She paused in obvious fear when she saw him and saw the opened door of his mother’s apartment, the lock shattered and the door battered. He saw where her gaze had gone.
‘Don’t worry about it. I was worried about my mother,’ he said. ‘Do you know Ceil Morris?’
‘Mrs Morris? Oh,’ she said putting her hand to the base of her throat. ‘Yes. Poor lady.’
‘What do you mean “poor lady”?’
‘She died. They found her dead this morning. Probably heart failure.’
He stared at her and shook his head. ‘Ceil Morris died?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid so. Who did you say you were?’ she asked, incredulous, the words now sinking in.
‘No one,’ he said. ‘No one.’ He headed for the elevator.
‘I thought you said you were her son. I didn’t know she had a son. Oh dear.’
He looked past her as if he expected his mother to step out of the apartment to confirm that he was indeed her son.
‘No,’ he repeated and stepped into the elevator.
She stood there staring at him.
‘It’s not my fault,’ he screamed at her and punched the button for the lobby. ‘It’s not my fault,’ he muttered. ‘It’s theirs. Theirs!’
The doors closed.
When he stepped out of the building, he was still muttering to himself. As he headed up the street, he waved his fists at imaginary enemies.
Some nearby pedestrians widened the distance between them and him. It was one thing to laugh aloud, but to curse and shake his fist in the air was quite different. He glared at them and then he checked his actions quickly and hurried on before it was too late.
Palmer didn’t realize how tired he was until he inserted his key in his apartment door. He closed his eyes for a moment and then he opened the door and entered, surprised to see the lights on and hear music.
Tracy appeared in the kitchen doorway.
‘Where were you?’ she asked.
‘On a case. It took Tucker and me upstate. It’s a nice surprise finding you here. What’s going on?’
‘Howard was so excited about a move I made two days ago with the shopping mall project in Westchester, he gave me a bonus and sent me home early. I had this nutty idea I would make this dinner for us to celebrate. It was a big bonus,’ she added.
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault. It’s mine for assuming you would be around after work.’
‘There is often no after work in my business,’ he told her, ‘and unfortunately, no bonuses or time off for good behavior.’ He looked toward the dining room. ‘What did you prepare?’
‘Your favorite. Chicken Kiev.’
‘Damn.’
‘We can have it tomorrow night,’ she said. ‘You ate something, I take it.’
‘Fast food on the way back.’
‘Well, we can have a drink and relax together at least. I’ll draw you a warm bath. You look like you need it and, if it’s the case we’re sharing, I’ll want to hear.’
‘Sharing?’
She kissed the tip of his nose and then his lips. ‘You know of what I speak,’ she said. ‘Go get ready for your bath. I’ll wash your neck and your back and whatever if you’re nice and cooperative.’
‘Sounds like blackmail,’ he said.
She shrugged. ‘Arrest me.’
‘I just might put you in handcuffs, yes.’
‘Ooooh. Don’t get me too excited. I’ll get the water too hot.’
He laughed and then headed for the bedroom.
‘Oh,’ she added before he got there. ‘I see you have a message on your answering machine.’
‘Do I? Thanks.’
He went to it and replayed the message. It was from Detective Wizner.
‘Hey, tried to reach you earlier on your cellphone and then thought I’d leave a message for you here. I don’t know if it’s anything, but we got a call concerning that Morris woman. Seems her neighbor confronted a man who had just broken into Mrs Morris’ apartment. He doesn’t fit your perp’s description, but she swears he told her he was Mrs Morris’ son and then tried to deny he said it. Anyway, for what it’s worth, there it is,’ Wizner said. ‘I’m going over to check out the place and speak to the neighbor. Her name’s Lomar, Dorothy Lomar. Speak to you later if I come up with anything for you.’
‘What was that about?’ Tracy asked from the bathroom doorway.
‘Not sure.’
‘Why would someone else be robbing her home? She must have something very valuable hidden away. Maybe she doesn’t even know it. It reminds me of that Audrey Hepburn movie, remember?’
