New York City Murders

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New York City Murders Page 12

by W. D. Frolick


  “Don’t be a jackass,” Buck said with a look that could kill.

  He stared into Buck’s laser eyes and said, “Okay, okay. My name’s Ray Cooper.”

  “Let’s see some ID,” Kristie said.

  He pulled out his wallet and produced a driver’s license. It read “Raymond Donald Cooper” and the picture matched.

  Kristie held the license for several seconds while she memorized his home address.

  “I’m not the guy you’re lookin’ for.”

  “Maybe you are, and maybe you’re not,” Buck said.

  “Do you know a Lieutenant Karl Kruger at the NYPD?” asked Kristie.

  The question seemed to unnerve him. He hesitated. “No, the name doesn’t ring a bell. Should it?”

  “Are you sure?” Buck asked.

  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  Just then, a waitress appeared and asked, “Can I take your order?”

  “No, thanks,” Kristie said. “We’re on our way out.”

  As they stood to leave, Cooper said, “It’s been a slice. Have a good day, Detectives.”

  “Oh, we will,” Buck said. “I’m sure we’ll meet again real soon.”

  “I look forward to it,” Cooper said with a smirk.

  When she was seated in the car, Kristie took out her notebook and wrote down Raymond Cooper’s address. She showed it to Buck and asked, “Do you know where this is?”

  “Yeah, it’s not far from here. Let’s go check it out.”

  A half hour later they were back in the squad room. Captain Robertson came out of her office and asked, “How did you make out?”

  “We found the suspect and had a little chat with him in a restaurant. His name is Raymond Donald Cooper. He lives in an apartment building on West 238th in the Bronx,” Buck said. “He fits the description, and he has gray eyes like the suspect in the video.”

  “He sounds like our man, but we don’t want to arrest him just yet. We’ll need to gather more evidence.”

  “I agree,” Buck said. “We thought we’d let him cool his heels for a while and think about what we’re up to. When I asked him if he knew Lieutenant Kruger, he said he didn’t know him. I’m sure he lied.”

  “We’ve got a ton of circumstantial evidence. What we need to do is to solidify our case against Cooper as the shooter and link him to Kruger as the person ordering the hit on Mason. Here’s what we’re going to do.” Captain Robertson went on to outline her plan.

  CHAPTER 15

  That evening, after a long day, Kristie was curled up on the couch with a glass of wine and James Patterson’s latest novel.

  A knock came to the door. Kristie looked at her watch––8:52. It must be Buck, she thought. That’s funny, we’re both exhausted and agreed not to see each other tonight. Smiling, she placed the book and her reading glasses on the coffee table. At the door, Kristie looked through the peephole. Instantly, her smile faded. It was Kruger. He was holding a bouquet of red roses.

  Quietly, she returned to the couch, hoping he would leave.

  Another knock––louder this time.

  “Kristie, I know you’re in there. Please answer the door.”

  Damn! He knows I’m home.

  She went back, turned the deadbolt, and opened the door as far as the safety chain would allow.

  “What the hell do you want, Kruger?”

  “I brought a peace offering.” He smiled and held up the flowers.

  “You can take your peace offering and stick it where the sun doesn’t shine.”

  “C’mon, Kristie, open up. Be nice. I won’t bite.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “I’m still a top-notch detective. I’m good at detecting. When I went to your old apartment building, the manager was very cooperative when I flashed my badge. Did you forget? You gave him your new address in case he needed to forward mail to you.”

  Shit!

  Before Kristie could answer, without warning, like an NHL hockey player, he threw a bone-crunching body check at the door. The safety chain ripped out of the frame, and Kruger stumbled inside. He dropped the flowers, and his momentum carried him straight into Kristie. He stuck out his right hand and yanked her housecoat wide open, exposing her bare breasts.

  Kristie latched on to Kruger’s wrist and kicked him hard between the legs. He let out a primal scream like a tortured animal. Before he could respond, she spun him around and shoved his arm up high on his back. With her other arm wrapped tightly around his neck she pushed him forward into the corridor.

