Alone with the Dead

by Robert J. Randisi

  Slovecky turned and went back into his office, closing the door behind him.

  "Let's go, Keough," Dolan said.

  "Going to walk me out, huh?"

  "I don't even know what I'm looking for," the sergeant said, shaking his head.

  "A Xerox copy of the file on the case, Dolan," Keough said. "Swann had one at his house."

  "He did?"

  "I saw it the night he died." Keough lowered his voice and added, "I told you that the other night."

  Dolan looked around to see if anyone had heard that.

  "It wasn't there after Swann was killed, Dolan. The killer took it with him."

  Dolan slammed a drawer.

  "Nothing here. This your coat?"

  Keough had tossed his raincoat on the desk when he got there.

  "Yes."

  Dolan picked up the coat, felt it, checked the pockets, and then tossed it to Keough.

  "Time to go, Keough."

  "You keep following that man's orders, Dolan, and you're going to go right down with him."

  "Let's go."

  Once they were outside the office, Dolan's attitude changed.

  "You had to do it, didn't you?" he demanded. "Not even here two weeks and you had to push him? You know, if you screw up this investigation, you're gonna screw everybody. I don't want to be a sergeant forever, Keough!"

  "The article in the paper pushed him," Keough said. "I just helped a little."

  "By accusing him of murder? That is what you did, isn't it? We could hear what was being said from outside."

  "He killed Swann, Dolan, I know it."

  They went down the stairs and out onto the street.

  "You attacked a superior officer, Keough."

  "He attacked me!" Keough said. "He tried to kill me, Dolan."

  "Well, that's gonna be your word against his, isn't it?"

  "And who's going to believe me, right?"

  "I would suggest that between now and then you get some facts-some hard facts, Keough-to back up your allegations."

  "Well," Keough said, "now that I'm suspended, I'll have the time to work on it, won't I?"

  "Without a badge, Keough," Dolan said. "Don't forget you're working without a badge."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  When Slovecky went back into his office, he dropped Keough's gun and shield on his desk and sat down. Suspending Keough was not going to stop the man, but it would discredit him to a degree, at least until Slovecky could figure out what to do.

  The call from the chief was another concern.

  "Slovecky, this is Chief LaGrange. Get your ass over here, and you better be ready to explain yourself."

  That had been the whole call. Obviously, the chief had seen the newspaper headline and read the article, and now he wanted to know what was going on.

  Slovecky sat back in his chair and tried to slow down his breathing. Losing it with Keough like that was not a good thing.

  The first thing he had to do, even before going downtown to see the chief, was call Pollard and see if Keough had indeed sent a copy of Swann's memo to the C of D's office.

  He knew that if he dialed the chief's office, he wouldn't get the chief himself, so there was no danger in calling the number back.

  "Chief of Detectives," a woman's voice answered.

  "Inspector Pollard, please."

  "One moment."

  He waited about that long until Pollard came on the line.

  "Inspector Pollard."

  "It's Slovecky."

  "Jesus," Pollard said, lowering his voice, "the chief is beside himself!"

  "I know, I just talked to him. I'll come over there and calm him down."

  "You're going to have to show some progress, Slovecky," Pollard said. "You're not going to be able to get around him the way you do me."

  Slovecky knew that was true. The chief was as clean as Pollard was supposed to be.

  "Did you get a memo from a Detective Keough about the Lover case?"

  "A memo? Wait a minute… yes, I did. It came across my desk several days ago. I'm still trying to decide if it's a crackpot, or if I should show it to the chief."

  "Whatever you do, don't show it to the chief."

  "Why not?"

  "The man who sent it is in my squad. He just attacked me, and I suspended him. He's unstable, Pollard. His record indicates that."

  "Why was he in your squad?"

  "I needed a replacement for Swann the man who was killed."

  "What's happening with that case?"

  "I don't know," Slovecky said irritably. "I'm not working on that case, am I?"