‘Whoa, Tracy. Slow down that runaway imagination. We’re not in the movies here.’
‘Just thought I’d help. Four eyes see more than two, my mother used to say. Or was it my grandmother?’
He laughed and returned to his bedroom. As he undressed to put on his robe, he thought about the irony that he was about to soak in a warm bath and enjoy happiness and pleasure while less than a hundred miles away, two families, relatives of both Peter Crowley and Michael Watson would be soaking in cold, dark sorrow. Often during some quiet moment, he would think about the statistical fact that every day, forty-five people were murdered in the United States. There were forty-five families in mourning right at this moment and forty-five new homicide cases opening, most nowhere nearly as complicated as this one involving that poor cab driver and Father Martin. Still, a number of people all over the country had lost someone they loved.
The public was so desensitized by the constant media reportage that one murder or violent death seemed like another and after a few seconds of seeing how the death had impacted on loved ones, it disappeared, popped like a bubble and was forgotten. For him and so many of his fellow law enforcement comrades, the judicial system and its handling of the offenders was more like a sewer system that had gone awry, plugged up and with leaks everywhere.
After some of the things he had witnessed even in his short career so far, it wasn’t all that surprising to come upon a case where a convict was out there recommitting capital crimes, even one who had supposedly died and been buried. Surely there was some sensible explanation for all this. Somehow, somewhere, the system had fucked up again, he thought. In the end it will probably result in their discovering bureaucratic screw ups. People will acknowledge them, but few if any will bear any real responsibility. It will go on and happen again sometime.
Maybe Tucker was right to rely on the procedures, plodding through the steps and not dreaming of doing much more than following through, closing a case and then moving on according to the dictates of the system. Being too ambitious led to frustration and cynicism, which eventually made you darker and simply another part of the whole damn mess. He was too young to have these depressing thoughts. He wanted to find a way to fight them off.
‘Why are you just sitting there like that, Palmer?’ Tracy asked him.
He looked up, surprised to find himself sitting on his bed thinking.
‘Just tired, I guess.’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘You know I have a built-in bullshit detector,’ she warned.
‘You’re in deep thought about this case. You are resisting relaxation. Either put it out of mind or share.’
He laughed. ‘OK. It’s probably better for me to talk to someone who will listen anyway,’ he agreed. He rose. ‘To the tub.’
She followed him into the bathroom. He felt the water, nodded, smiled at the bath oil she had added which already had bubbled up, and then dropped his robe. He lowered himself in the water and closed his eyes. For a moment he thought he might just fall asleep. The he heard her movements and opened his eyes to see her undressing and getting into the tub as well.
‘Move down a bit,’ she ordered, slipping in behind him. ‘So I can do your back first.’
He did and she began.
‘I’m in heaven,’ he said. ‘I don’t even remember dying.’
‘This is called livin
g, stupid,’ she said. ‘No one bathes in heaven because no one can get dirty in heaven. It would not be heaven.’
‘Um. You have a good point.’
‘OK, start talking,’ she said. ‘And if there are ugly details, do not skip them.’
He reviewed the case with her while she gingerly moved the washcloth over his neck and around his back.
‘It might very well be just a few coincidences,’ she said.
‘Yeah, Tucker’s of that opinion, although he does admit that something’s out of the ordinary, someone’s out there covering up something, if only a procedural error.’
‘Have you found a way to explain Mrs Morris’ description of this guy and then Father Martin’s clerk’s matching description in light of the fact that he was capable of committing two violent murders. Mrs Morris thought he was minutes if not seconds from being dead himself, right?’
‘Well, I guess I have to go with the theory that whoever he is, he is in a disguise of sorts. Actually, taking on the appearance of an elderly man is clever.’
‘So, someone skilled in make-up is an accomplice?’
‘I don’t know what else to think.’
‘Maybe this guy was a make-up artist before he became a criminal. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation.’
‘Um.’
