CHAPTER
84
ROBIE HELD THE door open for Julie and then climbed into the car after her. He buckled up and looked at Vance.
“Don’t see anything with Elizabeth Van Beuren being helpful. She can’t talk. And she won’t be alive much longer.”
“And what about Siegel? You didn’t say much after you left the bank.”
“He said he spoke to Leo Broome, but over a decade ago. Said he didn’t know Curtis Getty or Jerome Cassidy were in the area. He seems to just be waiting to see if he’ll get cancer too, or lose his job. Unless he’s hiding something really well, I’m not sure how he figures into this either.”
“So that leaves Jerome Cassidy,” said Vance.
“He’s in Arlington, right?”
“What the paper says.”
“Note anything suspicious out here?”
“Not a thing.”
“Let’s go.”
It took over an hour to get to Arlington because traffic was bad, or, in other words, traffic was normal heading toward D.C. It was nearly lunchtime when Robie found a parking space and pulled into it. He turned to Vance. “You sure this is the space?”
She held up the page and he read off it.
All three of them turned to look at the building.
“It’s a bar and grill,” said Julie.
Robie looked upward. “But there seem to be rooms above it. Maybe Cassidy lives in one of them.”
Vance undid her seat belt. “My turn.”
Robie looked across the street and then back at her. The area they were in was congested, like much of Arlington. There were too many homes and businesses with not enough land to put them on. That resulted in tight streets with not much parking, and lots of hidden spots from which they could be watched.
“Let’s all go in on this one,” said Robie.
Vance shook her head. “What about the car? We can’t leave it unattended. I’m not looking to get back in here with a bomb under the chassis.”
“I got this car from a special source. Which means it has special defensive devices.”
“Like what?”
“Like if someone tries to break into it or booby-trap it, it will not be a fun time for them and we will most certainly know about it.”
They all climbed out of the car. Robie’s gaze was shifting in every direction.
“What is it?” asked Vance nervously. “You see something?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean they’re not out there.”
“You didn’t seem this tense at the other places.”
“That’s because this is the last place.”
Vance took a quick breath and nodded. “Right. I see your point.”
The name of the bar was the Texas Hold ’Em Saloon. At ten minutes to noon it already had about twenty people inside. It was decorated in a western theme, heavy on saddles, bridles, cowboy hats and boots, and with murals of horsemen, cattle, and the flat Texas plains. At the far end of the space was an enormous bar that spanned the entire width of the interior. Barstools with faux bull’s horns as seatbacks lined the space in front. Behind the bar a large Texas flag hung on the wall. All around the flag were stacked hundreds of libations designed to wet the whistle, lighten the wallet, and dull the senses.
“Somebody spent a lot of cash on this place,” commented Robie.
A young woman dressed all in black except for her white cowboy hat and white boots and holding a menu approached them.
“Party of three?” she asked.
“Maybe,” said Robie. “We were given this address for a friend of ours. Jerome Cassidy. You know him?”
“Mr. Cassidy is the owner.”
Robie and Vance exchanged a quick glance.
“Is he here?”
“Can I tell him who’s asking?’ said the woman politely.
Vance held out her cred pack. “FBI. Could you take us back to where he is?”
The woman looked uncertain. “Can you let me just check to make sure he’s here?”
“So long as you check while we can see and hear you,” said Robie.
The woman’s polite features vanished. She looked at them nervously. “Is Mr. Cassidy in some sort of trouble? He’s a great boss.”
“We just want to talk to him,” said Robie. “So he is here?”
“Back in his office.”
“Lead the way,” said Robie.
She turned and started off hesitantly. She walked past the bar and down a short hallway and turned right. Passing through a door marked “Authorized Personnel Only,” she continued on. There was another short corridor down here with two doors on either side. She stopped at one marked “Office” and timidly knocked.
They heard noises coming from inside this room.
Robie’s hand ventured toward his gun. Vance saw this movement and mimicked him.
A voice from inside the room called out, “Yeah?”
“Mr. Cassidy? It’s Tina. I have some people here who want to talk to you.”
“Do they have an appointment?”
“No.”
“Then tell them to make one.”
Robie moved past Tina and tried to open the door. It was locked.
“Hey!” Cassidy called out. “What the hell is going on? I said to make an appointment.”
Robie pounded on the door. “Cassidy, it’s the FBI. Open the door. Now!”
