Last Call: A Murder on the Rocks Mystery

By Cathi Stoler

It's New Year's Day and Jude Dillane, owner of The Corner Lounge, is cleaning up after last night's celebration when she discovers the body of a man with a knife through his heart in the dumpster out back. She recognizes the victim immediately-it's Michael Bevins, younger brother o

• Language: English
• Publisher: Level Best Books
• Release date: Nov 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9781947915954

Cathi Stoler

Cathi Stoler, a native New Yorker, drew on her travels to interesting and exotic places to write two new mystery suspense novels, Nick of Time, and Out of Time, featuring professional Blackjack player, Nick Donahue. Her suspense novels, Bar None, Last Call, Straight Up, and With A Twist, The Murder on the Rocks Mysteries, are set on the Lower East Side of New York City and feature The Corner Lounge owner, Jude Dillane. She is also the author of the three-volume Laurel & Helen New York Mystery series, which includes Telling Lies, Keeping Secrets, and The Hard Way. Stoler is a three-time finalist and the winner of the Derringer for Best Short Story "The Kaluki Kings of Queens." Her Murder on the Rocks novels have been nominated for several awards. She is a board member of Sisters in Crime New York/Tri-State, and a member of Mystery Writers of America and International Thriller Writers. She lives in New York City with her husband. You can find her at www.cathistoler.com.

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Preface

New Year’s Eve

1999

Times Square was packed. Nearly half a million revelers were squeezed in as tight as the cork in a champagne bottle, ringed by barricades in an area forty blocks square. Many had been there since that morning, waiting in the cold for the glittering Waterford Crystal ball to drop.

Security was tight. It was the dawn of a new millennium which brought fears of a Y2K disaster bringing down computers and creating havoc amongst anything electronic.

Over five thousand police officers were on hand to make sure nothing went horribly wrong—although the crowd was well-behaved, many of them wearing oversize glasses and waving banners as they cheered and yelled into the cameras.

No one was having a better time than the four young tourists from Denmark who had arrived in the city the day before. Worming their way through the crowd, the two men and two women pushed in as close as they could to have a close-up view of the ball drop and watch the entertainment, a popular band playing their latest hit.

One member of the group, Lukas Janssen, decided to step away from his friends for a few moments to buy a souvenir for his younger sister. I think she would like one of those T-shirts, he told his girlfriend, Isa Mulder, and pointed to a man a few yards away selling shirts with a millennium logo on the front. At six feet four inches, Lukas stood well above the crowd around him and had no trouble plotting a path to the vendor.

Hurry back, Lukas, Isa told him, giving him a quick hug. The new year will be here in just a few minutes and I’ll want to give you a special kiss. She smiled as he walked away and turned back to her friends, Elias and Sara, who were waving small Danish flags at a TV camera that scanned the merrymakers.

At ten seconds to midnight, the ball began its descent and Lukas was still not back. Isa thought he may have gotten turned around in the mass of people, and gave her attention over to the cheers and chaos that erupted at the stroke of twelve, sure he would join them shortly.

The crowd dispersed soon after, but Lukas was nowhere to be found. His three friends looked up above the sea of people leaving the area, searching for the tall blond man in a red ski jacket. Isa’s eyes widened with worry. I don’t see him. Where did he go? Tears began to spill from her eyes as she fought her way through the remaining crowd, calling his name.

Maybe he stopped for a beer, Elias ventured.

Not without us, Isa told him. He’d never leave us here wondering where he is.

She shook her head. Something has happened to him. I know it.

Three days later, Lukas Janssen’s body was discovered in Tompkins Square Park on the east side of Manhattan. No one knew how or why he wound up there. The young man had been stabbed through the heart and died instantly—the first victim of the person who would become known as the New Year’s Killer.

I

Part One

A guy walks into a bar…

Chapter One

New Year’s Eve

2018

The ball was about to drop, and everyone’s eyes were fixed on the TV over the bar. I guess it had been a good idea to follow my landlord Sully’s advice and lug the flat screen down from my apartment for the night. The Corner Lounge wasn’t the kind of bar where five TVs were tuned to whatever sports games were being played, but being New Year’s Eve, I relented from my prohibition of television in the restaurant, and it seemed to be paying off. I just didn’t want to hear any I told you so’s. from Mr. Smart Mouth.

Three…two…one…Happy New Year! The glittering Swarovski crystal ball ended its descent, and the crowd in Times Square went wild, roaring their good wishes into the faces of the numerous TV cameras that swept the area.

