First degree - By David Rosenfelt Page 0,27

enforcement, which means we're anti-Petrone, which means we're the enemy. These people have no need or use for the police; all the protection they need lives right in their neighborhood. They would sooner rat out God than Dominic Petrone, and asking them questions only causes them to view us with suspicion.

Of course, there is no chance that the person Oscar came to see was Petrone. Petrone is far too high on the totem pole for that; he would have people who would have people who would have people who would have people to deal with a roach like Oscar. And even they wouldn't be thrilled about it.

Since we don't know which house Oscar came to, and we can't find anybody who remembers seeing him, what we basically do is wander aimlessly about, accomplishing nothing. The investigation is really heating up.

We're about to leave when we see the Food Fair supermarket that Oscar said he had visited. The first thing we do is confirm that a different shift of employees would have been on that night, so there's no chance any of these people would remember him. Laurie will have to come back during the night and cover that base.

We ask to speak to the manager, so that we can see if there are security camera tapes that covered the evening in question. If Oscar was here that night, he could have been part of a taped record.

The manager is on a coffee break, so while we wait, Laurie decides to do a little food shopping. She goes off to get some things, while I walk over to the cash machine so I can at least offer to pay for it. They actually have a small bank branch right there within the supermarket, with three machines for additional service.

I know from a similar situation on another case that our chances of finding anything on the store taping system are slim. Most stores simply run the tapes on a twenty-four- or forty-eight-hour cycle and then tape over them. But it's worth a try, and when the manager, Wally, comes back, we ask him about it. I know his name is Wally, and I know he's the manager, because above the pocket of his shirt it says, "Wally," and just below that it says, "Manager." These are the kinds of tricks I've picked up by accompanying Laurie on these investigations.

"How long do you keep the security tapes after they're used?" I ask.

"You cops?" Wally asks.

His response isn't exactly on point, and he says "cops" in such a way that, if we were in fact cops, he would try to lead us to our demise in the pesticide department. My sense is that somebody got the word to him that we've been snooping around, asking questions.

"No," I say.

"Then what?"

"Then what what?" I counter. This repartee is on a very sophisticated level; I hope Laurie can follow it. A cashier within earshot is yawning; it's obviously over her head.

"What are you?" he demands.

"Tired of this conversation," I answer, just before Laurie sighs loudly and intervenes.

"He's a lawyer and I'm a private investigator. We can get a subpoena and you can spend an entire day being deposed, or you can answer a couple of easy questions and then go back to stacking cans in aisle seven. Your choice."

"Yeah," I say to add emphasis, but I refrain from sticking my tongue out at him.

He's annoyed, but recognizes the futility of resisting a force as powerful as mine. "We run the tapes for twenty-four hours, then tape over them."

I show him a picture of Oscar. "Have you ever seen him?"

"No," he says immediately. He's not giving anything at all. Had I shown him pictures of Michael Jordan, George Bush, and Heather Locklear, his "no" would have been just as quick.

"Do you wish you could be more helpful, because as a good citizen it's important to you that justice be done?" I counter.

Laurie drags me off before he can answer, which is a shame, because I could tell he was just about to crack.

On the way out, I keep in charitable practice by dropping a twenty-dollar bill in the March of Dimes canister, and then Laurie and I go our separate ways. She is going to snoop around Oscar's neighborhood, while I'm going back to my office for a meeting. Laurie doesn't ask for Oscar's address, which means she knows where he lives. This is curious, since I know from the police reports that he's only lived there two