Robie heard more noises, shuffling, and a drawer slamming. He moved back and then drilled his right foot against the doorknob. The door flew inward as Tina screamed and jumped back.
Robie and Vance had their guns out. Vance moved Julie to the side. “Stay back,” she ordered.
Robie moved into the room first, with Vance covering him.
Cassidy was standing behind his desk staring at him. He was about Robie’s height, but thinner, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. His hair was longish, gray-and-brown. His face was slender but good-looking, with a few days’ worth of stubble. He had on faded jeans and an untucked white shirt.
As Robie moved forward, Cassidy said, “You want to tell me why you just broke my door and are pointing a gun at me?”
“You want to tell me why you didn’t open it when we asked you to?”
Cassidy glanced at Robie’s gun. Then he stared over at Vance as she moved into the room. “Let me see your creds, right now.”
Robie and Vance held them out.
Cassidy read them carefully and picked up a pen and wrote their names and badge numbers down on the white blotter on his desk. “Just want to get the info right for my lawyers when they sue your ass.”
“You didn’t open the door, Mr. Cassidy,” pointed out Vance.
“I was just fixing to when you broke it open. And I didn’t know if you really were the Feds.”
“Your employee told you that we were FBI.”
“I pay her ten dollars an hour to look cute and seat people. I don’t trust her to know the FBI from a postal worker or some guy looking to rob me.” He eyed Tina through the open doorway. “It’s okay, Tina. Just go back to work.” She hurried off and Cassidy looked at Robie, who had holstered his gun. “And you’re not even FBI. You’re DCIS.”
“You know DCIS?”
“I was in the Army. So what?” He sat down behind his desk, pulled a slender cigar from his shirt pocket, and lit up.
“You can’t smoke in a restaurant or bar in Virginia,” said Vance.
“While it’s true that the good commonwealth of Virginia has seen fit to deprive its citizens of the right to smoke in an establishment like this—even though the health department, which enforces said law, has no real enforcement powers and lots of places still light up to their heart’s content—this is my personal space and it has a special ventilation system, so I can smoke myself into late-stage lung cancer if I want to. Care to sit and watch?”
“We have some questions for you,” said Robie.
“And my lawyers will have no answers to your questions.” He pulled a card from an old-fashioned Rolodex and handed it to Robie. “Their contact info is right on there, Mr. DCIS.”
“You always that quick to call in the legal beagles?” asked Robie.
“I’ve found they’re worth every penny of their outrageous fees.”
“So you have a lot of need for legal services?” asked Vance.
“Ma’am, this is America. If a businessman wants to wipe his ass he better have a lawyer on retainer.”
Robie looked around the office. It was high-dollar decorated. And there was a shelf full of business awards against one wall.
“You look to be pretty successful. Bar must do well.”
“This bar is one of twenty businesses that I own. And all of them are highly profitable, and I don’t have one dime of debt. How many of the Fortune 500 jerk-offs can say that? I’ve even got my own damn plane.”
“Good for you,” said Robie. He put the business card for the law firm down on Cassidy’s desk.
“We’re here to ask you about your old Army squad.”
Cassidy looked genuinely surprised by this. He took the cigar out of his mouth.
“What the hell for?”
“You keep in touch with any of them?”
Cassidy looked past him and saw Julie peering around the corner of the doorway.
Cassidy slowly rose and said, “Come on in here, girl.”
Julie eyed Robie, who nodded. She stepped into the office.
“Closer,” said Cassidy.
Julie drew nearer to the desk.
Cassidy stubbed out his cigar in an ashtray and rubbed his chin. “Damn.”
“What is it?” asked Vance.
“You’re Julie, aren’t you?” said Cassidy.
“I am. But I don’t know you.”
“I knew your parents real well. How they doing?”
Robie said, “How do you know them?”
“Like you said, the squad. Curtis Getty and me served together. Saved my ass a couple times in Gulf One.”
“I didn’t even know my dad was in the Army until just recently,” said Julie.
Cassidy nodded, but didn’t look surprised by this. “He wasn’t much of a talker.”
“How did you know I was Julie? I don’t think we’ve ever met.”
“Because you look just like your mother. Same eyes, same dimple, everything. And we have met. Only you were just a baby. Diapered you a couple of times myself. Probably botched the job. Not great with little kids.”
“So you kept in touch with them?” asked Robie.
“Not for a long time. I haven’t seen them since Julie turned one.”
“What happened?”
