Maniacal: A Detective Jade Monroe Crime Thriller Book 1 (18 page)

I glanced at Jack. “Do you live in town, Mr. Sentz?”

“Sure do, across the street from the police station on Walnut Street.”

“Your license shows you just opened six months ago. What did you do before that?”

“I was a barber in Atlanta.”

“Why move to Wisconsin? It gets pretty cold here in the winter.”

“Yeah, I’m not too fond of that. My mom and pop are getting pretty old. They have an assisted living apartment on Meadowbrook, and Jimmy watches over them, but he isn’t in the best of health—asthma problems.”

“Okay, thanks for the information, Mr. Sentz.” I handed back the documents. “Welcome to North Bend.”

We walked out with nothing.

“That wasn’t what I was expecting.” I sighed. “At least Johnny wasn’t lying. I don’t think that Dime is our man. He doesn’t look like he could lift a bag of water softener salt over his shoulder, let alone a person.”

“Yeah,” Jack said, “I think we can write him off. Let’s grab a burger, then check on Clayton and Billings. Maybe they’re having some luck at the parks.”

We sat on the patio of a hamburger stand, each of us with a cheeseburger and fries, and watched the traffic drive by.

“So tomorrow is Morris’s funeral. Do you think it’s inappropriate to question people at the luncheon afterward?” I asked as I dipped a fry in the paper cup of ketchup.

“Let’s talk to Lindstrom and Colgate. That might be their intention, or maybe they’ve cleared most everyone already.”

“Yeah, okay, good idea. Let’s hit Settler’s Square after we finish eating.” I made a quick call to Clayton as we ate. “How’s it going on your end?”

“No luck, Sergeant. We’re striking out with everyone, or they’re just not in the mood to talk to us.”

“All right. We’re going to spend an hour or so at Settler’s Square, then go back to the station after that. We’ll regroup later and see what we do or don’t have.”

We drove the five blocks back to the downtown area and parked in a public lot. From there, it was only two blocks across a footbridge over the Milwaukee River that meandered through town and back to Main Street. It was already after two o’clock. Only four people sat in the square, each looking off in different directions, watching people go by.

Old man Lewis sat on a bench across from three young men with skateboards. I approached him and sat down. The others left.

“Hi, Bob, how are you?”

“Okay.”

“Getting enough to eat?”

“Yep, the Lutheran church on Sixth Street offers lunch three times a week for us.”

“That’s nice. Anything new on the streets? Are you staying safe?”

“Got to with that killer out there. That’s what I heard anyway.”

“Been watching TV, have you?” Jack asked.

“Nope, don’t have a TV. That guy told me.”

“What guy is that?” I looked around.

“Him.” Bob pointed to a man walking down the street a few blocks to our north. “He was sitting here earlier talking to all of us. He said to be careful because there’s a killer on the loose.”

“He was warning you?” I asked.

“Yep. Nice guy.”

“Thanks, Bob. Take care.” I motioned to Jack with a nod. “Let’s catch up with that guy and see what he has to say.”

It didn’t take a lot to catch up with the man ahead of us. He looked to be close to seventy.

“Excuse me, sir.”

The man turned around. “Are you talking to me?”

“Yes.” We showed him our badges. “Do you have a minute? We have a few questions for you.”

“Me? What for?”

“Our friend Bob back there”—I pointed to Settler’s Square—“said you talked to him about the news broadcast about our local killer.”

“Sure did. You can never be too careful. That’s why I don’t go out after dark. This is my exercise. I come into town, do my errands, and go for walks during the day. I stop, have a beer, play a little video poker, and go home after that. That’s my life.”

“Where’s home?” I asked.

“East of town about five miles. Just past Eddy’s Tap. You know the place?”

“I’ve heard of it. Can’t say I’ve ever been inside.”

“It’s decent and usually quiet. Strange fella in there Tuesday, though.”

Jack frowned. “Strange, how?”

“Mikey, the bartender, and I were in there alone. I was playing video poker when this fella walked in. Never seen the man before. The local news came on about the murders, and the guy started laughing. Strangest thing. Mikey got mad and said something to him. The guy got up and left. Couldn’t have been in there more than fifteen minutes.”

“Do you remember what this guy looked like?”

“Nah—he had on one of those sweatshirts with the hood pulled up. Just seemed like an odd duck, you know?”

