Soft Case: (Book 1 in the John Keegan Mystery Series)

by John Misak

  With all the miles I had put on my Mom’s Cadillac, I was going to owe her a new car. The Caddy hadn’t seen this much use in years, and I prayed that it didn’t fall apart from the abuse. I decided to take it easy heading out to Valley Stream. My mother would kill me instantly if I damaged her baby. She was worse than my father when it came to cars.

  It took me almost an hour to get out of the city and onto the Long Island Expressway. The traffic leading up to the tunnel was a complete nightmare. Everyone was racing to get home. I was just racing to get myself into more trouble. I was going to question a woman whose son had just died, and I had no credentials to prove I was with the police department. On top of that, I was pulling up in a Cadillac, not a department car. The only thing I could hope for was that Roseanna was there. Well, I hoped she was there for other reasons too, but by now, I don’t think I need to mention that.

  I pulled up to the house around four, and was happy to see

  Roseanna’s car parked in the driveway. I couldn’t get over how well my luck was going. I should have played the lottery that day.

  I parked the Caddy across the street and walked up toward the house. As I did, the door opened, and Roseanna walked out. She was wearing a tight pair of jeans and a loose-fitting sweatshirt. She didn’t look great, but she looked good enough. More than good enough.

  “Hello Detective,” she said, a bag of garbage in her left hand.

  “Hello Roseanna. Nice to see you again.”

  She smiled. “Are you here to ask me more questions, or would you like to speak to Ms. Minkoff?”

  “As much as I’d like to talk to you, it’s Ms. Minkoff that I came here for this time.”

  Another smile. I was doing well.

  “She’s inside. I’ll let her know you are here.”

  “Say,” I said before she turned to go inside, “have you seen my partner around recently?”

  “Not since he was with you the other day.”

  “Oh. I thought he might have come out here to speak to her,” I said, gesturing toward the house.

  “No one has come to talk to her.”

  “I see. Will you be around for a while; in case I have other questions for you?”

  “I’ll be here until 5:30.”

  “Great.”

  She opened the door and led me inside, to the living room like the last time. Everything was the same, complete with that ridiculous light on the ceiling. I sat down on the couch and waited for Ms. Minkoff.

  Roseanna brought her in about three minutes later. She was a dazzling-looking woman. I don’t mean she was gorgeous, but she looked stately, almost the way someone of royal blood should look. She was tall, almost six feet I would presume, with long white hair and elegant-looking legs. Her hands were a little rough, most likely from the work she did, and her eyes, ice blue, were calculating. She seemed to take a mental picture of me as soon as she saw me. I would venture to say she knew all she needed to know about me from doing that. That made me uncomfortable, relying on my first impression.

  “Detective Keegan,” Ms. Minkoff said, “I am Jackie Minkoff. Roseanna said you would like to speak to me regarding my son’s death.”

  I stood up and extended my hand. She shook it lightly, with sandpaper hands. This woman sure knew what a day of work was.

  “Yes, I would. First off, I would like to offer my condolences.”

  “Thank you. Please,” she said, gesturing toward the couch, “sit down.”

  I did, and she sat across from me on a love seat. She was wearing a black business suit, or at least that’s what it looked like, with a white shirt underneath. She looked classy.

  “What would you like to talk about?”

  “Well, ma’am, I am sure you know that we have your answering machine tape.”

  “I received it back in the mail from your department yesterday.”

  I didn’t know that, but it made sense. The woman did deserve to hear her son’s dying message.

  “Have you listened to it?”

  “I have.”

  “Can you offer me any insight on what he said? Anything that might pertain to this investigation?”

  She took a deep breath. “My son had a lot to say on that message. He didn’t sound much like himself, but I knew he was struggling with leaving the company and moving forward. Lord knows I told him to do it a long time ago, certainly before his father died.”

  “I know. His wife told us about his political aspirations.”

  “It wasn’t a secret.”

  “I know.”

  This woman seemed cold, like she didn’t trust me. That becomes a problem many times when you interrogate someone. Building trust becomes the single most important thing you can do.

  “Your son was a brilliant man. I am sure he would have succeeded in his political goals.”

  She smiled. “Ronny had more potential than any other man I ever met in my life. I applauded his decision to leave that company and embark on something he always dreamed of.”

  “He was a bit uncertain about leaving the company, wasn’t he?”

  “He was. It was because his father built that company. Don’t get me wrong, Detective, though I don’t care much for it, my ex-husband put his life into Techdata, and I was proud of him and my son for making it what it is today.”

  “I can understand that. What about the message, when your son refers to fixing damage done to what his father created?”

  “He’s referring to Harold Chapman, no doubt. It took me a while to figure that out. But we had talked about Chapman, and we had talked about what would happen to the company when Ronny left. He didn’t want Chapman to take over, but he had no choice. I am sure he suspected Harold of some underhanded dealings, but I am not sure if he ever nailed that down. I think what he meant by that message was that he had found something concrete and was going to do something about it.”

  “Any idea what Chapman might have been up to?”

  “Sorry, I haven’t the faintest idea what that man was doing.”