  Unknown to Kruger, in her early teens, Kristie’s father had enrolled her in self-defense courses. She had been trained in Shaolin Kempo Karate, a martial arts style that combines the Five Animals of Shaolin Kung Fu. Kempo has the hard-hitting explosiveness of traditional Karate, the power of Western boxing and the felling and grappling arts of Jujutsu, Chin Na, and Mongolian wrestling. Kristie had become a lethal weapon.

  “Get the hell out of here, Kruger, before I call the cops and have you charged with sexual assault,” Kristie screamed.

  She quickly slammed the door and slid the deadbolt into place.

  His throat sore and burning, Kruger managed a hoarse reply. “Go ahead and charge me. It’s your word against mine. Without any witnesses, who are they gonna believe, a decorated lieutenant or a rookie detective? This isn’t over. See you later, bitch.”

  “Not if I can help it!” Kristie yelled.

  Still fuming, Karlsson picked up the roses and threw them into the trash can under the kitchen sink.

  The next morning, in the squad room, after a restless sleep, Kristie was not her usual bubbly self. She was quiet and withdrawn.

  “What’s wrong? Is it something I said or did?” Buck asked.

  At first, Kristie seemed reluctant to speak. Finally, after more prompting, tears came to her eyes. “It’s not you, it’s Kruger. He paid me a visit last night. I think he was planning to rape me.”

  “That bastard! What happened?”

  Slowly, as Kristie began to explain, Buck’s face turned red with rage. When she had finished, he jumped up, grabbed his coat, ran down the stairs, and out the door.

  Too late for Buck to hear, she yelled, “Where are you going? Don’t go and do anything rash.”

  When he got to the 40th Precinct, Buck blew past Kruger’s secretary and stormed into his office.

  Kruger glanced up from the New York Times. Seeing it was Buck he sneered. “What an unpleasant surprise. What the fuck are you doing here, Buckley Boy?”

  “You know damn well what I’m doing here, you bastard.”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” Kruger lied.

  “Stay away from Kristie, you leach.”

  “My, my, Buckley, it sounds like you’re jealous. Don’t want anyone horning in on your sweet little piece of…”

  Before he could finish, Buck leaned over the desk, and with both hands, he grabbed Kruger’s shirt and hoisted him out of his chair. With their noses almost touching, Woods growled, “Leave Kristie alone or else.”

  “Or else what? Are you threatening me?” Kruger spat back.

  “Call it what you want, Kruger. If I catch you bothering her again, I’ll beat the living shit out of you,” Buck snarled.

  The commotion didn’t go unnoticed. A muscular detective sprang from his chair and came running into Kruger’s office.

  “Is everything okay, Lieutenant? Do you need any help?”

  “Everything’s good, Roy. Just a friendly disagreement. Nothing serious.”

  Buck released his hold on Kruger and pushed him back down. He turned, brushed past Roy, and left.

  At ten that same morning, Captain Robertson presented the circumstantial evidence to judge Clifton Emerson arguing that they had probable cause for tapping the cell and home phone of Raymond
Cooper. After reviewing the evidence, the judge agreed and granted a wiretap order.

  Within two days, Cooper’s phones had been successfully tapped, and Kristie and Buck began the tedious job of listening to and recording all of Raymond Cooper’s incoming and outgoing calls.

  The first twenty-four hours went by without anything of interest being recorded. On the second day, around ten in the morning, Cooper dialed a number from his cell phone, and a familiar voice answered.

  “Hello,” Kruger said.

  “It’s me. Something came up. I can’t meet you at our regular time. Is one thirty okay?”

  “That’s fine. See you then.”

  When they had hung up, Kristie said, “It sounds like Kruger’s meeting Cooper to get his pay off for this week.”

  “Why don’t I follow Kruger and see where he goes. I’ll try to get some good pictures of Cooper’s face.”

  “Okay, but be careful. I’ll hold the fort while you’re gone.”