It was a bit more subdued at The Lounge, if only because the number of people present was just slightly fewer than the crowd at the country’s hottest New Year’s Eve venue—although the noise level seemed just as loud as everyone shouted Happy New Year! before kissing the person closest to them and lifting their glasses in a toast.

Dean, my head bartender, and I had been busy popping open champagne bottles and filling flutes for the customers who numbered three deep at the bar. I grabbed three glasses and moved down to where my boyfriend, Eric, and Sully were seated. Handing one to each of them, I leaned over and gave Eric a big kiss on his lips, then planted one on Sully’s cheek. Happy New Year, boys! I clinked my glass against each of theirs. Let’s hope it’s a good one.

Eric gave me another long, lingering kiss and nuzzling my ear, whispered, It will be, Jude. I promise. Then one of his pals from work called out to him and he went off for bro hugs and good wishes with his buddies who’d joined him for the evening.

Sully nodded, knowing there was more to my words than their simple meaning. The last year had been pretty tough on all of us, and it was definitely time to move on to something better.

A good year? I’ll drink to that. Sully downed his champagne in a few gulps then held out the flute for a refill.

Philistine. I shook my head and poured him more of the bubbly. Sip this one.

Hey, Art Bevins, one of my regular customers, called to me, don’t forget us. He pointed to his spot in front of the bar.

I’d never do that. I smiled and handed over a glass to Art and one to the young man with him.

Jude, meet my brother, Michael. Michael, Jude. She owns the place. Art made a loose gesture with his hand that encompassed the dining room and bar. Mikey just got in and we came down to celebrate. I didn’t even give him time to unpack. He’s staying with me over the holiday break. Art was smiling so wide I could practically see his tonsils.

I shook my head at Art and held out my hand to his brother. Nice to meet you, Michael. He was tall, blond, and handsome in a hipster kind of way, scruffy stubble on his face, plaid shirt with a black T-shirt under it, jeans and sneakers—a uniform—just like the black jeans and black turtleneck that I wore to work every day. Art had told me all about his younger brother, who was a senior at the University of Maryland, majoring in medical research.

I think Art’s mentioned you once or twice.

He laughed, assuming his brother spoke about him way too much. You, too. I’ve heard all about you from this guy.

Art hooked an arm around his brother’s shoulders. Or tried to. He was a several inches shorter and a few drinks ahead, and his aim was a little off, his arm landing somewhere around Michael’s shoulder blades. Art’s dark eyes shone with pride and you could see how much he loved his brother. Mikey here is the real brains in the family. A science wiz. Going to find a cure for everything that ails you.

Starting with over-imbibing, no doubt, piped in Tony Napoli, another regular customer and one of the 10th Street Irregulars, as I called them. He was with Oscar Lupe and Jim Deems, two more from the group, who’d come in just after midnight and finally managed to elbow their way to the bar.

I leaned over and gave each of the three men a peck on the cheek. Champagne? I didn’t have to ask twice.

All three nodded like bobbleheads. I placed their drinks in front of them and moved down the bar to see to my other customers as Art introduced Michael around.

A little while later, Michael shrugged into his jacket and leaned over the bar. Nice to meet you, Jude. I’m heading out to another party downtown. He looked over his shoulder at Art and pointed up to the ceiling. Make sure my brother gets home safe, he added before he went back toward the group.

After a while, when I glanced up at the Irregulars, Sully, Art, Oscar, and Tony were laughing at something one of them had said and Mikey was gone.

I didn’t have time to dwell on it. Busy didn’t describe the scene at The Lounge. Hey, not that I was complaining. I was in business to make money. So was my partner, Pete, the chef and soul of the kitchen, who popped out from his station at his huge 8-burner Garland stove to swoop me up for a New Year’s kiss and grab a bottle of champagne for the kitchen staff.

Well, so far—an hour in—things looked good for the year to come. I hoped it would last. But somewhere, deep inside, a little voice said, Good luck with that, Jude.

I ignored it. How I wished I hadn’t.

Chapter Two

The new year was barely five hours old and already it felt like an eternity. I gave last call over an hour ago and hustled out Sully and his crew amidst protests of Aw c’mon, Jude. Just one more for the road.

Fortunately, their road was either upstairs or around the corner and I sent them on their way. Pete had hung up his apron and closed the kitchen hours ago. Eric was upstairs sleeping in my warm and cozy bed where I longed to be snuggled up next to him. I’d sent him home when I found him nodded off at one of the dining room tables, snoring lightly, head resting on his folded arms. All that was missing was the milk and cookies.

Now, I was alone and appreciating the post-celebration quiet. I didn’t like big celebrations or big crowds. Hadn’t since I was a teenager. So of course, I went into the restaurant business where the bigger the party and the larger the crowd, the better.

