Quick Be Jack: A Jack Nolan Novel (The Cap's Place Series Book 3)

by Robert Tarrant

  "Think it's the case? Maybe it's something else?"

  PJ sighed before lying, "I don't think it's something else, I'm pretty sure it's the case."

  Blowing across the top of his hot coffee, Tim muttered, "Well, then we better get out there and solve it."

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Wednesday morning I ran a couple of errands and then helped Moe check in and put away a fairly large canned goods order that had just been delivered. The new shelving units Moe had installed last week had added capacity to the store room and Marge was already taking advantage of quantity pricing in purchasing staples. I love it when a plan comes together, even when it's not my plan.

  As I was leaving the kitchen Moe called out, "Thanks for the help Boss. If you're going to be around for awhile, Marge and I have something we want to run by you."

  I replied, "As far as I know, I'm going to be around all day. Of course my days are pretty tightly scheduled, but I think I can work you guys in sometime."

  Moe said, "Okay Boss. I'll see what Marge is doing and we'll all sit down." I've given up breaking Moe of the habit of calling me Boss.

  I took up my usual spot at the end of the bar. I considered the fact that it wasn't noon yet, in deciding whether to have a beer or not, and surprised myself by opting for a cup of coffee. Tending bar, Dana looked at me sideways when I asked her for coffee. She asked, "You feeling okay, Jack?"

  "Feeling fine, need to stay on top of my game, meeting with Moe and Marge and I expect they're going to pitch some scheme, so I need to stay sharp."

  Dana chuckled and then said, "Jack, when have you ever turned down any idea Marge and Moe came up with?"

  "Quit being such a smart ass and just get me a cup of coffee . . . please."

  I took the mug of coffee that Dana brought me and sat down in the corner booth. A couple of minutes later, simultaneously, Marge came from the hall leading back to the office and Moe came from the kitchen. They must have coordinated their entrance by cell phone. Very impressive.

  Moe slid into one side of the booth and Marge into the other. They had me trapped. Marge had a couple of file folders and the building sketches I'd seen yesterday in the office with her. I noticed a subtle dullness to her eyes, not the usual spark. She opened one of the folders and started talking, "Moe said you had a few minutes to talk with us, Jack. We appreciate it. We have a couple of ideas that we think are worth your consideration." Marge was being much more formal than usual. Either a reflection of how she feels physically, or the gravity of the idea they're about to spring on me.

  Marge continued, "I know this is outside your comfort zone, but please hear us out."

  I interrupted, "Hey guys, I always give your ideas the utmost of consideration. In fact, I can't think of a time I ever rejected one of your ideas. Well, except the time Moe proposed we add strippers as entertainment."

  Moe blurted, "I never proposed any such . . ."

  I chuckled aloud, Moe frowned at me, and Marge smiled and said, "Good point Jack. It's just that there is a little larger capital investment required with this idea. Just hear us out, that's all we ask."

  I said, "Seems like a fair request to me. Fire away, I'm all ears."

  Marge handed me a one page report showing our business over the past six months. It showed revenue up, expenses as a proportion of revenue down, and profits up considerably. Obviously, all of the tips I've been giving them about how to run the place are starting to pay off. Sure Jack, you just keep telling yourself that.

  Marge said, "As you know business is up considerably, even when we make seasonal adjustments to the numbers. Part of that is due to the changing clientele. We are starting to see a growing crowd of younger professionals. Not only are they increasing our customer count, but they spend proportionally more than our traditional customer."

  I asked, "I see that, but does the younger crowd bring problems we haven't had in the past? You know the mixture of hormones and alcohol."

  Moe shook his head, "Hasn't been the case yet, Boss. You do raise a good point, but I think if we keep a close tab on things as the crowd changes we'll be fine. If we have a reputation of not tolerating trouble the troublemakers will avoid us."

  I said, "Okay, that's your department Moe, so if you say it's not a problem I'll go with your opinion."