  Kristie was back by two thirty with a smile on her face.

  “I took some great pictures. Cooper wasn’t wearing his hoodie. I even got a close-up of both of their faces. They met at their original meeting place.”

  Kristie showed Buck the pictures.

  “Good job, partner,” Buck said, “Let’s go show these pictures to the captain.”

  Captain Robertson was pleased when she viewed Kristie’s pictures.

  “It’s time to put part two of our plan into action,” she said.

  CHAPTER 16

  The next morning, they watched from the car as Cooper followed his routine and went into the restaurant. A few minutes later, they were sitting across from him.

  He looked up from his newspaper and asked, “What the hell do you want now?”

  “We need to have a little chat with you, Mr. Cooper,” Kristie said.

  “We need you to accompany us to the station house. There are a few things we’d like to show you,” Buck said.

  “I don’t think I want to go anywhere with you two.”

  “We can either do this the easy way or the hard way, it’s your choice,” Kristie said.

  “Are you arresting me for something?”

  “Of course not,” Buck said, “unless you want to confess to the murder of Detective Dan Mason.”

  “Detective who?” Cooper asked trying to look confused.

  “Detective Dan Mason, the narcotics cop you murdered,” Buck said, looking directly into Cooper’s eyes.

  Cooper laughed. “And why would I want to confess to something I didn’t do?”

  “To ease your guilty mind,” Kristie said with a half smile. “Are you coming peacefully, or do we have to cuff you and drag you out of here?”

  “As I said before, we want to show you a few things,” Buck said.

  “Okay, you win. You’ve got me curious. No need for bracelets, I’ll come peacefully.”

  Raymond Cooper cooled his heels in the interrogation room. He was sipping on a coffee that Kristie had brought him, trying his best to remain calm. An officer stood guard outside the door while Woods and Karlsson did some research. Before joining Cooper, they went to confer with Captain Robertson.

  “Did he give you any trouble?” she asked.

  “No, he came peacefully. I think he’s curious to see what we’re up to,” Kristie said.

  “Have you checked to see if he’s in the system?”

  “Yes,” Buck said. “Nothing came up. It looks like he’s clean. He’s in interrogation room one drinking coffee. When he’s done, I’d like to send the styrofoam cup over to forensics to see if his DNA matches the reefer butt found outside my condo building.”

  “Good idea. If it matches, we can place Cooper in the vicinity the night Detective Mason was murdered. Go ahead and have a chat with him. I’ll watch through the glass.”

  Taking seats opposite Cooper, Woods said, “We’re sorry for keeping you waiting. We just want to have a friendly chat. You are not under arrest, and you are free to leave at any time if you so desire.”

  Cooper seemed to relax. Buck obtained his agreement to record the interview and went through the usual formalities before asking his first question.

  “Mr. Cooper, do you own a 9mm handgun?” Buck asked.

  The question caught Cooper by surprise. He paused, stalling for time, then asked, “Why do you want to know that?”

  “Please answer the question, Mr. Cooper,” Buck said.

  “I…I don’t own a gun at all.”

  “Are you sure?” Buck asked.

  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  “Can I borrow your shoes?” Kristie asked.

  Once more, caught off guard, he asked, “Wha…what? Why do you want my shoes?”

  “We just need to check something,” Kristie said.

  Reluctantly Cooper pulled off his shoes and placed them on the table.

  “Excuse me for a minute,” Kristie said. She left the room and came back with a plaster cast of two shoeprints. She examined his shoes and compared them to the cast. “As you can see, Mr. Cooper, they match perfectly. How do you explain that?”

  “Where did you get my shoeprints?” Cooper asked, looking nervous and puzzled.

  “Outside the building where Detective Mason was murdered,” Buck said.

  “That…that don`t prove I killed anyone,” he said, sweat breaking out on his forehead.

  Buck turned on his laptop and played Cooper the security video that Hank Rogers had provided. When he saw the tattoo and his gray eyes staring at the camera, Cooper’s face turned ashen. Next, Buck played the video of all the meetings with Kruger and showed the pictures Kristie had taken with close-ups of his and Kruger’s face.