Cassidy looked away and shrugged. “Folks get busy. Drift apart.” He eyed Julie. “Your mom doing okay?”
“No, she’s dead.”
“What?” Cassidy said quickly. “What the hell happened?” He put one hand on the desk to steady himself.
Robie said, “She and Curtis were murdered.”
“Murdered!” Cassidy dropped back into his chair. The questions tumbled out. “Why? How? Who did it?”
“We were hoping you could help us answer those questions,” said Robie.
“Me?”
“Yeah, you.”
“Like I said, I haven’t seen the Gettys in a long time.”
“Didn’t you know they lived in D.C.?” asked Robie.
“No. They didn’t use to live around here. They were in Pennsylvania last time I saw them.”
“Pennsylvania?” exclaimed Julie. “I didn’t know that. I thought they were from California.”
“Curtis might’ve been. But when we got back to the States they lived over near Pittsburgh. That was the last time I saw them, you understand. Didn’t know they’d moved down here.”
Vance said, “So you were living in Pennsylvania too back then?”
“Yeah. In fact, I lived with them for a while. Long time ago. Trying to get back on my feet. I actually knew your mom before she met your dad. They got married while he was still in uniform. I was at the wedding.”
Robie glanced at Julie and noted her wide-eyed look at all this new information about her parents.
Cassidy continued. “Anyway, after Gulf One I didn’t do too well. Got into some bad stuff. They helped me out.”
“Drugs?” asked Robie.
“I wasn’t the one into the drugs,” said Cassidy quietly, looking away from Julie.
“I know my parents had drug problems,” said Julie. “Especially my dad.”
“He was a good man, Julie,” said Cassidy. “Like I said, he saved my butt over in the desert. Earned himself the Bronze with valor. A Purple too. When we were in uniform he never touched even a drop of liquor. But after we came back we were all changed. The war wasn’t that long. Not like Nam or WW II. But we saw some serious stuff over there. Lots of deaths, mostly civilians, women, kids. And lots of guys came back messed up or sick. Anyway, your daddy started using. Pot. Coke. Meth. Your mom tried to get him straight, but never really could. And then she fell into that crap too. Hard as hell to get out of that hole once you’re in it.”
“And what was your vice?” Vance asked.
“I was a drunk,” said Cassidy frankly.
“And yet you own a bar?” said Robie.
“Best way to test yourself on a daily basis. I’m surrounded by the best stuff, and I haven’t touched a drop of it in over a decade.”
“Julie’s fourteen. So about thirteen years ago was the last time you saw the Gettys?” asked Vance.
“That’s what I said.”
Robie looked around the spacious office. “The Gettys were pretty down on their luck. Might’ve been good if you’d returned the favor and helped them out.”
Cassidy said, “Would’ve been glad to do it. If I could’ve found them.” He opened his desk drawer and pushed a button located on the inside of it. A portrait of a woman on a horse on the wall behind his desk clicked open, revealing a safe.
He opened the safe, pulled out a stack of letters, and held them up. “Letters I wrote to your parents, Julie, over the years. All returned unopened, addressee unknown. I spent a lot of time and money trying to find you all. Never thought to look in my own backyard.”
He tossed the letters down on his desk and sat back in his chair. “I can’t believe they’re dead,” he said, his voice quavering. He wiped at his eyes and shook his head.
Robie looked at the letters. “Lot of effort went into those.”
“Like I said, they were my friends. Curtis saved my life. They helped me when I needed it.” He looked at Julie. “If your parents are gone, who are you staying with? Who’s taking care of you?”
“Them, for now,” said Julie, indicating Robie and Vance.
“Is she in protective custody or something?” asked Cassidy.
“Or something,” replied Robie.
Cassidy looked at Julie. “I can help you. I would like to help you, just like I wanted to help your parents.”
“We can talk about that later,” said Robie. “Is there nothing else you can tell us about Getty, or the other members of the squad?”
“Like I said, I haven’t kept in touch.”
“Do you remember Gabriel Siegel and Elizabeth Claire?”
“Yeah, I do. How are they doing?”
“Not so great, actually. How about Rick Wind?”
“Yeah, he was a good guy. Fine soldier.”
“He’s dead now too. So is Leo Broome.”
Cassidy stood and slapped his desktop. “All these people from my old squad have been killed?”
“Not all of them. But the mortality rate is higher than we’d like to see,” said Vance dryly.
“Should I be worried?” asked Cassidy.
“I think everyone should be worried,” replied Robie.