  "No, I just thought"

  "Don't think, Pollard, just listen. I'm on my way over there. Meet me downstairs with that memo. Understand?"

  "Meet you… in the open?"

  "Why not? We're both cops, aren't we? Just meet me right out front so I can get that memo from you. After that, I'll go up and see Chief LaGrange."

  "I don't know if this is such a good idea…"

  "Just do it, Pollard," Slovecky said, and hung up.

  Putting his jacket on to leave, he thought that maybe his losing control and attacking Keough might work out for the best. He hoped that discrediting Keough would be enough to keep anyone from listening to him.

  Stepping out of his office, he caught Sergeant Dolan's attention.

  "I've got to go and talk to the chief. I'll be back later."

  "Do you want someone to drive you, Lieutenant?"

  "No, I'll drive myself."

  "Uh, Loo, about Keough…"

  "Forget Keough. He doesn't fit into our chemistry."

  "Uh, yes, all right…"

  "I should be back within two hours. Don't do anything until I get back."

  "But Loo…"

  "Dolan," Slovecky said, cutting him off, "you're a good second whip because you do what you're told. Keep it up, all right?"

  Dolan hesitated, then said, "Yes, sir."

  "Good. Just hold down the fort."

  He patted Dolan on the shoulder. It should have been a gesture of camaraderie, but to Dolan it felt more like a master patting a dog: Stay.

  ***

  Dolan watched Slovecky go out the door and found himself hoping that the man would never be back. Maybe the chief would be impatient enough to replace him. Maybe he'd even promote him to lieutenant and put him in charge. Dolan had been telling the truth when he told Keough he didn't want to be a sergeant for his whole life. He'd seen this assignment to the task force as his chance, and now it looked like it might blow up in his-in everybody's-face.

  Because of Joe Keough.

  ***

  Insp. Paul Pollard hung up the phone, his hand lingering there. His stomach felt hollow, as it always did after speaking to Dan Slovecky. The man held his future in his hands, and there was nothing Pollard could do about it.

  He found the memo on his desk and read it again. If what the memo said was true, then Slovecky was grossly negligent in the way he was conducting the serial killer investigation. If Chief LaGrange saw this, he would replace Slovecky in a second. If he did that, however, Slovecky might take it upon himself to pull Pollard down with him. On the other hand, if Pollard hid this memo-handed it over to Slovecky, as the man had demanded-and it turned out to be true, and LaGrange found out about it, Pollard would be finished, anyway.

  He was in a no-win situation.

  He decided to do as Slovecky asked and turn the memo over to him, but just to cover himself he'd stop by the Xerox room on his way out of the building.

  ***

  Keough left the task force office and the building and stopped on the street. What should his next move be? He looked up at the window of the task force and shook his head. He'd played it wrong, and now he was going to be discredited-again. Not only would Slovecky charge him with assaulting a superior but he'd point to Keough's personnel file as an indication of his instability.

  Who was going to listen to him now?

  On the plus side, he had
managed to duplicate most of the paperwork in the Lover cases, and he had that file at home. That's where he'd be doing most of his work from now on, which should please Nancy and Cindy Valentine at least.

  He decided to head straight for home, and during the subway ride he realized that if the Lover happened to call the task force office again, he wouldn't be there to get the call. What would happen, he wondered, if the killer ended up on the phone with Slovecky?

  He shuddered at the prospect.

  ***

  When Lieutenant Slovecky reached One Police Plaza, a nervous Insp. Paul Pollard was waiting for him right out in front.

  "Got it?" he asked.

  "Yes."

  Pollard passed over a white number-ten envelope and Slovecky looked inside of it. The piece of paper there resembled the memo he had removed from Len Swann's desk the night he… the night of the… the night Swann died.

  "All right," he said, putting the envelope in his inside breast pocket, "let's go."

  "Let's go… where?"

  "To the chief's office. You're gonna want to be there when I talk to him. And Paul?"