“Could you tell his age or his height?” I asked.

“Sorry, ma’am, I didn’t look at him closely. After the news, I went back to my video poker and didn’t look up again until I heard the front door slam. That’s when I noticed he was gone.”

“Do you know what days Mikey works?”

“Hmm… what’s today?”

“Thursday,” Jack said.

“Yep, he doesn’t work again until Saturday.”

“Would you happen to know Mikey’s last name?”

“Sorry, no.”

“Okay, we’ll need your name and phone number, please.” I pulled my notepad and a pen out of my pocket and flipped to an empty page. He gave me his information. Jack and I handed him our cards and asked him to call either one of us if he remembered anything more about this man.

We headed back to the station. I asked the boss if we could have a group powwow—he agreed. The four of us gathered in Lieutenant Clark’s office.

“Okay, let’s hear what you guys have. Clayton, Billings, you two took the parks, right?”

“That’s right, boss. We talked to, what”—Clayton looked at Billings, his eyebrows raised—“fifteen people?”

“That’s about right.”

“And?” The lieutenant scratched at the stubble on his chin.

“And nothing. Nobody had any leads for us. One guy started talking about somebody that went by the name Dime, but his buddy corrected him.”

“How so?” the lieutenant asked.

“Well, he said he heard of a poker dealer that went by that name. Apparently, this dealer had his fifteen minutes of fame last year. He dealt the winning hand for somebody who won over a million bucks in a poker tournament in Vegas. The winning hand was a royal flush, all diamonds. Anyway, the lead went nowhere. His buddy corrected him and told us the dealer went by the name Diamond, not Dime.”

We groaned. I got up and started the coffeepot on the credenza in the lieutenant’s office.

“Okay, Jade, Jack, any leads?”

“Go ahead,” Jack said.

“We did interview somebody that goes by Dime, but he isn’t our guy. He’s a barber in town, and his dad had been calling him that name since he was a kid. The family surname is Sentz, pronounced like cents. The dad called the brother Nickel.”

I shrugged and listened to more groans. “There is someone I think we should question, though. Apparently, a bartender at Eddy’s Tap on the outskirts of town had a strange patron in there two days ago. This patron laughed when the news segment came on TV about the murders.”

“That’s unusual. So what did the bartender tell you?”

“That’s the problem, sir. We talked to an older guy downtown. He told us about the incident, not the bartender. The old man doesn’t know the bartender’s last name, and he isn’t scheduled to work again until Saturday.”

“Well, whoever is bartending now should know the guy’s last name, right?”

“Yeah, we’re going to call there shortly. The bar doesn’t open until four o’clock.”

“Okay, good work. Jade, make that call at four and find out the guy’s last name and his address. You and Jack pay him a visit.”

“Will do, Lieutenant. I’ll keep you posted.”

We headed back to the bull pen, each with a Styrofoam cup of coffee in our hand. I checked the time, and I had thirty minutes before I would make that call. I wrote myself a list of things that needed to be done. I didn’t know how much time Jack and I would be at the office tomorrow with Morris’s funeral beginning at eleven. We’d check in first, then leave North Bend before ten o’clock. I wanted to follow up with Perry, close out some old cases, and interview some more guys that had been arrested earlier. It sounded as though they were part of the same crew cooking meth east of town.

I poured another cup of coffee and sat at my desk with a clean sheet of paper and a pen in front of me. I made the call to Eddy’s Tap. It wasn’t quite four p.m. yet, but most bartenders arrived before they officially opened for business anyway. I wanted to catch whoever opened the bar during a quiet moment before any customers walked in.

The phone rang seven times. I almost hung up when I heard a voice answer.

“Eddy’s Tap.”

“Hello, I’m Sergeant Jade Monroe with the Washburn County Sheriff’s Department. Here’s my badge number. Write it down, please, since I’m not there to prove my identity to you. I’m wondering if you could spare a minute of your time.”

“Um, yeah, I guess.”

“Who am I speaking with, please?”

“This is Terry, Terry Ferring.”

“Hi, Terry. Are you a bartender there, or the owner of Eddy’s?”

“I’m a part-time bartender.”

“Do you know the bartender Mikey?”

“Yeah, sure I do.”