  I detected the slightest hint of approval in Marge's face. I love it when I actually get the opportunity to demonstrate my excellent management skills. She continued, "Moe and I have talked at length about how to best keep the neighborhood bar flavor that Mickey first instituted, but at the same time increase revenue. We think that adding live music can achieve both goals."

  I was surprised, I had expected that they wanted to add on to the building to accommodate more tables, or maybe a larger kitchen, so we could expand the menu, I hadn't expected live music. I leaned back against the back of the booth and reflected on what she was proposing. Moe and Marge waited for me to reply. Finally, I said, "It'll be difficult to keep that neighborhood bar feel with music blaring at everyone."

  Marge replied, "We're not talking about blaring dance music. You're thinking of the nightclubs you go to in South Beach. We're talking about solo artists or small groups that play a more laid-back music than the electronic stuff in the clubs. Maybe small up and coming cover bands. A mixture of music genres. Some country, some jazz, easy listening styles. We'd make certain that the music fit the image of an intimate neighborhood bar, but it would add a dimension that would keep people here spending money later into the evening."

  "I can't argue with your logic and I see you've had some rough sketches prepared, what's your ballpark estimate on what it'll cost us?"

  Moe spoke first, "We don't know, Boss. We didn't want to go much further with the idea if you were going to say no."

  Marge said, "Those sketches are just ideas Moe and I have been kicking around. We did think that we could ask Elena for her thoughts on the whole issue of adding on. That's the kind of work she does, isn't it?"

  Things just got more complex for ol' Jack. I've tried the mixing business and pleasure thing and it hasn't worked out that well for me. I said, "I don't know about that, she just started some big project up in Boca Raton. She'll probably be pretty busy for a while."

  Marge shook her head, "We're not thinking of asking Elena to design the project or anything like that, we just thought she could take a quick look at the building and our ideas and tell us if she thinks they're feasible. If we go to an architect we don't know, they might tell us what we want to hear, not necessarily the best answer."

  I was thinking about what she said when Moe added, "If she's too busy to do it, so be it, but at least we could ask."

  I nodded and said, "Okay, I'll ask her to take a look and give us her thoughts, but I want to wait until I think it's appropriate. When I talked to her on the phone last night she sounded like she's really busy trying to get her project organized. Let me wait until I sense she's not quite so stressed."

  They both nodded and Marge said, "Fair enough. Thanks, Jack."

  I asked, "One question though, have you checked into getting an entertainment license? Will that be a hassle?"

  Marge smiled and opened the second file folder, "Got all of the information right here. I don't see a problem, but we'd certainly want to check with the city before we started spending money on expanding."

  Now I smiled, "I've got to say that you two certainly have this whole thing well in hand. Let's run with the idea and see what shakes out. As soon as I think Elena isn't snowed under, I'll ask her to stop by and talk with us about your ideas."

  Moe grinned and Marge smiled. Marge actually looked more upbeat than she had in some time. Maybe something like this would be a good distraction from whatever health issue she's dealing with.

  After meeting with Marge and Moe, I decided it was close enough to lunch time to have a Landshark. I considered having one at the bar, but didn't want to face the mothering of Dana, so opted to wander upstairs and get one from my
personal stash. Dana is always warm and friendly when offering me a morning beer, but totally parental when setting it down in front of me and reminding me of the damage I was doing to my liver. I guess beer is much harder on your liver if drunk before noon.

  Sitting in the warm sun on the balcony with the cold bottle in my hand seemed like the perfect setting to ponder the ideas Marge and Moe were proposing. It was funny, since business had picked up to the point where we were actually consistently in the black, I hadn't really given much thought to strategies to further increase revenue. I'm not certain I ever gave much thought to the changes that brought us to this point, because it only happened after I deferred management to Marge. As if suddenly brought to me by one of the streaming rays of sunlight warming my face, the thought occurred to me that I'm not really that excited about being a bar owner. Owning the neighborhood bar was Mickey's dream. I inherited the bar and I guess I thought I inherited the dream with it.

