The World's Finest Mystery...

by Ed Gorman

  "It's Dell, Captain," he said when Larne answered sleepily.

  "How's it look?" Larne asked.

  "Not good," Dell told him. "Only one possible lead so far: an ex-boyfriend who threatened to slap her around. We'll start doing some deeper work on it tomorrow."

  "Was she raped?"

  "Didn't look like it."

  "Thank God for that much."

  "I'll let you know for sure after the autopsy."

  "All right. How's it setting with Kenmare and Garvan? You getting any resistance?"

  "No, it's fine. They're okay. They're giving me a temp desk downtown tomorrow. What's the word on Dan?"

  "The poor man is completely undone. The chaplain and the parish priest managed to get him drunk and put him to bed. Jim Keenan and some of the other boys are staying at the house until Dan's sisters arrive from Florida. Listen, you get some sleep. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

  "Okay, Cap."

  Dell hung up and went directly to the cabinet where he kept his bottle of gin.

  * * *

  At the Able, Bennett, and Crain advertising agency the next day, on the fortieth floor of a Loop building, Kenmare sat in Ronald Deever's private office to interview him while Dell talked with Sally Simms in a corner of the firm's coffee room. Sally was a pert blonde who wrote copy for a dental-products account. She told Dell that Edie Malone had been employed by the agency for about eight months as a receptionist and was well liked by everyone she worked with. Sally had double-dated with her half a dozen times, twice with the man named Bob Pilcher.

  "He's from North Carolina, a heavy smoker," she said. "That was the main reason Edie quit going out with him; she didn't like smokers. Said kissing them was like licking an ashtray."

  "What's the name of the club where he works?" Dell asked.

  "It's called Memphis City Limits. Kind of a hillbilly joint. Over on Fullerton near Halsted."

  "What made you tell your boss that you were afraid Pilcher might rough Edie up?"

  "That's what Edie told me. She said Bob told her he wasn't used to women dumping him, and maybe she just needed a little slapping around to get her act together. Edie wasn't sure he meant it, but I was. I mean, this is one of those guys that doesn't just walk, he struts. And he wears those real tight Wranglers to show off his package. Got real wavy hair with one little curl always down on his forehead. Ask me, he's definitely the kind would slap a woman around. I told Edie she was better off sticking with guys like Bart Mason."

  "Who's he?" Dell asked.

  "Bart? He's a nice young exec works for the home office of an insurance company down on twenty-two. They dated for a while, then broke up when Edie started seeing someone else."

  "Who did she start seeing?"

  Sally shrugged. "I don't know. She went out a lot."

  "Have you told Bart Mason that Edie's dead?"

  "Why, no. That detective in Ron Deever's office told both of us not to mention it."

  "We appreciate that you didn't," Dell said. "Besides this Bart Mason, do you know of any other men in the building that Edie went out with?"

  "No," Sally said, shaking her head.

  Just then, Kenmare came into the room. He said nothing, not wishing to interrupt the flow of Dell's interview. But Dell rose, saying, "Okay, thanks very much, Miss Simms. We'll be in touch if we need anything else."

  "Do I still have to not talk about it?" Sally asked.

  "No, you can talk about it now. It'll be in the afternoon papers anyway. But don't call Bart Mason yet. We want to talk to him first." When Sally left the room, Dell said to Kenmare, "Bart Mason, guy works for an insurance company down on twenty-two, used to date Edie. Supposedly doesn't know she's dead yet."

  "Let's see," said Kenmare.

  Going down in the elevator, Dell asked, "Anything with Deever?"

  "Nothing interesting."

  The insurance company occupied the entire twenty-second floor, and the detectives had a receptionist show them to Bart Mason's office without announcing them. Once there, Kenmare thanked her and closed the door behind them. They identified themselves and Kenmare said, "Mr. Mason, do you know a woman named Edie Malone?"

  "Sure. She works for an ad agency up on forty," Mason said. "We used to date." He was a pleasant looking young man, neat as a drill instructor. "Why, what's the matter?"

  "She was found murdered in her apartment."

  "Edie?" The color drained from Bart Mason's face, and his eyes widened almost to bulging. "I don't believe it—"

  "Can you tell us your whereabouts for the last forty-eight hours, Mr. Mason?"

  Mason was staring incredulously at them. "Edie— murdered—?"

  "We need to know where you've been for the last couple of days," Kenmare said.

  "What? Oh, sure—" Mason picked up his phone and dialed a three-number extension. When his call was answered, he said, "Jenny, will you come over to my office right away? It's important."

  "Who's that?" Dell asked when Mason hung up.

  "My fiancée. Jenny Paula. She works over in claims. We live together. We're together all the time: eat breakfast together, come to work together, eat lunch, go home, eat dinner, sleep together. We haven't been apart since a week ago Sunday when Jen went to spend the day with her mother." He took a deep breath. "My God, Edie—"

  A pretty young woman, Italian-looking, came into the office. She looked curiously at the two detectives. Mason introduced them.

  "They need to know my whereabouts for the last few days," he said.

  "But why?" she asked.

  "Just tell them where I've been, hon."

  Jenny shrugged. "With me."

  "All the time?" asked Kenmare.

  "Yes, all the time."

  "Like I said, we do everything together," Mason reiterated. "We work together, shop for groceries together, stay in or go out together, we even shower together."

  "Bart!" Jenny Paula said, chagrined. "What's this all about anyway?"

  "I'll explain later. Can she go now, Officers?"

  "Sure," said Kenmare. "Thank you, Miss Paula." She left, somewhat piqued, and Kenmare said to Mason, "We may need to talk to her again, in a little more depth."

  "We're both available anytime," Mason assured him.

  "How long did you date Edie Malone?" Dell asked.

  "About six months, I guess."

  "Were you intimate?"

  "Sure." Mason shrugged.

  "When did you break up?"

  "Late last summer sometime. Around Labor Day, I think."

  "What caused you to break up?"

  "Edie began seeing someone else. I didn't like it. So I split with her."

  "Do you know who she started seeing?"

  "Yeah. Ron Deever, her boss upstairs at the ad agency."

  Dell and Kenmare exchanged quick glances. They continued to question Mason for several more minutes, then got his apartment address and left.

  On the way back up to the fortieth floor, an annoyed Kenmare, referring to Ron Deever, said, "That son of a bitch. He never mentioned once that he went out with her. I think I'll haul his ass in and take a formal statement."

  "He'll lawyer up on you," Dell predicted.

  "Let him."

  When they got back to Able, Bennett, and Crain, Kenmare went into Ron Deever's office again while Dell took Sally Simms back into the coffee room.

  "Did you know that Edie Malone had dated Ron Deever?" he asked bluntly. Sally lowered her eyes.

  "Yes."

  "I asked you if you knew of any other men in the building that Edie had gone out with and you said no. Why did you lie?"

  "I'm sorry," she said, her hands beginning to tremble. "Look, this guy is my boss. I'm a single parent with a little boy in day care. I didn't want to take a chance of losing my job." She started tearing up. "First thing he asked me after you left was whether I told you about him and Edie."

  "Why was he so concerned?"

  "He's married."

  "Did Edie know that when she was
seeing him?"

  "Sure. It was no big thing for her."

  Dell sighed quietly. Reaching out, he patted the young woman's trembling hands. "Okay. Relax. I'll make sure Deever knows it wasn't you who told us. But if I have to question you again, don't lie to me about anything. Understand?"

  "Sure." Sally dabbed at her eyes with a paper napkin. "Listen, thanks."

  Dell sent her back to work and went into Deever's office, where Kenmare was reading the riot act to him.

  "What the hell do you think this is, a TV show? This is a homicide investigation, mister! When you withhold relevant information, you're obstructing justice!" He turned to Dell. "He's married. That's why he didn't come clean."

  "I just chewed out Miss Simms, too," Dell said. "Told her how much trouble she could get into covering for him."

  "All right," said Kenmare, "we're going to start all over, Mr. Deever, and I want the full and complete truth this time."

  A shaky Ron Deever nodded compliance.

  * * *

  When they got back to the squad room, Garvan was waiting for them and a spare desk had been set up for Dell.

  "She wasn't raped or otherwise sexually assaulted," he reported. "Cause of death was strangulation— from behind. Coroner fixed time of death at between nine at night and one in the morning. Best bet: between eleven and midnight." He tossed Edie's address book onto the desk. "You were right about this, Dell: It's old. Some of these people haven't seen or heard from her in three or four years. The ones who have couldn't tell me anything about her personal life. You guys make out?"

  "Not really," said Kenmare. "We've got one guy who could have slipped out while his fiancée was asleep and gone over and done it— but it's not likely. Another guy, married, was at his son's basketball game earlier in the evening, then at home with his family out in Arlington Heights the rest of the night. One of us will have to go out and interview his wife on that this afternoon."

  "I'll do it," Garvan said. "I need the fresh air after that autopsy. Oh, I almost forgot." He tossed five telephone messages to Dell. "These were forwarded from Lakeside. Three are from your partner, two from your captain."

  "If you need some privacy to return the calls," Kenmare said, "Garvan and I can go for coffee."

  Dell shook his head. "Nothing I can't say in front of you guys. You both know the situation." He could tell by their expressions, as he dialed Mike Larne's number first, that they were pleased at not being excluded. "It's Dell, Captain," he said when Larne answered. "I told you I'd check in when I had the autopsy results. Edie wasn't raped or anything like that. Somebody strangled her from behind, between nine Tuesday night and one on Wednesday morning." He listened for a moment, then said, "Couple of soft leads, is all. Very soft." Then: "Yeah, he's called me three times. I guess I better get back to him."

  When he finished his call to Larne, Dell dialed Dan Malone's home. The phone was answered on the third ring. "Hello."