They were both silent, both their imaginations casting about for some explanation when they heard the phone.
‘Shit,’ he said.
‘Just let it ring, Palmer. You’ve got an answering machine.’
‘It might be Detective Wizner.’
They listened after the beep.
It helped that his caller was literally shouting into the phone.
‘Detective Dorian, I am not responsible for my mother’s death. I know who is and I’ll take care of it. She shouldn’t have called you in the first place. You stay out of my way and justice will be done.’
They heard him hang up.
Neither spoke. They both froze for a moment in the water, Tracy’s hand on his shoulder.
‘“My mother’s death”?’ she repeated.
Palmer rose out of the water and reached for a bath towel.
‘He didn’t sound old, did he, Palmer?’
‘I don’t know how old people sound anymore,’ Palmer replied stepping out of the tub. ‘I’d better give Tucker a call, play the message for him and tell him about Wizner’s message.’
‘How did he get your home number?’ Tracy asked, still seated in the water.
Palmer paused. ‘Yeah. I gave it to his mother.’
‘She gave it to him?’
‘No. He was gone by then, but Wizner said the neighbor saw someone who broke into the apartment. He must have found the card,’ Palmer said. ‘Or maybe … he’s called from there just now. Maybe he’s only just now found the card. We’ll have to get over there.’
‘You just got home. Didn’t that Detective Wizner say he was going over there. He must have checked it out?’
‘Maybe.’
He got out of the tub, grabbed a towel and started for the phone in the living room.
‘Palmer …?’
‘Hey, it’s our case, Tracy. We have to follow through. Besides, even if he’s gone, I want to be sure no one messes up any possible evidence,’ he replied. He called the precinct first to see if Wizner had been to the apartment and back. He caught him just leaving.
He listened to the description Mrs Lomar had given.
‘She didn’t say he looked aged, then?’
‘Older, but not aged, and very well dressed. She said he became quite agitated. You should see the job he did on the door. Tore out the frame, so I wouldn’t call him exactly decrepit.’
‘You guys lift any prints?’
‘Yeah, we have plenty. I’m ahead of you there.’
‘What?’
‘We’ve got prints matching the ones lifted at Father Martin’s. Same guy.’
‘Same guy, but not in coveralls and very old looking?’
‘You can talk to Mrs Lomar yourself, but that’s what I got from her. She’s sure she’s never seen him before this.’
‘I see. Has anyone made contact with Mrs Morris’ sister?’
‘I didn’t know she had one. Bill Clark takes care of that stuff. I’ll find out. Hold on. He’s still here.’
Palmer waited, wiping himself dry as he did.
‘OK,’ Wizner said coming on. ‘Yes. He reached an Edith Zucker in Duluth.’
‘That’s the one.’
‘She’s on her way.’
‘Have Clark arrange for me to meet with her,’ Palmer said.
‘Will do.’
‘OK. Thanks. I’m heading over to Mrs Morris’ apartment.’
‘Now?’
‘I believe this guy I’m looking for might have called from there just now. It’s possible.’
‘All right. I’ll call you if I get anything more on this.’
‘Thanks,’ Palmer said, hung up and started to call Tucker.
‘Palmer?’ Tracy called from the bathroom.
‘Let me talk with Tucker,’ he replied.
‘Wait,’ she shouted as she shot up and out of the tub. She reached for a towel.
‘What?’
‘I’m coming along,’ she shouted.
‘Like hell you are,’ he called back. ‘Even if I let you, Tucker would blow a gasket.’
She came out of the bathroom with the towel wrapped around her.
‘I’ll wait in the car. How’s that?’
‘He won’t like it. It’s against regulations to take a civilian along on a homicide investigation, Tracy.’
‘I’m not a civilian. I’m your … girlfriend … we’re practically engaged,’ she said and then added, ‘I’m just waiting for you to get up enough nerve to ask.’
He stood frozen with the phone still in his hand. ‘Are you kidding?’
