Silent Victim - C. E. Lawrence [109]
“We have—or rather, had—a mutual friend.”
“I’m very sorry about your friend’s death,” Chuck said. “I wonder if we could get to the case at hand?”
“By all means,” Diesel replied, sitting in one of the scarred captain’s chairs opposite Chuck’s desk.
Chuck picked up a memo from his desk and glanced at it. “It says here that you were the bartender at the Jack Hammer the night Detective Krieger went there.”
“That is correct.”
“And so you wanted to come here to tell us what what you saw.”
“Again, correct.”
“Wait a minute,” Butts interrupted. “How did you know she—”
Lee started to speak, but Diesel held up a hand. “I understand your concern, Detective. Her disappearance has not yet been made public.” “Yeah,” Butts said. “So how did you—” “You have sources, do you not, Detective?” “Of course.”
“Is it fair to say that some of them are not always on the straight and narrow?”
“Well, ‘course. I mean, you can’t always choose who you get information from, as long as the source is tellin’ the truth.”
Diesel gave a single nod of his majestic head.
“Let’s just say that I too have ‘sources,’ and they are not always the most savory of characters.”
Lee stared at him. Diesel was full of surprises. For one thing, Lee had no idea that he was a bartender at the Jack Hammer; Diesel had told him less than a week ago that he and Rhino were working as hospital orderlies. He decided not to mention any of this, but wait and see where the conversation led.
Butts too was looking at him, though it was more of a glare. He was looking less than enchanted by the evasive response. Lee knew the little detective hated witnesses who hid anything, and Butts was already beginning to show signs of irritation. The corner of his left eye was twitching, and he was tearing at a loose fingernail with his teeth.
“Okay, okay,” Chuck intervened. “Can you swear to us that you aren’t hiding anything that might have a bearing on solving this case?”
Diesel replied without hesitation. “On my mother’s grave, if you wish.”
Butts opened his mouth to say something, but Chuck cut him off.
“That won’t be necessary, Mr.—Diesel. Just tell us what you saw that night, if you would.”
Diesel cleared his throat and intertwined his muscular fingers, leaning forward in his chair, his powerful shoulders straining against the material of his shirt.
“It was approximately nine o’clock when Detective Krieger showed up at the bar.”
“Did you know who she was?” Chuck asked.
“No, but I knew she wasn’t a transvestite.”
Chuck frowned. “Really? How?”
“Her Adam’s apple was too small. It was possible she was a post-op transsexual, but I was pretty sure she wasn’t.” “Because—?”
“Her hands. The surgeons do remarkable things these days, but they can’t change the size of a man’s hands. She had the hands of a woman.”
Chuck leaned back on the edge of his desk and crossed his arms, his face impassive, but Lee could tell he was impressed. Lee was pretty impressed himself. Diesel’s composure and sangfroid made him an ideal witness—in fact, Lee thought, he’d make a damn good cop. He glanced at Butts, who was still frowning, chewing on his index finger as though it were his next meal.
“So you noticed her when she came in?” Chuck prompted.
Diesel smiled. “It was hard not to notice her. Apart from the fact that she was a good-looking woman, she was dressed to attract attention.”
He went on to describe the outfit she was wearing in such detail that Lee wondered if Diesel knew more than he was letting on.
“I also knew she was a cop,” he added.
Butts frowned. “Really? How’s that?”
“My father was in the force. When you grow up around cops, you can spot them a mile away.”
“'Zat so?” Butts said, crossing his arms. “What precinct was he?”
“The Ninth,” Diesel answered without blinking. “Back when it was rough.”
“Okay,” Chuck interrupted. “So did Detective Krieger have admirers?”
“She did.” He went on to describe the entire scene with Matt and Violet, giving every detail of the encounter, including introducing himself to