  “I thought you said you didn’t know Lieutenant Kruger, the man with you in these pictures. He sure as hell isn’t Santa Claus,” Buck said.

  “Okay, so I lied. Big deal. That doesn’t prove I killed anyone. And that video in the elevator doesn’t show the person’s face.”

  “Maybe it doesn’t,” Buck said, “but the shoeprints sure as hell prove you were in the vicinity the night Detective Mason was murdered. That’s a pretty huge coincidence, don’t you think? I’m sure a jury would find the circumstantial evidence more than sufficient to deliver a first-degree murder verdict. And the envelopes exchanged in the videos show you bribing Kruger to let you carry on pushing drugs without fear of being arrested.”

  “You can’t prove those envelopes had money in them.”

  “What else could they contain?” Kristie asked.

  “Maybe they contained cooking recipes or love letters,” Cooper said, laughing.

  “Very funny,” Buck said.

  “Are you arresting me?”

  “Not at this time we’re not,” Buck said.

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “You’re free to go if you wish,” Kristie said.

  Without another word, Cooper jumped to his feet and headed for the door. Once he was gone, Buck and Kristie met with Captain Robertson in her office.

  “That worked out well,” the captain said.

  “Yeah, I think he’s running scared. Hopefully, he’ll do exactly what we want him to do,” Buck said.

  “Let’s pray he does,” Captain Robertson said.

  CHAPTER 17

  A block from the precinct, Cooper stopped and dialed a number on his cell phone.

  Seeing Cooper`s number on his screen, Kruger said, “What’s up?”

  “The cops brought me in for questioning. I’m surprised they didn’t arrest me. You can’t see my face, but they’ve got a video of me in the building, and they’ve got videos and pictures of you and me meeting on the street.”

  “Shit! You’re a fucking idiot! Don’t say another word. They could have our phones bugged. Meet me you know where in one hour.”

&
nbsp; After hanging up, Kruger pulled a burner phone from the middle drawer of his desk and dialed.

  “Yeah,” a gruff voice said.

  “I’ve got a job for you.”

  After listening to the conversation between Cooper and Kruger, Buck frowned. He turned to Kristie and asked, “Where the hell is you know where?”

  “If I had to take an educated guess, I’d say it’s on the same street corner where they usually meet.”

  “You could be right. As far as we know, Kruger never met Cooper in the restaurant.”

  “Let`s get the hell over there and arrest their asses,” Kristie said. “Their conversation gives us the additional evidence we need.”

  “Not so fast,” Buck said. “Let’s wait until we get the DNA results from the coffee cup. If it matches the butt, that should give us enough evidence to arrest Cooper. I’d like to pressure him into fingering Kruger as the person ordering the hit on Mason. That way we’ll have what we need to put them both away for life.”

  “Good thinking. I never thought about that.”

  Buck laughed. “That’s why you’re the rookie, and I’m the old pro. Just kidding. Let’s get our asses over there.”

  Right on time, an hour later, they watched from the car as Cooper arrived. He stood hunched over his hood pulled up, hands in his pockets, trying to stay warm from the strong wind and biting cold. Ten minutes went by, and there was no sign of Kruger.

  Buck and Kristie were engrossed in conversation and didn’t notice a man walk up to Cooper. With his back to Buck and Kristie, he pulled out a pistol and fired three times. As Raymond Cooper crumpled to the sidewalk, a black SUV with tinted windows squealed to a stop. The shooter jumped in, and the vehicle took off, leaving a smoking trail of rubber marks on the dry pavement.

  “Holy shit! Did you see that?” Buck yelled.

  “Yeah, I did. What the hell’s going on?”

  “Kruger’s going on! Now we know why he didn’t show. He put a hit out on Cooper,” Buck said. “Kruger knew we were getting close to arresting Cooper, and he didn’t want Cooper fingering him for the hit on Mason.”

 

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