  "Yes?"

  "Go along with anything I say. Understand? If I lose this assignment… well, the prospects wouldn't be bright for any of us."

  "For Chrissake, Dan…"

  "Take it easy," Slovecky said, playing with the lapels of Pollard's jacket. "Just go along with everything I say and things will work out for the best." He smiled and added, "I guarantee it."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  As they entered the office of Chief of Detectives LaGrange, Slovecky hoped that Pollard would be able to keep it together.

  "Lieutenant Slovecky, sir," Pollard said by way of introduction.

  LaGrange was standing at the window with his hands clasped behind his back. Slovecky stood there staring at the man's broad back, waiting for him to speak.

  "You know," LaGrange finally said, "I blame myself for this."

  "For what, sir?" Slovecky asked.

  LaGrange stared out the window a moment longer, then turned to look at Slovecky over his shoulder. His eyes were a startling blue beneath snow white eyebrows. Slovecky found himself oddly mesmerized by the effect, as most people did.

  "I never should have put you in charge of that task force sight unseen," the chief said. "When Inspector Pollard recommended you for the job, I should have brought you in here and checked you out myself."

  "With all due respect, Chief…" Slovecky began, but he allowed it to trail off when LaGrange put his hand out like a traffic cop.

  "I'm not saying you're not qualified, Lieutenant. All I'm saying is that I wouldn't have to be wondering now if I had made it a point to meet you then." LaGrange turned around to face Slovecky and added, "But I am wondering, Lieutenant. What do you have to say to me about the story in the New York Post today?"

  "Sir, I can't say for sure if the man who called the Post really was the Lover…"

  "Let's assume that he was, shall we? After all, he did mention the note, did he not?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "And we didn't leak the information about the note to anyone, did we?"

  "No, sir."

  "At least I didn't."

  "It wasn't leaked from my squad, sir."

  "Well," LaGrange said, looking past Slovecky at Pollard, "that would leave Inspector Pollard, then, wouldn't it? Do you think the inspector leaked the information, Lieutenant?"

  "No, sir, I don't."

  LaGrange stared at both men long enough for Pollard to begin shifting from foot to foot.

  "Sit down, gentlemen," LaGrange said, and seated himself behind his huge desk. Slovecky and Pollard sat across from him, side by side.

  "I'm a little surprised, Lieutenant."

  "At what… sir?"

  "I was told that you weren't… that you were a little… crude? Don't be insulted, but from your file I had assumed you to be… unpolished."

  "I am, sir," Slovecky said. "I don't make any excuses for that. I'm not like everyone else."

  "Well, so far you've conducted yourself admirably," LaGrange said. "I'd advise you to continue to do so for the rest of this conversation… no matter what happens."

  Slovecky was puzzled but said, "Yes, sir."

  "Good," LaGrange said, then suddenly shouted, "Now what the fuck is going on?"

  "Sir?"

  "Why haven't you caught this maniac yet, Lieutenant?" The well mannered man had been replaced by an angry, red-faced man who oddly reminded Slovecky of himself. Maybe there was hope for him to rise even higher than he had first thought.

  "We're working very hard on it, Chief…"

  "The commissioner wants results, Lieutenant," LaGrange said. "Do you know what that means?"

  "Yes, sir, that you want results, too."

  "That's very good, Lieutenant, right on the button. I want results, and if I don't get them, do you know what will happen?"

  "I can guess, sir…"

  "Never mind, I'll save you the trouble. I will replace you and every member of your squad. Now, tell me what's being done."

  "Well, sir, we're still working with VICAP, with department psychologists; we're still investigating the background of all the girls to see what acquaintances they had in common; we're continuing to have the note analyzed…"

  "In other words," LaGrange said, cutting him off, "you're still going through the motions."

