Wolf in the Big City

Chapter 11 - CCTV

It was approaching about 1 PM when Louis and I rolled up on our bikes to the Rusty Knot. Our lunch sat heavy in our stomachs as we parked and entered the establishment. Quaint place, not a lot of patrons for the hour. It was an afternoon on a weekday, after all. People at work.

Louis scoped out the people in the place while I walked up to the bar and flashed my ID and badge for the bartender.

"Afternoon sir, NYPD. Detectives Anderson and Ortega. We're looking into the death of one of your regular patrons. An 'Edward Prince'. He was murdered about a week ago. Have you seen him around here any time before then?"

The bartender gave his chin a rub as he set down the glass he'd been wiping dry. "No... can't say I have. Then again, we do have, like, three bartenders, including myself. Edward, you said his name was?"

"Yeah, Edward Prince. Would've been in his late sixties, early seventies? Usually came here with a bunch of friends." I nodded as I showed him a picture of Edward. The bartender took the picture and had a good look at it, before handing it back to me.

"Nah man, sorry. Don't remember him. I could give you the names and phone numbers of the other bartenders? Would that help?"

"That'd be great, thanks."

I took a seat at the counter as Louis sidled up next to me. The barkeep excused himself and went to the back to get the numbers of the other guys who worked the bar.

"I've been showin' Ed's picture round the place to the other patrons. Ain't got much from 'em except that some of them have seen our guy around the bar before. Passing glances, stuff like that. Nothing substantial."

"Figures. The bartender knows squat too. 'Least we got the others to interview. Better schedule 'em for tomorrow. Or today, if we got enough time."

The bartender, a short-ish man with short, closely kept brown hair and equally brown eyes came back out and gave me a slip of paper. It had the phone numbers of the other two men who worked the bar, along with their names. He leaned his hands on the counter, his gaze swivelling from me to Louis.

"So, uh, since you're here detectives, can I get you two anything?"

We both shook our heads in unison and smiled.

"No thanks. We're on duty."

The bartender nodded and let us be as we walked out of the bar. I checked my phone as Louis stretched a kink out of his back.

"That was a bust. What now?"

I half shrugged and pored over the list of people we had to interview.

"I guess we'll call up these other fellas, see if we can get 'em for an interview. We need to know about our victim's movements and shit. See if anyone knows about this mystery man the victim knew."

"Well, there's two of 'em. Wanna split up? I take one, you take one?"

"Eh, sounds good. Let's call 'em and get going before we lose any more sunlight."

"Yeah. You go first, I'ma go back in there, see if we can get permission to view CCTV footage. Maybe we'll get lucky or something."

We split up. The other two bartenders were a Hispanic fellow who lived a few blocks away, so Louis went his way. I called the third guy, an Irishman called Ian McDowell. According to him, he lived further away, fifteen minutes southbound along the riverside. I pulled up to his apartment and went upstairs to knock on his door.

He answered after a few seconds; a tall, strapping man with auburn hair peppered with grey, striking blue eyes and a smattering of freckles over his high cheeks. I showed him my badge and ID and he invited me in. He prepared cups of coffee for both of us as I took a seat at his dining counter and laid out a few photos. Ian returned with two steaming mugs and set one in front of me as he picked up a photo of Ed.