I looked at Jack and nodded. “That’s great. I’ll need Mikey’s last name and an address if it’s on file there.”

“Sure, give me a minute. I have to check in our personnel file. It’s in the office.”

“No problem, thanks.” I waited for a few minutes, giving my fingernails the once-over again. They looked worse than the last time I gave them the time of day.

“Okay, here we are. His legal name is Michael Cole. He lives at 4905 South Merritt, apartment 203, right in North Bend. Do you want his cell number too?”

“Yes, please.” I wrote everything down. “That should do it. Thanks, Terry. Goodbye.”

“Got what you needed?” Jack asked when I hung up.

“Yep. Let’s hope he answers the phone.” I pressed the buttons on my desk phone and waited.

Jack, Clayton, and Billings were staring. I swiveled my chair around and saw the lieutenant staring at me too through his office window.

I put my hand over the receiver and chuckled. “You guys are going to jinx this. Stop gawking at me.” I sat up straight and faced my desk. Mikey had just answered.

I explained who I was and told him we were investigating the recent murder cases. I asked if Jack and I could stop by. We had a few questions.

“Yeah, that’s fine by me.”

“Thanks, Mikey. We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” I hung up. “Ready, partner?”

“I sure am.” Jack reached in the top drawer of his desk and pulled out his notepad. “Let’s go.”

I told the lieutenant we were heading out.

“Okay, I’m going to stick around until you’re back. Brief me when you get in.”

We climbed into the unmarked black car we had at our disposal. This vehicle was less conspicuous than a cruiser, especially when parking at a large apartment complex.

The drive took only seven minutes. The one thing I always loved about North Bend was the ease of getting around. No matter whether we were going north to south, or east to west, the drive across town never took longer than fifteen minutes at the most.

We pulled into the parking lot and found a guest spot to park in. The complex looked quiet. I figured most residents were still at work. We walked to the main entrance and entered the vestibule. On the right wall were door buzzers for each apartment, and I pressed the button for apartment 203. The name Mike Cole was written under the plastic plate next to the button.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Mike, it’s Sergeant Monroe.”

“Okay, come upstairs and turn right. I’m the third door on the left.”

“Thank you.”

He buzzed us through.

When I knocked on the door, he invited us in. I introduced Jack, and they shook hands.

“Please, have a seat,” Mikey said, pointing to the kitchen table.

“Thank you. Would you prefer to be called Mike or Mikey?” I asked as we sat down.

“I guess since this is official business, Mike sounds better. What can I do for you?”

I couldn’t help staring at Mike’s mustache when I talked to him. “This shouldn’t take long. We were told by”—I checked my notes—“Mr. Abe Livingston that you had an odd patron in the bar on Tuesday.”

He stared blankly at me. “I guess I need a little more than that. There are a few odd people that come and go.”

“Sure, I understand. Abe said the man sat at the bar, wearing a hoodie, and chuckled at the news segment about the murders.”

“Ah—yeah, I remember that guy now. What a nut job. Who would laugh at something that horrible, especially when it happens in your own neck of the woods? You know what I mean?”

Jack nodded. “Yes, we do. What can you tell us about him, Mike?”

“Not a lot. I’ve never seen him before. He was only in the bar for a short while, like he was killing time.”

“What about his physical appearance? You know, height, weight, hair color, build?”

“Well, he sat for most of the time. He wore a hoodie and green-tinted glasses. I remember his shirt was nicer, you know, decent. That’s why the hoodie seemed odd. That’s normally what you’d see a twenty-year-old wear. With the hood pulled up, I mean. This guy looked older. He was kind of stocky, oh, and that’s right, he asked for a weird brand of beer. Something I’ve never heard of. Eddy’s is a plain bar, nothing fancy.”

I sat upright, my elbows resting on the tabletop. I was interested. “Would you happen to remember the beer’s name?”

“Nah—like I said, I’d never heard of it. He did ask for a second choice, though.”

“Which was?”

“A Guinness, but we don’t carry that brand either. He settled on a can of Bud Light with a glass. Funny how most bartenders remember the drinks more than they remember the customer. After I said something to him about laughing at the news, he threw a five on the bar and walked out. That’s all I can tell you. Sorry I’m not much help.”

“To be honest, your help is the most we’ve gotten so far. You didn’t catch a glimpse of what he was driving, did you?”