  “What do you know about Mr. Chapman?”

  “I know that he is just like his father in many respects. Ruthless to the point of absurdity. I also know that Harold and Ronny got along better than their fathers did.”

  “Okay. Now, I need to ask you some questions that will sound as though they are coming from left field. Just bear with me, okay?”

  “Ask away, Detective. I have nothing to hide.”

  “First, do you think that Harold Chapman is capable of murder?”

  “Harold? Murder?” She thought about that for a second. “Well, I don’t think the coward could pull the trigger himself, but he certainly could have someone else do it for him.”

  That was how I saw it as well.

  “Do you think he is capable of murdering your son?”

  “I don’t think it would make a difference to him, if he has something to gain, especially financially.”

  “Did your son ever mention anything about Harold and illegal campaign contributions?”

  Again she thought for a moment. I saw Roseanna walk by, her tight butt wiggling back and forth in her jeans. Stay focused, I told myself. I didn’t have Rick with me to get the information while I ogled the females.

  “Well, he never said anything specifically about it, but when we talked one time about going into politics, he said there was something he would have to investigate beforehand.”

  “You don’t know what that something was?”

  “I don’t. But what you just asked me seems to fit in real good.”

  “True. Now this might be a difficult question.”

  “Go ahead.” She was a rock.

  “Is it possible, in your own opinion, that your son committed suicide?”

  “Absolutely not. Impossible.”

  “Okay. The only reason I asked is that there is plenty of circumstantial evidence pointing to that, and several of the other people I interviewed thought it might be possible.”

  “I understa
nd how these things go Detective, but trust me, Ronny was in perfect psychological condition. He was happier than he had ever been in his entire life. He was making a career move that would reap unbelievable rewards for him. He would be financially secure for the rest of his life. If only he could have just gotten rid of that woman.”

  “You mean Sondra?”

  “I do. She was poison for him. She always was. All she cared about was how much money he made. She tried to talk him out of leaving the company until she heard how much money they would stand to make. Then she was all for him getting into politics. I never liked her. Ever.”

  That was obvious.

  “Were they having marital problems?”

  “On and off. He really loved her. That was the problem. Ronny was a genius, but when it came to matters of the heart, he had the instincts of a child. He really didn’t fit in when he was young, and he really didn’t get the attention he wanted. As he got older, things got worse because of the field he was going into. You know, computer geeks. Back then, it wasn’t chic to know things about computers. He got labeled, and had a hard time finding someone. Then he met Sondra. I’m sure you’ve heard all the talk about how she has been there for him since before he got rich, but she drove him nuts when he didn’t have any money. I saw her attitude change when she heard my ex-husband talk about how much money they could make when he shifted the focus of the business. She pushed Ronny so hard. And all he did was try and please her. She would sit at home, once the money came in, and they got into several fights because he suspected her of fooling around behind his back. She did, no doubt about that. He knew it too. But he was afraid of losing her.” Ms. Minkoff’s voice had raised a few pitches by the time she had finished speaking. She was angry.

  “Anything happen recently?”

  “I think they were fighting right before it happened. She was mad he wasn’t going down to the Bahamas, and he was certain she was cheating on him with someone he knew. He wouldn’t say who it was, probably because he wasn’t sure.”

  “Could it have been Chapman?” I asked, taking a proverbial shot in the dark.

  She laughed. “Harold? Absolutely not. I take it you have met him?”

  “I have.”

  “And you think it would be possible for her to fool around on my son with him? Come on now, Detective.”

  “Maybe for the money.”

  “My son had plenty of that. She went for younger men. She likes excitement, challenges. Harold would never be able to offer any of that.”

  She was right.

  “You have any idea who it might be?”

  “I don’t.”

  I thought about asking her some more questions, but I realized that she didn’t really deserve to be put through anything else.

  “Well, that’s about it, unless you have any other information that might be helpful.”

  “I can tell you one thing, detective. My son did not commit suicide. Someone is responsible for this, and I pray to God you find out who it was.”

  “I will.”

  Roseanna walked into the room.

  “If it’s okay, Jackie, I am all finished, and would like to go home.”

  “No problem, Roseanna.” Ms. Minkoff stood up. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Detective. I will be keeping an eye out to see how this investigation is handled.”

  You really don’t want to do that, ma’am, I thought. “I will do my best.”

  I got up and walked toward the door. Roseanna was right behind me. “Take care,” I said to Ms. Minkoff, and opened the door.

  When we made it outside, Roseanna asked, “You don’t have any other questions for me?”

  I thought about that for a moment. My luck had been running incredibly high that day. I figured I might as well throw the dice one more time, just to see what happened.

  “Well, on a non-professional level, I would like to know what you are doing for dinner this evening.”

  “That’s an interesting question, Detective. I guess I should be careful how I answer.”

  I felt the controls of the plane slip. I was heading for a crash, and fast.

  “Answer any way you like.”

  “Okay. I’m not doing anything, and I would be delighted to come to your place for dinner.”

  My place? My place? Jesus, talk about stellar luck. If there wasn’t an innuendo in that response, then there is no such thing as an innuendo.