I gave my beautiful bar one more swipe with a clean bar cloth and steeled myself to take a good look at The Lounge. It’s soft, pearl-gray walls with hand-rubbed streaks of silver were overpowered by the mess that surrounded them. Gold and silver decorations were dripping over floor lamps and sconces, and noise makers and hats were in piles on tables. My sleek black chairs were set helter-skelter all over the floor. Happy New Year! Well, my porters would be in soon to clean up and we’d be ready to open in time for New Year’s Day brunch. Thankfully, Dean was working the early shift and I’d get to sleep in.

I put the evening’s take in a bank bag and headed for the safe in our basement office. Once I was done, I went back upstairs, bolted the front door, flicked off all the lights and walked past the kitchen to the back door. I was surprised to see it was slightly ajar—not good when you’re in a deserted bar on your own late at night. There’d been so many people in and out, I couldn’t keep track. At one point I’d looked over at Eltee, our bouncer, by the front door. He gave me a big smile and a thumbs up. All that was missing was the velvet rope and a few stretch limos filled with celebrities.

My imagination was getting the best of me. It was probably just one of the customers sneaking outside for a smoke who came back in and didn’t close the door all the way. I grabbed a bag of trash the kitchen porter had forgotten sitting next to the door and set the alarm.

When I stepped outside to lock up, I thought I saw movement by the dumpster. It was at the end of the alley next to a fence that abutted the backyards of the buildings on 10th Street. The area was poorly lit. There were deep, dark shadows surrounding it that made it difficult to see. Was someone there?

Thinking about the open back door had my nerves working overtime. I stopped myself from calling out and stood as still as I could. I let my eyes adjust to the dim light then took another look. All was quiet. I must have imagined it. No one was there waiting to jump out at me. Just darkness and shadows I’d noticed before. I walked toward the dumpster and hesitated for just a moment before I lifted the lid. When I did, I let out the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. There was nothing in it that didn’t belong. I tossed in the bag of trash and made my way to the building’s entrance at the other end of the alley on Avenue B.

Up in my apartment, Eric was sound asleep, a sweet smile on his lips. I hope he’s dreaming about me, something nice, I thought as I slipped in beside him, falling asleep the moment my head touched the pillow.

Chapter Three

Iawoke to Eric kissing me lightly on my forehead. I smiled up into his soft brown eyes. He was looking at me with a silly grin that spread from ear to ear.

What? I asked, smiling back as I lifted my face for a real kiss, then satisfied, snuggled deep under my comforter.

I didn’t mean to wake you, Jude. I’m leaving for home now. Go back to sleep.

What time is it? I mumbled, starting to sit up, worried I’d missed my shift at the bar.

Just ten, Eric replied, gently guiding me back down and placing the covers over me. "I promised mom and dad I’d be at their house by eleven for New Year’s lunch with Abuela Carmen."

Umm, I mumbled and turned over. S’okay. A second later I was asleep again. When I finally awoke at two o’clock, I felt rested. I usually didn’t get this much sleep, but considering it was almost six in the morning when I went to bed, I deserved it.

I’d forgotten that Eric was spending the day with his parents, sisters, and his grandmother who was visiting from Puerto Rico. It was going to be a hard day for all of them. These were the first holidays the family was observing since George, Eric’s identical twin brother, was killed.

I knew how horrible it was to lose a family member. I’d lost of all of mine a long time ago and their absence still haunted me. But for Eric’s parents it must be twice as unbearable—looking at an exact replica of the son who’d died. I knew Eric was doing everything he could to ease their pain, but I also knew it would never go away, not entirely. Nor would his.

Okay, Jude, great way to start the day. I shook off my melancholy mood before it got any worse and headed for the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. While it was brewing, I picked up last night’s sticky clothes that I’d thrown on the floor and tossed them in the hamper.

It’s a new day, a new year, and time for a new black turtleneck and jeans.

I got to The Lounge a little after four. Brunch was almost over, and Dean was behind the bar chatting to two pretty young women. Smiling his movie star smile—according to him working the bar was just a rehearsal for his eventual stardom—he was probably charming the pants off these ladies. Well, not literally—at least not right now. At six foot two with a great build, blond hair cut into a fade, and blue eyes that sparkled like the Mediterranean awash in the sun, he was what Sully jealously called a babe magnet.

When one of the women went to the ladies’ room, I noticed the other one ask for his phone. Giving her a sexy stare, he handed it over. Tossing a sultry look of her own right back, she punched in a number. Hers no doubt. Whether he’d use it or not, I’d probably never know.

