by Brian Meeks
“Hey, buddy, we’ll get it all figured out. Call Carol and stay here. Okay?”
“You got it, Mike! You can count on me. I’ll just keep myself busy...oh, and call Carol...I’ll do that now.”
Mike shut the door and walked towards the stairs. His thoughts turned to the major. He’d get the story from him in interrogation. He stopped at the lobby desk and borrowed the phone.
“Captain, I just heard. I’m coming in.”
“Yep, we got the son of a bitch. Well, your pal Henry did. Either way, he’s here, and he ain’t going nowhere.”
“Yes, but what about the leak?”
There was a long pause. “Maybe I was just being paranoid. It’s crazy to think one of the boys was in on it.”
“I hope you’re right. He’s a clever bastard. Best lock him down tight.”
Another pause. “I’ll have a couple guys keep an eye on him.”
“Good idea, Captain. I’ll be right down. I want first crack at him. Oh, and can you send someone around to the Flatiron building to give me a lift.”
“You got it.”
Mike hung up the phone, thanked the man behind the desk, and took a seat where he could see out the door for his ride.
A man, with a newspaper under his arm, sat down in the chair next to him and whispered, “I couldn’t help but overhear. You need a plumber?”
Mike looked at the wire-thin man and said, “No, why do you think I need a plumber?”
The man ran a hand over two days of growth and smiled. “I heard something about a leak.”
Mike laughed. “No, not that kind of leak.”
“My sister had a faucet drain that was leaking. A slow drip. It ruined the floor because she didn’t notice it. You best get it taken care of and fast.”
“Nothing wrong with the plumbing, mister, we just thought there might be someone in the department who...” Mike stopped. It wasn’t any of this guy’s business.
“Department, eh? You a fireman? I bet you guys get leaky hoses all the time. You drive the truck?”
Mike was a patient man but had grown tired of the conversation. He took out his badge and said, “I’m a detective. Who are you exactly?”
The man apologized. “Sorry, officer, er...detective. You guys in blue are heroes in my book. Tough job, solving crimes, and dangerous, too, I’d imagine. You working on any good cases?”
“Just caught a murdering scumbag.”
“Good for you. Who’d he kill? Was it in the papers? “
“It might have been. I’ve been too busy to read ‘em. I’ve got to go. My ride’s here.” Mike got up and walked out. He didn’t notice the man take out a notepad and pencil.
CHAPTER 87
“Hey, the captain wants to see you,” the sergeant said, pointing a pencil towards the captain’s office.
“I talked to him on the phone a few minutes ago. Where’s the major?” