New York City Murders

by W. D. Frolick

  “In about a week or two. After the cleaners sanitized and cleaned up the mess in my bedroom, I hired a painter to repaint the entire place. Once that’s done I intend to buy new furniture for every room, especially for the bedroom. I think I’ll buy a king-size bed this time. I don’t relish the thought of sleeping in my old bed after what happened to Mason. I’m donating my old stuff to Father Murphy’s Mission House. They sell it and use the proceeds to help homeless people. It’s a good cause.”

  “Where are you staying while you’re waiting for your condo to be made available?”

  “I’m at the Rodeway Inn on Webster Avenue. It’s close to the precinct. Speaking of which, it’s getting late. I’d better get going.”

  Buck finished his beer and stood up.

  “Why drive all the way back there? You can stay in the spare bedroom. I’ve even got a new toothbrush you can use,” Kristie said, a seductive grin on her face.

  Kristie was thinking, Or you can sleep with me in my bed, you handsome six-foot-three muscular devil. I’d love to run my fingers through your thick, wavy dark hair while I gaze into those mesmerizing jade green eyes.

  “It’s not that far. Plus I’ll need a change of clothes in the morning.”

  Kristie pouted. “Please, Buck. Kruger knows where I live. He may decide to come back here. I’d feel safer if you stayed. I’ll set the alarm for six. You’ll have plenty of time to go back and change in the morning.”

  Buck was sound asleep, dreaming he was back in Maine fishing with his grandfather at his cabin on Pushaw Lake. He awoke with a start when he felt a hand press against his chest and gently pull him back into a soft, warm body. It took him a few seconds to realize where he was and what was happening.

  “Hey,” Kristie whispered. “I couldn’t sleep. I’m still wound up over my episode with Kruger. I thought maybe you could find a way to help me relax.”

  Without a word, Buck rolled over and pulled her body into his. He kissed her tenderly on the lips, and she returned his kiss, her tongue exploring his with a passion neither of them had experienced in a long time.

  They awoke to the sound of an alarm clock buzzing across the hallway in Kristie’s bedroom.

  “Damn,” Kristie said. “It feels like I just got to sleep.”

  She bounced out of bed, ran into her bedroom, and turned off the alarm. When she returned, Buck was sitting up, rubbing his eyes.

  “Good morning,” she said. “How are you feeling?’

  He smiled. “I’ve never felt better. Was I dreaming, or were you in my bed last night?”

  “What,” Kristie laughed, “you don’t remember me seducing you?”

  Buck smiled. “Yeah, I remember. You can seduce me anytime. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”

  “If we had more time, I’d like to take you back to heaven again, but we’d better get moving if we want to get to work in time for our meeting with the boss lady.”

  Buck got dressed while Kristie made coffee. She handed him a mug on his way out the door.

  “I’ll see you in the squad room at eight,” he said.

  “Okay. See you there.”

  After Woods had left, before hitting the shower, Kristie sat at the kitchen table, smiling as she sipped her coffee. Last night had turned out better than she had expected. Her seduction of Buck went as planned. It had been a long time since she had made love to someone she cared about. She hoped that he had enjoyed it as much as she did. Getting involved with her work partner probably wasn’t a good idea. Actually, it was a terrible idea, but she was willing to take it one day at a time and see where things ended up.

  On his way to the car, Buck was thinking about Kristie. His mind was in turmoil. Making love to her felt so right, but did he do the right thing? It all happened so fast. Was getting involved with his new partner wrong? Probably. What would Captain Robertson think if she found out? He was sure she wouldn’t approve. For years Buck had avoided relationships because he was afraid of getting hurt or hurting the other person. Losing his first love, Doreen Warren, the summer they graduated from high school was a tragic event. Although it wasn’t his fault, he had always blamed himself, living with the guilt all these years. The few relationships he had been involved in since Doreen’s death didn’t work out. He always broke things off before they went too far. Was it because he was afraid of making a commitment? Could be. He thought that if he got married and had kids, it wouldn’t be fair to them. Because his job was so dangerous, if he got killed in the line of duty, he didn’t want to leave a grieving widow and fatherless children behind. Maybe what happened last night was a one-night stand. Should he nip it in the bud and end it before things went too far? If he was smart, that’s what he should do. However, with Kristie, all his fears seemed to vanish. She made him feel like a teenager again. He decided to take it one day at a time and see where the journey took them.

  Buck stopped at Starbucks and picked up a couple of whole wheat muffins to go with the coffee Kristie had given him. Back in his room, he shaved, showered, and put on fresh clothing. He arrived in the squad room at ten to eight. Five minutes later, Kristie strolled in, humming a cheerful tune carrying a coffee and a bagel.

  “Good morning, again,” she said with a wink and a warm smile.

  Buck winked back and returned Kristie’s smile.

  “Good morning, Detective, I trust you slept well.”

  “Never better,” Kristie replied, a cat-ate-the-mouse grin on her face.

  Before their meeting with Captain Robertson, Buck uploaded last night’s conversation between Kruger and Kristie onto a flash drive.

  “Good morning, Detectives,” the captain said as they entered her office.

  “Good morning, Captain,” they both said in unison.

  “How did things go with Lieutenant Kruger last night? Did you get any new evidence?”

  Before he sat down, Buck handed her the flash drive. “I think you may find the conversation on this very interesting.”

  Captain Robertson put the flash drive into her computer and sat back to listen.

  After absorbing the entire conversation, she leaned forward and said, “We’re getting closer, but I’d like more. I want you to hit the streets. Turn over every rock until you find the suspected drug dealer whom we believe to be Detective Mason’s killer. Based on the videos Detective Mason provided and the videos from your building, it shouldn’t be too hard to figure out who he is. Bring him in and see if you can get him to confess to the murder and implicate Kruger as the person ordering the hit.” She didn’t say a word about Kristie’s blow-up with Kruger.

  “Okay, Captain,” Buck said, “we’ll hit the pavement and see if we can find him.”

  Back in the squad room, Kristie said, “I can’t believe S.M. wants more evidence on Kruger. I thought that recording would have been enough.”

  “The recording should be enough for a bribery charge, but she wants to nail Kruger for Mason’s murder, too.”

  Buck and Kristie spent the rest of the day driving the streets of the Bronx looking for anybody who resembled the suspect. Nothing turned up. By six they were both starving, so they decided to quit and resume their search in the morning.

  Just as they were about to leave and head home, Buck’s cell phone rang. It was Captain Robertson.

  “It’s the captain,” he said to Kristie.

  “I wonder what she wants?”

  “Hey, Captain.”

  “Are you having any luck?”

  “Not yet. We haven’t seen anyone who looks like the guy we’re looking for. We’ve decided to pack it in and pick it up again in the morning.”

  “I just want you to know I took your suggestion and have arranged for Detective Davidson to come in at nine tomorrow morning. I’d like you and Detective Karlsson to be here. Maybe he knows something that will help us nail Kruger.”

  “Okay, Capt
ain, we’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”

  “Good night, Detective.”

  CHAPTER 7

  The next morning at nine, Detective Joe Davidson strolled into Captain Robertson’s office.

  “Thanks for coming in, Detective. You know Detective Woods, but I don’t think you’ve met his new partner, Detective Kristie Karlsson.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Detective Karlsson,” he said, extending his hand.

  After shaking Karlsson’s hand, Davidson turned to Buck. “It’s nice to see you again, Buck.” They shook hands and Davidson took a seat next to Kristie.

  “What’s this about, Captain?” Davidson asked.

  “It’s about Detective Dan Mason’s murder. Since you are, or should I say, you were his partner, we’d like to know if you have any idea who might have wanted him dead?”

  “That’s a good question, Captain. Since Dan was undercover gathering evidence against the White Skulls, it seems logical that they were his killers. My guess is he was getting close to nailing one of their members for dealing drugs, and he murdered Mason or had him killed.”