  It's not that I don't like the place. What's not to like, I commute one flight of stairs to work each day in, of all places, a bar. Food and drink are readily available. We get the occasional oddball, but for the most part our customers run the gamut of society. Well, most of society, not too many of the power elite frequenting Cap's these days. At least if they are, they're keeping a low profile.

  Of course, the best part about my life are the people who call Cap's Place home. It took me a while, but the people have grown on me and they feel like my family. So, while I'm not enamored with being a bar owner I wouldn't trade places with anyone else at this particular time in my life.

  Still, I know something is missing in my life. At one time I thought I really liked being married. I now think it was more that I liked the idea of being married. The idea that I had settled down and made something of myself. It's not being married that I miss, it's having a relationship of sharing. Sharing hopes, dreams, fears, accomplishments, setbacks, the myriad of emotions and events that make up life. When Katherine and I were together we shared those things. Well, I shared them, obviously she wasn't sharing everything with me. She neglected to mention the affair she was having.

  Maybe the relationship with Elena will grow into something fulfilling, only time will tell. Still, I'm not certain that the lack of a real relationship is entirely what I sense missing. It may be more like a lack of purpose. Once, I would have defined my purpose in life as assisting in maintaining the orderly conduct of society through the practice of law. Now, I don't seem to have a real purpose. I'm just here.

  What I do know is that all of this introspection drained my beer. I came up here to think about the ideas Marge and Moe are proposing so I guess I'll get another beer and try to focus.

  The second beer seemed to be key and I actually thought about the proposal to add entertainment. It had an appeal, not just from the business standpoint, but from the aspect of some type of hazy image I had in my head of the type of bar I would choose to frequent if I had a bar to call home, that wasn't actually my home. Music does add another dimension to the atmosphere of a good bar. At least certain types of music. Some of the noise that's pawned off as music would add nothing but indigestion. Somehow, I don't think Marge and Moe are proposing heavy metal or rap.

  Okay, I'm convinced it's a good idea to add musical entertainment. Now we need to know what this good idea will cost us. That's where Elena comes in. At least in their strategy for exploring the idea. I need to ponder that for a few minutes. I would probably ponder it for another beer, but I haven't had lunch and I can start to feel the two I've already consumed.

  Realizing that I'm just delaying my inevitable decision, I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and hit Elena's number. She didn't pickup, so I left a rambling message saying I knew how busy she was, but I hoped we could pick a time for her to stop by and give me her thoughts on some ideas to build onto our building. I added, that in the alternative she could stop by and spend the night and we could make the world go away for a few hours. A third alternative was that we do both. I told myself that I had called Elena to keep my promise to Marge and Moe, but the truth was more along the lines of me looking for a good excuse to ask her to spend another night. This is a slippery slope you're on, Jack.

  I stood to head back into the apartment just in time to see Justin walking across the parking lot toward the back door. He looked up, saw me on the balcony and called out, "Just the guy I'm looking for, can you come down and help me at the boat for a few minutes?"

  "Ah, sure. What do you need?"

  "I'm checking out the electrical in the fuel system and I can't trip the switches in the cockpit and test the connections at the same time. Shouldn't take long."

  "Be right down."

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  PJ had stopped at a typical South Florida five minute red light when Tim turned in his seat and said, "So when were you going to tell me that someone is investigating me, Partner?" His voice was flat, devoid of emotion.

  PJ stammered, "What . . . what do you mean investigating you?"

  "Just what I said, investigating me. Don't play dumb with me PJ, I found the file folder in your satchel. It contains a bunch of internet research about me and some notes on some type of security protocol. Looks like security at a hotel or something." With each sentence Tim's voice got lower until it was nearly a low growl. "What the hell is going on?"

  PJ suddenly realized she hadn't ever had a chance to look closely at the file Jack had given her. She had glanced at it once, but this morning was the first opportunity she had to really read it closely, and of course, it was already gone. She didn't know if it was readily apparent that it was Jack who was doing the investigating or if the notes identified the Pinnacle as the location the security protocol applied to. Her thoughts were interrupted by a blaring horn behind her, the light had turned green.

