Tommy and I entered the liquor store in what looked to be a less-than-desirable neighborhood, and the name A&M Cut Rate Liquor hinted at such. The cashier and register were secured behind a wall of shatterproof glass immediately to our right as we passed through the doors. A large walk-in beer cooler stood to our left, and shelves of booze and wine were directly in front of us. Racks of chips and jerky filled the spaces at the end of the aisles, and three shelves of gum, candy bars, small packets of antacids, and aspirin stood just below and outside the glassed-in checkout counter. Cigarettes, cigars, tins of chew, and small bottles of booze sat on shelves on the cashier’s side of the glass. I mentally calculated how many customers were inside as they stared our way.
I pulled out my badge and took note of the cameras as I walked to the cashier. Tommy kept his eye on everything else.
“I’m Detective McCord”—I pointed my thumb over my shoulder—“and this is Sanders. Are you the owner of this fine establishment?”
The man snickered. “I am. So, what do you want?”
“We need to see your security footage from three days ago.”
The cashier grumbled as his eyes darted from customer to customer. “The cameras don’t work.”
I looked at each camera. “Those flashing lights tell me otherwise. Of course, we can subpoena all the footage you have for the date in question, but looking at some of these code violations means we’d have to shut you down until that subpoena comes in.” I pointed at the beer cooler with half the lights burned out and held up an expired candy bar. The dead mouse lying in the trap near the front door looked as though it had been there for days.
He huffed, clearly irritated by our presence. “What day, what time, what camera?”
I pointed at the camera on the far wall, which faced the cashier, and the one behind the glass, which faced the customer. “Both of these.” I pulled the phone from my pocket and opened the picture of the receipt. “Looks like we need Wednesday at ten after four. That would be p.m.”
“Obviously, but as you can see, I have customers and can’t leave the counter.”
Tommy ushered out the people who were loitering.
“Hey! You can’t do that. Those are paying customers.”
“Right. Other than what they just dropped in their pockets, I didn’t see one person at the counter with their wallet out. Consider that our favor to you, and the sooner you show us the footage, the sooner you can get back to giving away your merchandise.”
Tommy turned the dead bolt on the front door, spun the sign to the Closed side, and joined me. I jerked my chin toward the back of the liquor store. “Let’s go.”
A small room at the rear of the building contained the security system. Dark warped paneling, likely from the seventies, covered the walls, and a hint of mildew filled the space. I chalked up the rippled paneling to high summer humidity and a lack of air-conditioning.
The owner, a Darryl Moss, took a seat on the cracked vinyl roller chair and scooted close to the desk. With a jiggle of the mouse, he woke up the computer, tapped the thumbnail for the security system, and opened the software.
“What day and time again?”
Tommy shook his head while glancing at me. “Ten after four on Wednesday. The customer bought two tall boy beers, a pint of whiskey, and a tin of chew.”
I watched the lower right side of the monitor as Darryl inched the footage forward.
“There it is,” I said. “Those two men at the counter that are actually paying for something.”
Darryl sneered at us. “Yeah, I see them. Booze, beer, and chew. There are your guys. Anything else?”
Tommy sneered back at him. “Yeah, who are they?”
Darryl shrugged.
“Not good enough, old man. You know everyone that steps foot in your door, whether you like them or not. They run the neighborhood, not you.”
“Reason to keep my mouth shut.”
I leaned over Darryl’s shoulder and stared him in the face. “Or reason to go to jail for stalling our investigation. Which is it going to be?”
“Fine. Bryce James is the guy who paid, and the other is Kenyon Wright.”
“We’re going to need that footage. Send it to my email now. I want to make sure you do it.” I watched as Darryl composed an email to the address I gave him, attached the video, and hit Send.
“There, are we done now?”
“Sure thing, Boss, and now you can open your store for business again. Just a word of advice before we leave.”
“Yeah, what?”
“Keep your eye on those aisle mirrors. I guarantee you’ll see a lot of five-finger discounts going on.” I handed my card to Darryl. “In case you ever need us.” With that comment, I jerked my head toward the door. I looked over my shoulder before Tommy and I walked out, and Darryl tore my card in half and threw it away.
I made the call to Lutz as Tommy drove to the Englewood scene. “Boss, I have you on Speakerphone. Tommy and I just went to the liquor store where that receipt found on the rooftop came from, and now we’re heading back to our group. We need backgrounds pulled on a Bryce James and a Kenyon Wright. I’m guessing they both have priors, and I’m pretty sure if there’s prints on that liquor store receipt, they’ll belong to Bryce James.”
“How soon before Brian and Justin are done there?”
“Don’t know. We haven’t arrived yet.”
“Okay, get them back here with that receipt. I want prints run on it immediately, and if need be, those two will be picked up for questioning today.”
“Got it. Anything from the Michigan Avenue scene?”
“Only that Mike and Danny are back in the lab with the shell casings. The firing pin marks matched the one found at the first scene, so we know they were shot from the same rifle. No prints, though.”
“Nothing as far as video from across the street catching any muzzle shots?”
“Nope, that was a dead end. Some of those buildings don’t even have windows facing Michigan Avenue. Store names take up a lot of that prime real estate. We still have plenty of people working the tip line calls though.”
I was about to hang up when I remembered to ask about the bartender, Adam Coceck. “What’s up with the sketch artist and Adam’s memory of the customer from the lunch hour yesterday?”
“It should hit my in-box sometime today.”
“Good enough. We’re back at the scene, and I’ll go tell the forensic techs to head in. That receipt needs to be checked for prints now. Everything else can wait.”
“Jesse, if there are prints that match, I want you and Tommy to haul in those two characters.”
“Will do.” I clicked off the call and turned to Tommy. “Just drop me off at the laundromat. I’ll walk back after I talk to Brian and Justin.” Tommy pulled to the curb, and I climbed out. “Go ahead and touch base with the guys. I’ll only be a few minutes.”