  “That makes sense,” Buck agreed. “The man on the elevator the night of Dan’s murder had a White Skulls tattoo on his neck.”

  “What about Lieutenant Kruger, do you think he played a role in Mason’s murder?” asked Captain Robertson.

  That question seemed to catch Davidson by surprise. “Kruger? Why do you say that?”

  “Before he died, Detective Mason took several pictures and videos of Lieutenant Kruger meeting on a street corner in the Bronx with an unidentified man Mason believed to be a drug dealer. It appeared as if Kruger was taking envelopes filled with cash. In one picture Kruger gave the man an envelope. We suspect the envelope contained money to pay for the murder of Detective Mason. After Mason’s death, Buck received a phone call to pick up a package at Mason’s lawyer’s office. It contained a flash drive with the pictures I mentioned and a note containing Detective Mason’s suspicions that Kruger was accepting bribes to let the dealer carry on business without fear of being arrested.”

  “Wow! I find that hard to believe. But I suppose anything is possible.”

  “Did Detective Mason ever mention he suspected Kruger was taking bribes?” Kristie asked.

  “No. Dan never mentioned a thing.”

  “The problem,” said Captain Robertson, “is we can’t prove those envelopes contained cash. Without proof that Lieutenant Kruger was taking bribes our hands are tied.”

  “Sorry I can’t be of more help, Captain.”

  “Please keep what I’ve told you today to yourself.”

  “No problem, Captain, my lips are sealed.”

  “If you hear or see anything that you think might help our case against Lieutenant Kruger, please let me know. Thank you for coming in this morning, Detective.”

  After Davidson had left, Captain Robertson said, “We still need to gather more evidence against Lieutenant Kruger. Hit the streets and find the suspect. Keep me informed of any new developments.”

  Buck and Kristie sat in the car down the street near the corner where Mason’s video had shown Kruger meeting the drug dealer on several occasions. It was 12:20 p.m. on a Thursday.

  “What’s the plan?” Kristie asked.

  “We’ll snap a few pictures of their meeting, and after Kruger leaves, we’ll follow the suspect. When the opportunity presents itself, we’ll grab him and take him back to the precinct for questioning.”

  Twelve thirty came and went, and neither the drug dealer nor Kruger showed. By one thirty, disappointed, they decided to call it quits.

  “I wonder what went wrong?’ Kristie asked.

  “If I had to guess, I’d say Kruger got suspicious after all your questions the other night.”

  “You could be right. Kruger did ask me if I was wearing a wire.”

  Buck paused, deep in thought. “Maybe he changed the meet spot or called it off.”

  Kristie frowned. “I find it hard to believe Kruger would stop taking his bribe money.”

  “I don’t think Kruger will stop taking the money. I think he’s either changed the location or the day they meet.”

  “How in hell are we going to find out if he did that?” Kristie asked sounding discouraged.

  “It may not be as hard as we think. We’ll do what Detective Mason did.”

  “Oh, and what’s that?”

  “We’ll follow Kruger.”

  At 9:48 a.m. the next morning, Buck and Kristie were staked out looking for the suspect when Buck’s cell phone rang. It was Captain Robertson.

  “Hello, Captain. What’s up?”

  “I’ve got another case for you and Detective Karlsson. Be in my office in thirty minutes. I’ll explain when you get here.”

  “We’re on our way. We’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  Buck hung up and started the car.

  “What was that all about?” Kristie asked.

  “Captain Robertson wants to see us immediately. She’s got another case for us.”

  “What kind of case?”

  “She said she’ll explain when we get there.”

  When they got to her office, Captain Robertson was on the phone. She motioned for them to take a seat.

  “Yes, sir,” she said, “they just arrived. We’ll get right on it. Goodbye, sir.” Robertson hung up and leaned forward. “That was the commissioner. First of all, congratulations, you’ve both been assigned to a new task force. The commissioner just received permission to create a Homicide Task Force to be known as HTF. Instead of working cases in your own precinct, you could be assigned cases in any part of the city.”