  “That sounds great. Say, eight?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  I gave Roseanna directions. I had first suggested that she take the LIRR, but she said she preferred to drive. I would have to make sure she had a spot to park in. She jotted the directions down, gave me a seductive smile, and got into her car. Man, despite the difficulty I was having, life was getting good. Maybe there was more to this suspension thing than I had previously thought.

  I raced home. I had plenty of things to do before Roseanna got there. First off, I had to clean. I know that most people would think I was wasting my time with some house cleaning when I should have been out there trying to save my ass. Those people would probably be right, too. The problem was, I needed to get laid, and bad. It’s really hard to focus on a major investigation when you have the baby batter on the brain. I needed to exercise some underused muscles, relieve some stress, and then get focused. Of course, I might have been jumping ahead of myself, but I was going on instinct here. Roseanna wanted one thing, and I would be more than happy to give it to her.

  I started in the living room first. I threw the pizza boxes out. That made the place looks ten times better already. I checked under the couch cushions next, and found about two dollars in change, potato chip crumbs that could fill an entire bag, and four empty packs of cigarettes. I was starting to gross myself out. Was I that dirty? Answer—yes.

  After I went through the living room, I broke out the Windex. I sprayed everything, and came up with more dust than a roll of paper towels could handle. I was most amazed with how much filth was on the television. I always wondered why the damned picture on that thing never looked good. The room even smelled better when I was finished.

  The next trip was to the bedroom. I couldn’t remember the last time I changed my sheets. I went into the closet, got some new ones, and threw them on. Major improvement. The pillow cases I found didn’t match, but they were close enough. I preferred to have clean ones instead of matching ones anyway. The comforter was the only one I had, so I sprinkled a little cologne on it, improving its smell immensely.

  I thought I was done. I sat down on the couch, proud of my work. I still had a lot to do, mainly supplying food, but I was pretty sure I was finished cleaning. Then I remembered possibly the most important thing of all, the bathroom. Women are really picky about bathrooms. Mine was a disgrace. Reluctantly, I walked in there and surveyed it for a moment. There was so much white crap chunked on the sink that I forgot what color it was originally. I didn’t have bathroom cleaner, so I had to rely on the Windex again. I sprayed a ton of it on, and decided to let it set in for a bit before I wiped it. I moved to the toilet next. I’d rather not discuss what variety of gunk was on there, but it took a long time to clean. I almost puked when I was done. The sink came pretty clean, except for the hard water stains that wouldn’t come off no matter how hard I scrubbed. I felt like a homemaker doing all of that. It was, however, a means to an end.

  Being that I didn’t have any food to speak of, I’d have to order out. My funds were low, so my only choice was to use the credit card, something I really preferred not to do. I didn’t use it often, mainly because I was a poor bookkeeper and constantly made late payments. It was the intrusive phone calls late at night that I hated the most.

  I thought about my dinner options, and settled on Angelo’s, a small, quiet Italian restaurant on the comer. I often brought that stuff home because I was too lazy to cook all the time. The food was better than decent, and I figured that Roseanna wasn’t used to high-class meals. At least, that’s what I hoped. If
she was looking for class, she had barked up the wrong tree.

  Twenty-Two

  I had just finished unpacking the food and putting it on to plates when my buzzer rang. I set the food on the table, ran to the bathroom for a quick breath freshener, and went to the door. I hit the talk button on my intercom.

  “Hello,” I said.

  “It’s me.” Women always say, “It’s me,” even if you barely know them. I think it’s a test they always like to use, to see if there are any other “me’s” around. The whole “me” thing is nothing more than an elaborate trap, and I do not feel sorry for any guy who falls victim to it.

  “It’s me too,” I said.

  “Funny. So, should I just stand out here all night, or are you going to let me in?”

  “I’ll think about it.” Then I pressed the buzzer. No sense in risking it. Remember the thing about my humor and timing.

  She made it to the door, which I had so politely opened, dressed in a white sweater and a short black miniskirt. The legs were nice, very nice. The sort you want to munch on for an hour or two. I was standing in the kitchen when she got to the door, and I caught her take a quick glance around my pad. She seemed to like what she saw, whatever the hell that might have been.

  “Hello,” I said, from the kitchen, pretending like I was busy. I wasn’t actually going for the “I cooked this meal” routine, but if she automatically assumed that, I knew it wouldn’t hurt.

  “How are you?”

  “Good. Want something to drink? Soda, wine?” Yes, I was smart enough to get some beverages, and had talked the guy at Angelo’s into selling me two bottles of Chianti at a reasonable price.

  He even threw in two wine glasses.

  “Red?”

  “Got that.”

  I poured the wine and brought it out to her. She had put on some makeup. Not much, but it was noticeable, and she looked even better than the first few times I saw her. Her lips were painted an almost crimson red, and she had on some light eye shadow. She smelled of perfume, the sort of perfume that excites the, um, senses, if you know what I mean. If you don’t, then you need to start hanging around some seductive women. Try the street near the Javits Center. They only charge twenty bucks.