The Lounge had a thriving singles vibe going on. The bar was full for our Monday through Friday Social Hour from five until eight p.m. But the real fun started later when the heavy hitters arrived, especially on Thursday nights.

What can I say? New York singles liked to start the weekend early and The Lounge was getting a reputation as the place to do it. I always made sure Dean was working with me on Thursday nights. He knew how to handle that crowd with its Tinder hook-ups, Snapchat, and constant texting, pouring on the charm with the drinks and never missing a beat. I, on the other hand, took over the service bar and chatted with the older folks like Sully and his pals, who kept me company until the noise level got to be too much for their more sensitive senior ears.

Working behind the bar instead of being on display in front of it was much more suited to my temperament. I was happy I had Eric as a boyfriend. I waved at Dean, pointed at my watch and held up ten fingers. Then I went off to find my partner and chef extraordinaire, Pete.

Hey, you, I said as I entered the kitchen. How many covers did we do today?

About sixty, I think, he replied looking at the call slips stuck on a pin for orders he’d filled.

Pretty good for New Year’s Day, hangovers and all, I said. I’ll check the book when I go back out to see how many reservations we have for tonight. Pete nodded and I continued in a more serious tone. Wanted to let you know someone left the back door open last night. I got a little spooked when I was leaving.

Jeez, Jude, I’m sorry. You know the kitchen crew and I all left together through the front as soon as we were done. We went over to the Silver Bullet for a New Year’s drink to chill out after the crazy night we had. I’ll make sure to have someone check it before we leave from now on.

I remembered waving to Pete and his team as they flew out last night. The kitchen had been really busy. Not your fault, I replied.

Pete was silent for a minute. There’s something else, Jude. He was frowning as he spoke.

My stomach clenched as I waited for him to continue. What now?

You know that new knife I just ordered, the really expensive one from Japan? he asked. It’s missing.

I did know the one. And it was expensive. More expensive than any other knife we’d purchased. I remembered what he’d told me when convincing me of the benefit of spending a pile of money to buy it.

It’ll last forever, Jude, he’d said. It’s seven inches of specialty steel and iron, he continued his pitch, and the blade is a sharp as they come.

Is it missing like you misplaced it? Or like it was stolen?

I’ve looked everywhere and it’s not here. He looked me in the eye. Considering what you just told me about the back door being open, I think it’s probably been stolen.

I gulped. That meant that someone had been in the restaurant while I was there by myself. I stumbled back into the counter behind me and Pete put out a hand to steady me.

Are you okay? he asked, realizing what must have been going through my mind. Jeez, you could have been—

I cut him off. I didn’t want to go there. I’m fine, all in one piece. But we need to do something about that door to make sure none of the customers open it to go outside. Maybe I had seen someone by the dumpster, after all. A few minutes earlier and I might have run into him while he was ransacking the kitchen. A chill crept down my spine.

Was anything else missing? I asked, bringing myself back to the present.

Pete shook his head. No, just the knife as far as I can tell. It’s strange, don’t you think? He gestured toward his work surface that held his collection of knives and other expensive utensils. I’ll look again but I really think it’s gone.

The restaurant had an alarm system but we didn’t set it during work hours. I always locked the front door when I was there late, and bolted it before I left. Up until now, I had no reason to think the back door would be open.

Let’s get Sully’s alarm guy in to put a separate one on the back door. And we’ll put up a sign that it’s an emergency exit only. He hesitated. This way, if anyone’s here late, no one will be able to get in. Okay?

By anyone he meant me. Okay. I checked my watch. I’d better get back to the bar and relieve Dean. I told him he could have the night off. I think he has big plans for the evening, I added, smiling.

Pete made the curvy shape of a woman with his hands. Big plans, huh? No doubt, he said and laughed.

Chapter Four

Sully was sitting at his regular seat at the bar, a Jameson on a coaster in front of him, when I returned. Dean looked more than happy to see me, and I noticed the young woman from a little while ago at a table in the dining room, texting away. He gave me a sly look as he said goodbye and walked over to her. I wondered how she’d gotten rid of her friend, but hey, that wasn’t any of my business.

So, I said to Sully as I planted myself in front of him, how are you today? Feeling the effects of all that partying in those old bones? I could never resist when I had the opportunity to get in a little dig about the difference in our ages—my thirty-four to his fifty-nine.

Sully tilted his head and looked at me. You know that song? What is it? Something like, ‘Let’s party like it’s 1999’? Well, it isn’t. And I can’t even though I tried.

Don’t suppose you want another one of those, then? I cast my eyes down to the nearly-empty glass on the coaster.