"I wondered how long it was going to take for the 5-0 to come knocking on the door."
Nick Carigio was just as slimy and obstinate as Clarence had told him in a stern conversation that included words such as bad temper, arrogance and total disregard for the law. At this point in the game, with sixty-four tragedies to avenge, Steve could care less about boastful egos and was prepared to pry the truth out of the other mans' hair-gel-soaked skull if he had to.
Well aware of the increased scrutiny Mike had bestowed upon him for one reason or another, likely having to do with Lenny's unsolicited advice on life affairs and what they all should or shouldn't be doing, he'd kept a low profile, hoping to convince the Lieutenant to switch his focus to their current investigation and the smoke filled, grungy, run-down bar it had led them to.
Barely over five and a half feet tall, lanky built, Carigio didn't necessarily fit the alpha-male persona he so desperately tried to exude, as he glared at the two San Francisco detectives making their way toward the bar, an eager audience of a couple dozen like-minded guys watching their every move.
"Seems like we came to the right place, if you've been expecting us."
Mike's voice was authoritative, downright unyielding, as he approached the wooden bar covered in hand-carved autographs, and reached for the badge in the breast pocked of his light gray dress coat.
"Lieutenant Michael Stone, San Francisco PD. This is my partner, Inspector Stephen Keller. We'd like to ask you a few questions, please."
With a theatrical eye-roll and matching groan, Carigio glanced over at a few of the patrons, undoubtedly looking for peer support, as he carelessly threw the bar towel over his shoulder.
"And just what would you like to know, Lieutenant?"
"Let's start with how much you know about Hank and Barry's Bar."
Leaning forward to look the other man deep into his eyes, Mike pretended to be oblivious to the silence spreading throughout the bar, disrupted only by the occasional whispers of cowardly men hiding in a group setting.
"I hear it's not the best place to be hanging around at these days."
Carigio's comment drew the chuckles of several of the patrons and Steve glanced around to make sure he glared at every last one of them.
"This must really be some sort of low-life place, if the deaths of sixty-four people can make you joke like that."
Mike's voice was lowered to a mere growl, eyes so fierce they could scare the devil himself. Steve decided to lay back, let the Lieutenant do what he was best at, while he checked out the rest of the questionable establishment.
Many of the walls featured antique guns, as well as pots and pans from the civil war era. Another corner of the small bar area was designated to World War I pictures and memorabilia, such as letters, tank parts and knives.
"Nobody is making fun of anything, Lieutenant. You wanted my thoughts on that faggot bar, that was it. Now, I am sorry these people died, but maybe that'll put a damper on this whole…movement for a bit, letting the rest of the public know what kind of sickos they are. I for once have had it with them."
The harsh words full of ignorance and hate made Steve glare up at the other man, a move duly noted by his partner, who'd kept him in peripheral vision the entire time.
"If you're worried about them stealing your business, I can assure you that their patrons would never even consider spending their money in a hole such as this.", he finally said calmly, enjoying the opportunity to stir the pot, but instantly earning the Lieutenant's disapproving stare.
"Yeah, well I don't want their business, Kid. I just want them out of this neighborhood. Bunch of freaks. It's about time they crawl back into the closet they came from."
"That's Inspector Keller for you, Mister Carigio.", Mike reiterated firmly, and drew in a deep breath, before straightening back out, symbolically towering over the shorter man, "Now, how would you describe your relationship to the owners of Hank and Barry's? Did you ever meet them? Have a conversation?"
"A relationship. Nice choice of words.", the other man mumbled with a chuckle, and shook his head in obvious disgust, "I knew who they were. They knew I didn't want them around here. It's bad for business when you see adult men walk around in high heels and dresses like a bunch of pansies. Their place might be a few blocks south, but they're drawing crowds of weirdos from all over this town right here, filling up our streets, upsetting customers. And the crime rate has gone up too since they moved in."
Even though a wise-guy comment was on his lips, Steve remained quiet, having to admit to the increase in crime by his very own experiences.
"Where were you last night, between 10PM and 11PM, Mister Carigio?"
Mike's stern question caused the other man to laugh hysterically, some of the patrons in the back chiming in like a pack of hyenas.
"You have got to be kidding me, Lieutenant. You honestly think I would go over there and start blowing people away? Let me tell you something, and you better listen well. I spent all of last night right here, serving my customers, a bunch of law-abiding, decent, upstanding and respectful guys. I make my living running this bar and I don't have any extra help, so I work every single day to make ends meet. You can ask any of these guys around you. We're a big family here, and I know that my bar is like a second home to many of my patrons. I am offended that you would as much as consider that I would bother wasting a precious bullet on those freaks down the road."
Unwilling to grace the angry outburst with a response, Mike pulled one of his business cards from the back of the leather case that held his badge, and carelessly tossed it onto the bar.
"This is our phone number. Give us a call if you can think of anything pertaining to this case. Switchboards are open day and night."
With his expression carefully guarded, Mike turned around and ushered Steve toward the exit, as the mumbling in the back rows grew louder, half-drunk patrons cheering for what they perceived was a win against the local police.
The two detectives were halfway to the door, when Carigio cleared his throat once more.
"Hey Kid! You better be careful in that other club. They like your…delicate type around there."
Even if he wanted to turn around to rebut, Mike's fingers digging into the small of his back pushing him out the door wouldn't allow it.