  PJ pulled through the intersection and parallel parked on the street. She turned to face Tim, took a deep breath, and said, "Ever since Sissy was attacked at the Pinnacle it has bothered me that the killer found her so quickly. I kept thinking there had to be a leak somewhere. Intentional or unintentional, but a leak nonetheless. I didn't want to raise any eyebrows around the department so I asked Jack Nolan to contact Jeff Spencer and see what he could determine. Jack came away from the Pinnacle with the opinion that the leak was not there. He gave me his notes the other day and I haven't even had time to look at them myself."

  Tim roared, "So if the leak isn't at the Pinnacle, it has to be me?"

  Sadness swept across PJ's face as she said, "I've thought about it a thousand times. I didn't give the room number to anyone except you Tim. What am I supposed to think?"

  As if the sadness was contagious, the anger on Tim's face melted into a look of shame. After drawing a long breath, and a longer pause, he said, "It was me, but I didn't have any choice. I certainly didn't dream any harm would come to Sissy."

  Now PJ felt her own anger raising, "How could you! Sissy could have been killed! Who the hell did you tell Tim?" The answer left her speechless.

  "I told the FBI."

  Shaking her head as if trying to clear cobwebs, PJ exclaimed, "What? You told the FBI? Why? They weren't involved in the case at that time, why would you tell them?"

  Tim looked away and stared down at the floor of the car, "It's a long story, PJ. Goes back to my NYPD days."

  Making no attempt to hide her skepticism PJ said, "I've got nothing but time, so let's hear this long story."

  Tim continued to stare at the floor, "When I was in New York, a federal grand jury indicted a bunch of cops. Had to do with boosting stuff at crime scenes as well as shaking down drug dealers for their cash. I wasn't directly involved, but I knew about it and wasn't totally forthcoming when I was interviewed. I was young and there was a lot of peer pressure. The feds threatened to indict me as an accessory, but they never did. It was a very dark time for me. That's why I left New York and came down here. Obviously, no one down here found out about that whole mess, or I wouldn't have g
otten hired.

  "Years later, when the investigation into corruption down here was going strong, and the feds were digging deep into our department, someone on the FBI task force talked to someone in the Bureau up there and they found my name in an old database. They started really squeezing me for inside information about the department, threatening to expose my past to the brass here. I didn't like the bastards squeezing me, but I wasn't covering for any of the crooks we had in our department either.

  "I didn't really have anything of value to tell them, more corroboration of information they already had, so I was never really pulled into the whole mess. You know how the feds are though, once they get their hooks into you, you're never free again. Every once in a while, out of the blue, I'd get a call asking about someone or something going on in the department. Once again, I think I was just corroboration for things they were hearing elsewhere."

  PJ sat, frozen in her seat, and listened. Now Tim turned in his seat and once again faced her, "The same day we started hearing about threats against a bartender at Cap's Place, and we presumed it was Sissy, I got a call from my FBI handler. He wanted to be kept up to the minute on the whole investigation. He said another agency was requesting and he wanted to know every step we took. I thought it might mean that the threat was somehow tied to some federal investigation. Of course, I couldn't tell you without explaining this whole mess. As we moved to protect Sissy I kept him informed. Right after you called me and told me of her location at the Pinnacle I called him. I thought, that if anything, it would probably help ensure Sissy's safety. I never dreamed it would somehow endanger her. It's the FBI for Christ's sake."

  For the first time PJ spoke, "Who was the other federal agency?"

  Tim shook his head, "I don't know. After the attack on Sissy, I called my handler. I was livid. He told me it was none of my business where the information went and that I better forget I'd ever given the information to him if I wanted to stay employed." Tim paused and then continued, "I sensed that, before I called, he didn't know anything about the attack on Sissy and I think he was afraid to tell me where the information had gone."