.”

“So he didn't sit at the bar?”

“No he never did. Here, I'll show you.” Emily led Bennie to the dining room, and they stopped at the table on the right against the wall. Emily gestured. “This is where he sits. It's the worst table in the house because it's next to the bathrooms, and sometimes, well, you know, it's smelly.”

“I get it.” Bennie sat in Jason's seat, took out her pad, and set it on the table.

“And you can't see the TV from here, either. The crowd that comes in here, even if they're in the dining room, they want to see TV.”

“Hmm.” Bennie looked over, trying to see the view that Jason would have. The TV was angled away toward the bar patrons, so all he would've seen was the side. He could see the people sitting at the bar, but it wouldn't be that easy to see him from the bar, sitting in the back. The divider was four feet tall, so all that would show of him was the top of his head.

“I don't think he did it. They must have the wrong guy.” Emily sat down, opposite Bennie. “First off, he doesn't even know Richie.”

“Wait, do you know Richie?” Bennie made a note, but didn't show her hand.

“Richie Grusini? Sure. He comes in sometimes, sits at the bar. He comes after work.”

“Do you know where he works?”

“Ackermann Construction in East Falls, I think. It says on his shirt.”

Bennie made a note. “Was he big?”

“Yes, just under six feet, and he had a beer gut. I don't know him. My dad doesn't let me bartend. He likes me to work in the dining room.”

“So how do you know Richie?”

“Everybody knows Richie.” Emily rolled her eyes. “He's the kind of guy that if he's in a room, you know it. He's a loudmouth, especially when he drinks. He's a mean drunk, on top of it. He looks at your chest when he talks to you. He knows more about my bra than I do. I hate that.”

“Me too.” Bennie made a note, mentally filling in some of the blanks, and it wasn't squaring with Jason's story. “Tell me what else you know about Richie, other than where he works.”

“Not much, really nothing.”

“Does he come in alone or with someone?”

“A buddy from work, a tall guy.”

“What's his name, this tall guy?”

“I don't know, but I know he's from work because they both wear the logo sweatshirts. My dad or Sammy, he's our night bartender, would know his name.”

“If I give you my business card, do you think you can ask either of them to give me a call?”

“Yes, if it helps Jason.”

“Great, thanks.” Bennie went into her purse, extracted a business card from her wallet, and passed it across the table. “Was Richie with the tall guy, last night?”

“Yes.”

“What does he look like, besides tall?”

“Tall and skinny, with brown floppy hair parted in the middle.” Emily rolled her eyes again. “Like what dude wears their hair parted in the
middle
?”

“When Richie got thrown out, did the tall guy leave with him? I assume so.”

“I wasn't paying attention to them. It was Jason I was worried about.”

“Now, to get back to Richie, he's not married, is he?”

“God, I hope not. He doesn't wear a ring and sometimes he comes in with a girl, but never the same one.”

“So no girlfriend?”

“I don't think so. There was a redhead, there used to be a blonde, and a brunette before her. He's going through all the fake hair colors.”

“Do you know any of their names?”

“No, my dad or Sammy might. Whatever, they're all the same. Too much makeup, too-tight jeans, you know. He was just the kind of bad boy that those biddies like. Me, I hate that type.”

“Me too.”

Emily smiled. “We should hang out.”

“Do you know if Richie lives with anybody, a roommate?”

“I don't know.”

“Do you know if he has any family around here?” Bennie knew the answer, but she wanted to verify it, given that Emily already had so much misinformation.

“I don't think so. He's not from around here.”

“How do you know that?”

“He doesn't have a Philly accent, like us.”

“Poor guy.”

Emily smiled.

“Okay.” Bennie flipped a page of her pad. “So what happened last night between Richie and Jason?”

“It was the craziest thing, I didn't see it coming. I knew something was bothering Jason, so I asked him, and he told me that it was the anniversary of his father's death.”

Bennie made a note, but didn't interrupt Emily.

“I felt bad for him, because I'm really close to my dad and that would suck if he died. Jason doesn't have either parent, he's, like, an orphan.” Emily paused, blinking. “Anyway, he drank more than usual. Usually he has two beers, then he stops. This time he had three. He didn't get mean, he got quiet. He finished his dinner, and I cleared his place. He always gets black coffee after, so I turned to get his coffee. He always lets it cool. He doesn't like it hot.”

Bennie kept taking notes, letting her talk.

“But when I came back with the coffee, he was already walking toward Richie at the bar. He tapped Richie on the shoulder and said to him, ‘do you know what today is?' And Richie turned around and he looked surprised, then it was like one second later that Richie hauled off and shoved him backwards so hard he fell over.”

Bennie imagined the scene, taking notes.

“I couldn't believe it! We don't get fights in here. This is a neighborhood place, and everybody knows it. Practically everybody at that bar is a regular.”

“Right.”

“So all of a sudden, everybody clears the barstools and people start standing up in the dining room, and Richie gets the better of Jason right away, climbs on top of him and gets him on the floor, and everybody has to pull Richie off. Sammy, he's huge, he used to be a bouncer. My dad would've been here last night, but he's in the hospital for his gallbladder. Anyway, Sammy got Richie off of Jason and threw them both out.”

“Who left the bar first, Richie or Jason?”

“Sammy got Richie out first. I went over to Jason to see if he was okay, and he was. Sammy said he had to go, too, and Jason didn't put up a fight. Sammy escorted him out.”

“Was he angry when he left?”

“No, just kind of stunned and sad.”

“Did he say anything to you that suggested he was going to go after Richie?”

“No, not at all. It took awhile for everybody to settle back down, and I felt terrible for Jason.” Emily shook her head. “He could've been sad about his dad's passing, you know? Or maybe he just got sick of hearing Richie mouth off from the bar. A lot of times when Richie gets loud, we get complaints from the people in the dining room.” Emily hesitated. “God forgive me, I know it's a sin to speak ill, but I can't help it. My dad always says that bars are like people and every bar has an asshole. Richie's ours.”

“Did you tell this to the police?”

“Sure. Did they arrest Jason already?”

“Yes, he's in custody now.”

“Oh no. You know what really gets to me, about last night? Before Jason went over to Richie, he left me this, right beside his beer glass. I didn't even get his check yet.” Emily reached into her jeans pocket, pulled out her wallet, opened it up and showed Bennie a hundred-dollar bill. “Can you believe that?”

“Wow.”

“Right? How nice is that?” Emily folded the wallet back up and slipped it back in her pocket. “It's sweet, right? It's like he knew he was going to get in a fight with Richie and he wanted to make sure that I didn't get stiffed. I told my husband, and he said Jason must've wanted to say good-bye to me, like he had a crush. Either way, it's a sweet thing to do. Jason's a gentleman. He's not the guy who cuts somebody's throat.”

“Right,” Bennie said, though she was thinking it sounded like evidence of premeditation. “Did you tell the police about the hundred-dollar bill?”