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?”

She thought a moment. “Now that you mention it, there was another guy. The chicken.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, sorry. Chicken. That’s street slang for a hooker. Gigolo. Whatever you want to call them. I mean, I didn’t know for a fact that he was, but that’s what everyone told me.”

“You know his name? Where he lives?”

“Sorry, no. He wasn’t a regular.”

“And he left at the same time as Tony?”

“That’s what they told me. Just a little while after Manny. He’d been watching the door all night. I thought he was waiting for a john. Jane, whatever. But maybe it was something else.”

“Yeah, maybe. Thanks, Shelly. You’ve been a big help.” He slid a card across the bar. “If you see this chicken in here again, I want you to give me a call. Immediately. And don’t let him leave till I get here.”

He returned to the booth where the other officers were still talking.

“What happened?” Swift said, smirking. “Strike out with the coed?”

He shook his head. “No. I struck pay dirt.”

“Does that mean my chances of getting lucky tonight have diminished?”

“No,” he said, staring grimly off into space. “I think maybe for the first time I’m beginning to understand what this case is really about.”

25

When I got a shot at the manager position at Remote Control-except it wasn’t called that then-I jumped at it. I mean, gee-whiz, this was a place even my mother could visit. Not that she would. But she could.

The main adjustment I had to make related to the clientele. The Dahlia had been a drinking bar, with a lot of toughs and all-guy groups, bikers, and general carousers. Remote Control was a singles bar and everyone knew it. That changed everything. It also guaranteed-being so close to the Phillips campus-that it would never be empty. And it wasn’t. But I thought it could do better. Not just that we could make more money, but that we could provide a greater service to the community, by combining my love of gadgets with my love of, well, love.

When I first presented my ideas to Mario, he laughed. “Singles bars don’t provide a service,” he explained. “We’re in the meatpacking business. We help people find someone to help them get through the night. It never lasts. Why should it?”