  Buck and Kristie glanced at one another, trying to absorb what they had just heard.

  Captain Robertson continued. “Now, getting back to the business at hand. We have a delicate situation. This morning a famous actor was found dead in his car behind the Broadway House Theater. You’ve been assigned the case as members of the HTF. Don’t screw up. The commissioner will be keeping a close eye on this one.”

  “What actor?” Buck asked.

  “Have you heard of Grant Peterson?”

  Excited, Kristie’s eyes lit up. “Yes,” she said, “I’m a huge fan. I’ve seen most of his movies. He’s a real hunk.”

  “I’ve seen a few of his movies,” Buck said. “He plays a lot of homicide detective roles and the tough, good guy in action-adventure films.”

  “That’s the guy,” Captain Robertson said. “Believe it or not, I’ve even seen a couple of his films myself.”

  “What was he doing in New York?” Buck asked.

  Before Captain Robertson could reply, Kristie jumped in. “I read all about him in a recent article in the New York Times. Peterson was born in New York. His parents were Polish immigrants. A few years ago they were killed in a car accident by a drunk driver. Peterson has no siblings. His real name was Stefan Bienkowski. He started out with bit parts on Broadway, got discovered by an agent who shopped him in Hollywood. His agent suggested a name change, and since he loved Carey Grant and Peter Sellers, he decided to change his name to Grant Peterson. Recently, he came to New York to play the lead role in a Broadway play called Murder on Broadway. He portrayed an NYPD homicide detective who with his female partner is assigned to solve the murder of a Broadway director. Peterson comes back periodically to do live theater. Apparently, live theater is his first love. Now that he’s a big star, he gets between fifteen and twenty million per movie. He’s married to movie actress Lauren McCarthy. They have two kids, a girl, and a boy, and live in a mansion in Beverly Hills. Peterson is a good friend of producer/director Marcus Tillman. Tillman wrote and is producing and directing the play. Tillman owns the Broadway House Theater.”

  Captain Robertson smiled. With a touch of sarcasm, she said, “Gosh, Kristie, you’re j
ust a wealth of information––a walking encyclopedia. It certainly can’t hurt to know as much about the victim as possible. Now all you have to do is go out and catch his killer.”

  Realizing she had rattled on too long, Kristie’s face flushed.

  “Kind of ironic, don’t you think?” Buck said. “In the play, Peterson was trying to solve a murder, and now he ends up a real-life murder victim himself.”

  “Very ironic,” Captain Robertson agreed.

  “By the way, Captain, what do you want us to do about the Dan Mason case?” asked Buck.

  “I’m sure you two are capable of working more than one case at a time. Right now I want you to get your butts over to the Broadway House Theater. The body of Grant Peterson was found in his car this morning parked behind the back entrance. I have two officers guarding the crime scene until you arrive. The CSU team has been dispatched, so you’d better get moving.”

  CHAPTER 8

  When they reached the Broadway House Theater, Buck parked next to a no-parking sign at the front entrance. Kristie opened the glove compartment and pulled out a sign that read “POLICE EMERGENCY,” and placed it on the dash.

  Buck rapped on the door, and a few minutes later, they were met by a middle-aged man who identified himself as Bart Hanley, the maintenance man. He ushered them through the theater to the back door and into a parking lot. A young officer with a name tag that read Reynolds stood in front of a sleek black Porsche that had been roped off with crime scene tape. A female African-American officer whose name tag read Morton stood next to Reynolds.

  Officers, I’m Detective Woods, and this is my partner, Detective Karlsson. We’ve been assigned the case.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Detectives,” both officers said.

  After shaking hands, Buck and Kristie completed the Crime Scene Log Sheet that Officer Reynolds had attached to a clipboard.

  “Do you know who discovered the body?” asked Kristie.