  "We're doing everything we can, sir," Slovecky said. "If you don't mind my saying so, if you replace the entire squad, you'll be trashing months of work. Anybody you assign to the case would have to start from scratch. I don't think…"

  "I'll worry about that, Lieutenant," LaGrange said. "You just worry about catching this sick fuck. Have you talked to the reporter yet… I mean, beyond this scintillating quote from you in the paper?"

  "Not yet, sir," Slovecky said, "I was planning on doing that myself today, though."

  "Well, then, get the fuck out of here and do it. I want a progress report. If this killer is going to keep in touch with this guy, we should be able to use that. Get phone taps. Get the works, Lieutenant. Understand?"

  "Yes, sir," Slovecky said, "that was my plan."

  "Then go… go!"

  "Yes, sir," Slovecky said, standing up.

  Pollard stood as well, but LaGrange said, "Stay a minute, Paul."

  "Yes, sir," Pollard said as Slovecky went out the door.

  "What do you think, Paul?"

  "About Slovecky, sir?"

  "Of course, about Slovecky."

  "Well… he's doing all he can…"

  "He's jerking my chain," LaGrange said.

  "Sir?"

  "He's pulling an Eddie Haskell on me. 'Yes, sir, no, sir.' "

  "Eddie Haskell?"

  "Didn't you ever watch Leave It to Beaver?"

  "Was that a television show, sir? I never did watch much…"

  "Never mind, Paul, never mind. Your lieutenant was right about one thing."

  "My lieutenant?" Pollard repeated, but LaGrange ignored the remark.

  "To replace the entire squad right now would put us even further behind this maniac. Slovecky better come through, Paul, for his sake, your sake, and my sake."

  "Yes, sir," Pollard said sadly, "I'm sure he will."

  ***

  As Keough entered his apartment, he was thinking about Marcia Swann. What would she do when she heard about his suspension? And what would it matter at this point? If she made a fuss now, how much more trouble could he be in? Once Slovecky wrote him up, the department would come down on him-unless he showed some progress before that, unless he gave them a reason to come down on Slovecky and not him.

  He went directly to his phone and played back his messages.

  "Joe, it's Mike. Call me."

  There was one more, and when he played it back, he felt a chill.

  "Detective Keough, this is… a friend. We spoke earlier in the week. I hope you saw the Post today. I just wanted to thank you for the referral." Click, buz
zzzz…

  That son of a bitch. He didn't want to thank him; he wanted to let him know that he knew where he lived.

  The only call he could return was to Mike O'Donnell, and he'd planned on calling him, anyway. When the Post operator picked up, he asked for the reporter and was connected immediately.

  "Mike, it's Keough."

  "Joe. Jeez, did you see the story?"

  "I saw it."

  "My phone's been ringing like Grand Central Terminal. I got a call from your Lieutenant Slovecky."

  "He's not my lieutenant anymore."

  "Huh?"

  "I've been suspended, Mike."

  "Whoa, tell me about that."

  Keough could visualize the man hunched over his notebook, taking down information for the book.

  Keough explained to O'Donnell what had happened and then waited for a comment.

  "So he attacked you, but he's gonna write you up for jumping him."

  "Right."

  "And nobody witnessed it?"

  "They all heard what was happening from outside, but when they rushed in, we were already struggling. The son of a bitch is strong. He almost killed me."

  "Whataya gonna do?"

  "The only thing I can do is keep working on things, unofficially."

  "You could get in a lot of trouble for that."

  "I think I'm already in trouble, Mike. Now I've got to work to get myself out of trouble."

  "Well, good luck. Let me know if I can help. I owe you big, buddy."

  "Thanks, I'll remember that."

  "Listen, I've got to tell you about the conversation I had with your friend."

  "Did you give him my phone number?"

  "What? Hell no, but he did ask."

  "Well, he got it from somewhere."

  "He called you at home?"

  "Left a message on my machine. A thank-you message."

  "That's all?"

  "No. It was a 'thank you-I know where you live' message."

  "Just because he's got your number doesn't mean he knows where you live."