  "Yeah, who's this?" Dell asked.

  "Who are you?" the voice asked back.

  "Frank Dell. Is that you, Keenan?"

  "Oh, Frank. Yeah, it's me. Sorry, I didn't recognize your voice. How's it going?"

  "Very slow. Dan's been calling me, I guess. How is he?"

  "Thrashed, inside and out. But the boys and me have him under control. And his two sisters are here with him. He's sleeping right now. It means a lot to him that you're working the case, Frank. He's got a couple of names that he wants checked: old boyfriends of Edie's that he didn't like. Wasn't for you being on the case, he'd probably be out doing it hisself. Pistol-whipping them, maybe."

  "You have the names?"

  "Yeah, he wrote them down here by the phone."

  Dell took down the names and told Keenan to tell Dan that he'd see him tomorrow with a full report of the case's progress. After he hung up, he handed the names to Kenmare. "Old boyfriends," he said.

  Kenmare gave them to Garvan. "Start a check on them before you go out to interview Deever's wife. Frank and I are going out to that line-dancing joint— it's called Memphis City Limits— to interview Bob Pilcher. We'll meet back here at end of shift."

  * * *

  Memphis City Limits did not have live music until after seven, but even in midafternoon there was jukebox country-western playing and a few people on the dance floor around which the club was laid out. It was a big barn of a building that had once been a wholesale furniture outlet, then remained vacant for several years until some entrepreneurial mind decided there might be a profit in a club catering to the area's large influx of Southerners come north to find work.

  Dell and Kenmare found Bob Pilcher drinking beer at a table with two cowgirl types and a beefy man in a lumberjack shirt. Identifying themselves, Kenmare asked if they could speak with Pilcher in private to ask him a few questions. Pilcher shook his head.

  "Anything you want to ask me about Edie Malone, do it right here in front of witnesses."

  "What makes you think it's about Edie Malone?" Kenmare asked.

  "No other reason for you to be talking to me. Story's been on TV news all morning about her being murdered." Pilcher spoke with a heavily accented drawl that sounded purposely exaggerated.

  "When did you see her last?" Dell asked.

  " 'Bout a week ago." He winked at Dell. "She was alive, too."

  "Can you account for your time during the past seventy-two hours?" Kenmare wanted to know, expanding the time period more than he had to because of Pilcher's attitude.

  "Most of it, I reckon," Pilcher replied. "I'm here ever' day 'cept Sundays from no later than six of an evening to closing time at two A.M. Usually I'm here an hour or two before six, as you can see today. As for the rest of my time, you'd have to give me specific times and I'd see what I could come up with." His expression hardened a little. "Tell you one thing, though, boys, you wasting good po-lice time on me. I didn't off the gal."

  "We have reason to believe you slapped her around now and then," Dell tried.

  "So what if I did?" Pilcher challenged. "You can't arrest me for that: She's dead, fellers, hell!" He took a long swallow of beer. "Anyways, one of the reasons women like me is that I treat 'em rough. That one wasn't no different."

  "So you did slap her around?"

  "Yeah, I did," Pilcher defied him, lighting a cigarette. "Go on and do something about it if you can."

  "Where can we find your employer," Kenmare asked, "to verify that you've been here the last three nights?"

  Pilcher smiled what was really a nasty half-smirk. "So she was offed at night, huh? For sure you'll have to pin it on somebody else." He nodded across the club. "Manager's office is that door to the right of the bar."

  Pilcher blew smoke rings at the two detectives as they left him at the table with his friends and sought out the club manager. He confirmed that Pilcher had indeed been on duty from at least six until two every night since the club had been closed the previous Sunday.

  "Brother, would I like to nail that hillbilly for this," Kenmare groused as they walked back to their car. "I'd plant evidence to get that son of a bitch."

  "So would I," Dell admitted. "Only there's no evidence to plant. Anyway, the time line doesn't jibe. A second-year law student could get him off."

  When they got back to the squad room, Garvan had already returned. "Struck out," he announced. "Deever's wife puts him at home from about ten-thirty, after their son's basketball game, until the next morning about eight when he left for work." He turned to Dell. "And those two boyfriends your partner didn't like: One of them's in the navy stationed on Okinawa; the other's married, lives in Oregon, hasn't been out of that state since last July. You guys?"

  "Pilcher's a scumbag, but his alibi's tight," Kenmare said. He looked at his watch. "Let's call it a day. Thursday's a big night for my wife and me," he told Dell. "We get a sitter, go out for Chinese, and see a movie."

  Dell just nodded, but Garvan said, "Go see a good cop picture tonight. Something with Bruce Willis in it. Maybe you can pick up
some tips on how to be a detective."

  "Up yours, you perennial rookie," Kenmare said, and left.

  Garvan turned to Dell. "Buy you a drink, Lakeside?"

  "Why not?" said Dell. "Lead the way, Homicide."

  * * *