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“Damn fucking right,” Tony said. “But I worry about when that man gets out. He’s only in for three years. He’s a real piece of work, and if she doesn’t get rid of him for good, she’ll be the one in the morgue.”

“We can help you with that,” Emmett said. “I’m a cop, and my brother here is a private investigator. Once her divorce is final, the best thing she can do is relocate.”

“I know. But that’s easier said than done,” Tony said.

“We know people who’ve been able to do it successfully.” Emmett shifted his weight. He was tired of standing on the front step of this townhouse. “We’d be happy to help you through the process and put you in touch with those who can help her financially, too.”

“You’d do that? Why? What’s in it for you?”

Emmett tried not to laugh. “I told you. I’m a police officer. It’s my job to protect and serve.”

Tony shook his head. “First, that goes above and beyond the call of duty. And, second, most cops are shady. Sorry. That’s just that truth. I learned that after trying to do the right thing and then having some bitch come in, call me a liar, and look me up and down like I’m some criminal based on the way I look.”

“We believe you,” Emmett said. “And we’d like to hear what you have to say about it.”

“What difference does it make? I read that Robash woman officially closed the case.” Tony folded his arms across his chest.

“She may have, but we’re working on reopening it. We don’t believe that Jeff Allen killed those men. Our working theory is that someone set him up.” Rhett held up the sketch. “This man. We just don’t understand why. Or how Robash is tied to it. We were hoping you could help.”

“Can we come in?” Emmett asked.

“Sure.” Tony stepped aside, pulling the door open wider. “I have a half hour before I need to leave for work.”

“We appreciate the time.” Emmett was a tad surprised by Tony’s taste in décor. For someone who looked like a biker, his house had a very different feel with its coral and teal colors. His cloth sofa was white with an octopus throw pillow on one side and a sea turtle on the other. It reminded Emmett of a little seaside store down in Boca that his mother liked to shop in but that her future husband hated.

“I never understood why the FBI agent decided that what I saw wasn’t helpful. That man—the one in the sketch—he hung out in my bar a lot.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” Rhett asked. “And what was his name? Do you know?”

“He went by Bugsy. When pressed for a real name or a last name, he never gave one. He hasn’t been in my bar in months. And, believe me, I looked for him. He tended to make my patrons uncomfortable.” Tony waved his hand in front of a couple of recliners and a sofa in the family room that opened to the kitchen. “Can I get you gentlemen a drink?”

“No. But thank you,” Emmett said, and Rhett shook his head. “What was it about him that bothered people?”

“His attitude and the way he talked about the shit he did in the military. I served, and we don’t talk about that shit the way he did.” Tony leaned on a stool by the kitchen.

Emmett opted for a seat on the sofa while his brother stood near the coffee table, checking the place out.

“At first, I thought he was a wannabe bullshitter trying to pick up women, but the more he came in, the more I realized he was using my place of business to meet people who wanted to hire him.” Tony scratched the side of his face. “I thought the police were onto him because I saw a couple of undercover cops come in and talk to him, but weeks went by, and nothing happened.”

“How is it that you ended up seeing him near one of the crime scenes?” Rhett asked.

“I followed him,” Tony said matter-of-factly. “It looked like he was casing out the area. Less than two days later, a man was dead. Bugsy was in my bar and laughed when the news came on, discussing the case. He actually thought it was funny. I went to the cops with what I knew and thought they had taken me seriously, but I kept seeing Bugsy coming around. Then a second man was murdered, and that’s when the feds came into the picture. Of course, it was all linked to this Adultery Killercase. The only thing I could think was that maybe Bugsy had an alibi for the murders down in Miami or something. But still, it just all seemed too odd to me. And then to be dismissed…” Tony shrugged. “Maybe Bugsy didn’t kill that man, but he isn’t a good person, either.”

“Do you happen to have any pictures of him? Anything we can use to try to find out who he is?”

“I did, but my bar was vandalized two weeks after that fed told me my intel wasn’t good enough. Someone broke into my safe and took the images I had of him, along with about twenty grand, some of my wife’s jewelry, and a few other random things.” Tony waved his finger. “I told the police I didn’t think the break-in was a coincidence, but nothing was ever done, and they never found out who did it.”

“You believe it was this Bugsy guy?” Emmett asked.

“Or someone connected to him,” Tony said. “However, I do have something that might interest you.” Tony pushed from his stool. “I thought the feds might want to match his handwriting to a note he left for my friend who thought about hiring him. But they believed that man who got shot the other day was their guy, so they basically blew me off.”

“We’d love to take a look at it,” Rhett said.

“I can give you a copy.” Tony hurried across the room. “I’ll also give you my card with my friend’s contact information on the back. She could really use some help and guidance. I’d hate for her to fall back into the same trap when that asshole husband of hers gets out.”

“We’re happy to help.” Emmett pulled out one of his cards from his back pocket. “This has my personal cell. Call anytime.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Tony handed Emmett a copy of the note, along with his friend’s contact information.

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