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“The one that covers the bar.” She thought the front lot might come in handy later on, but one step at a time.
Moose brought up the file for yesterday and forwarded the footage to 4:59 PM.
“Can you skip ahead a bit?” She sure hoped this endeavor would give them a lead to follow.
Moose did as she had asked.
At ten after five, Jane entered the frame. “Back to regular speed, please?”
Moose complied and, on screen, Jane approached the bar, dropped onto a stool, and flagged down Moose.
“She was a single malt scotch on the rocks,” he said. “I’ve got a memory like a steel trap.”
That was impressive given how many drinks he would have served over his lifetime. With recollection like that it was no wonder he didn’t need a notepad when he took food orders.
Jane started off alone and the seats next to her were empty, but as the evening wore on, the place filled up. One grace was Jane was seated at the front of the feed, so it was easy to keep their eye on their mark.
Amanda had Moose play the footage at increased speed to cover the time more quickly than watching it pass live. At seven fifty-five, a man in a baseball cap sat down beside Jane, but he kept his head lowered.
“Who is that?” she asked Moose and pointed.
“Heineken Zero.”
Smartass. “Does he have a name?”
“I’m sure he does, not that I know it.”
She simpered. “Has he ever been in before?”
“I ain’t never seen him.”
The Tipsy Moose Alehouse wasn’t the only bar in Prince William County, but it was one of the more popular watering holes. If Moose didn’t know him, the man was likely from out of town.
“Want me to resume the movie?” Moose asked, a slight lift to his lips.
“Please,” she said.
As it played at regular speed, Jane and the man got cozier. But while she was knocking back scotch, he was drinking non-alcoholic beer. His motive could have been to get her into bed, but there was something off about his movements. They were somewhat twitchy. He was also good at obscuring his face—either blocking it with his hand, elbow perched on the bar, or letting the bill of the cap do the job.
Amanda had Moose speed up the feed.
At nine thirty, Jane settled her tab and got up. The man in the cap didn’t leave with her, but he wasn’t far behind. He’d slapped bills on the counter, so any chance of tracking him down by a credit card ended there.
“Can you get a closeup of his face?” Trent asked.
“Let me see. I feel like I’m on one of those cop shows, and it’s gonna be me who cracks the case wide open.” Moose smiled at Amanda and let it stay for Trent. She’d be fine with it; she wasn’t in this for credit, only justice.
Moose reversed and forwarded the feed in search of an ideal angle. No luck.
“What about outside? Can we see his vehicle, possibly his license plate?” she asked, feeling desperate to take whatever she could get.
Moose loaded the footage from the outside camera. The man arrived from the direction of the road, an area the camera didn’t cover. As he entered the bar, he walked with his head down. Averting the camera intentionally or coincidentally? When he left, again, he walked toward the road.
“He must have gotten dropped off by a taxi or car service,” Trent said. “They usually let their fares out up front.”
They were leaving with nothing. Just a faceless man in a baseball cap chatting up their victim at the bar. She still thanked Moose for his help.
“Anytime. By the way, you didn’t need to warm me up by buying lunch, but thanks!” Moose grinned.
