CHAPTER FIVE
Frank did his very best to put his protective nature in his back pocket as he and Ava drove into Harlem. Because he’d been a detective within the city for nearly a decade now, he had a decent knowledge of most areas of New York City. To think that Ava knew these Harlem streets more because of life experience than out of necessity was a little startling to him. He wasn’t so sure why it was so hard for him to envision her in a life before her time on the force, a time when she’d frequented clubs like the Candle’s Wick. He supposed it was because when he tried to think of her life before she’d become a detective, she’d been married to Clarence—a man he’d known and respected. And, he knew, a man Ava still missed and loved.
What he’d not been able to tell her last night, and what she’d not allowed him to say before they left the station, was that he wanted her to stay away from Spurlock and Sanderson because he was starting to care too much about her. He didn’t want her sticking her nose into dangerous business because he was starting to fall in love with that nose—and the rest of her as well.
This was yet another emotion he tried to keep stuffed down as he pulled the patrol car to the side of the street. He was just now starting to get used to the ease and convenience of having an automobile at his disposal almost anytime he needed it. They were proving to be a huge benefit to the police and the last he’d heard, there would be one available for each cop and detective on the force within the next year or so.
It was just after ten o’clock when they stepped out of the car. Though clubs like this usually didn’t open until around dinnertime, Frank saw a man moving around inside through the single window along the front wall. He supposed if there had been a murder on his premises the night before, the owner would likely want to arrive as early as possible to catch any looky-loos who might want a peek at a potential crime scene. He’d also likely want to do what he could to get in front of any bad press before it hit the streets.
Frank found the door locked, so he knocked. When a large man opened it and peered out, he eyed them with caution. “Yeah?”
“Detectives Wimbly and Gold,” Frank said. “You mind if we come in and have a word with you about the murder that happened here yesterday?”
The large man opened the door and allowed them inside right away. Frank noted the way the man looked at Ava, as if they had maybe met once upon a time but he could barely recall the meeting.
Ava returned the familiar gaze and said, “You’re Tony, right?”
“Yeah, that’s me. It does seem like I know you. Or have seen you before, at least.”
“I used to be a singer in a few groups,” she said. “I never performed here, but I caught some shows. You and I spoke once or twice as I was rubbing shoulders with the bands.”
“Yeah, I remember that! It’s been a while.” He chuckled and asked, “How did you make such a career change? Canary to detective?”
“Long story.”
Frank walked slowly along the length of the main room as Ava worked her magic. The Candle’s Wick was a small club, with just enough room for maybe ten tables on the floor, facing the stage. The stage was also small; if there were more than four people in a band, they were going to be very cramped.
“Tony,” Ava said, taking a seat at one of the tables, “what can you tell us about yesterday?”
“I can gladly tell you, but you know I already spoke to the cops, right?”
“Yes, that was just for the preliminary report. We’re on the case right now.”
“Oh, I see. Well, I can tell you right now that the fella they’re saying offed that old guy…he didn’t do it. I’ve known Carter Epps for a year or so now and that just isn’t like him. No way in hell did he do it.”
“That’s what we’re trying to determine,” Frank said, figuring he should participate in the conversation in some way, no matter how minor.
“So what exactly did you see, Tony?”
“Not much, really. By the time I got to the door”—he stopped and pointed to the exit door all the way in the back, to the right of the stage—“the rest of the group had already pulled Carter back inside. But even what they said they saw did not look good: Carter, standing sort of shocked over this dead white man.”
“And they didn’t see the actual murder, either?” Frank asked.
“No. We all heard Carter and this other man yelling in the alley but then the other guy—the white guy—stopped all of a sudden. The band went to check it out and that’s when they found Carter standing over the dead man.”
“The dead man was Monty Lincoln,” Frank said. “He was a very successful banker until recently. Any idea why he was out there with Carter?”
“No,” Tony said. “I wasn’t even aware he was here until I heard the commotion out back.”
“And you heard nothing Mr. Lincoln said to Carter?” Ava asked.
“A bit of it, sure. But he was really just calling Carter names and cussing him out. I have no idea why, though. I asked the band afterwards and none of them knew, either.”
“They were the only other ones here when it happened?” Frank asked.
“I had a bouncer here, in the back. He sometimes helps with maintenance stuff, and I had a leaking toilet. “But he never even saw the body.”
“Tony, do you think you could get the band back down here? I’d like to talk to them all at once if that’s possible.”