‘Do I look like someone kidding about that? I’m standing here naked, Palmer, and I just washed your back,’ she said. ‘In some Far Eastern countries that’s the same as a marriage commitment.’
He smiled and then shook his head. ‘Women and timing,’ he said. ‘Put the tape on pause. I’ll be back in a few hours and we’ll continue the discussion.’
She grimaced.
‘Please,’ he pleaded. ‘I’ve got to move quickly.’
‘OK, if you’d rather go chasing after a killer,’ she said, dropped the towel and then sauntered toward the bedroom, her beautiful curvaceous body simmering.
He laughed and dialed out Tucker’s number, shouting, ‘That’s unfair, Tracy Andersen, dirty pool, and might even be obstruction of justice or an attempt to do so.’
‘I’m still waiting for those handcuffs,’ she shouted back.
Tucker Browning’s gruff hello sobered him quickly.
‘If you’re undressed, dress. I’ll be by in fifteen,’ Palmer said.
‘I knew it was you. I just knew it. Why are you coming around?’
‘We’re going back to Ceil Morris’ apartment.’ He described Wizner’s first call.
‘Broke down the door? Maybe he thought the old lady had more money stashed.’
‘That’s not the reason I’m calling you. He just called and it could very well have been from there.’
‘Who just called?’
‘Grandpa,’ Palmer said.
‘Who?’
‘The grandpa/son. I gave her my card with my home number on the back, remember?’
Tucker was silent a long moment. ‘How do you know it was him exactly?’
‘He was screaming about his mother and justice, how he’ll take care of it and how we should back off. I’ll play it for you. Listen,’ he said and put the receiver by the answering machine speaker.
‘Well?’ he asked when it ended.
‘Just don’t tell me you had a premonition and that was why you gave her the telephone number,’ Tucker said. ‘I can take anything but that.’
Eight
The p
ayphone from which he made the call to Palmer Dorian was in the rear of the restaurant between the men’s and women’s rest rooms. It was an upscale restaurant on the lower East side, just across from Jack Temple’s law offices. He did not know where Temple lived or he would have gone directly there. He realized this was a very connected lawyer who would be far less accessible than Father Martin, but he thought he would have an opportunity to confront him in the garage below the building. He had slipped in to look it over. There were two driving lanes to enter, one for the tenants and one for guests. Both lanes had bars across them that lifted. The tenant would insert a card or punch in a code, but the guests would have to stop and sign in with the parking attendant. All of the parking spaces were clearly delineated and everywhere possible there were signs warning drivers not to invade them. There were however, designated spaces for guests and clients. In the center of the garage were the elevators.
He located the space reserved for Jack Temple. It was at the far right end of the garage. While he was looking it all over, he noticed a space between the wall and the ceiling just to the right of Temple’s parking slot. It was big enough for him to slip into. He had slept in worse places.
Satisfied with his plan for confronting Jack Temple, he returned to the restaurant, this time to eat and have something to drink. It would be his first alcoholic beverage for more than three years. Before now, he hadn’t had the desire.
After he had called the detective, he went into the men’s room and once again was very pleased with what he saw reflected in the mirror. The deep wrinkles in his face were far less emphatic and the circles around his eyes were nowhere nearly as dark and as puffy. He had never thought himself a terribly handsome man, but he always believed he had a sexual magnetism because of his deep blue eyes and the way he could undress a woman with them. Many sophisticated women noticed it and most even blushed, but it didn’t turn them off. They felt the animal lust in him and it awakened it in themselves.
What was even more important, perhaps, was his self-confidence when it came to women. He was smooth enough so that they weren’t turned off by his arrogance. He used to think of it as passengers in a jet feeling secure because the pilot gave off an aura of experience and confidence. It was the same with patients of great doctors. Lovers were no different, especially women. They would rather be in the hands of someone who knew his way down the road of lust and pleasure. There was no stumbling around, blundering modesty and awkward moments to make them self-conscious about their own sexual appetite – not with him.
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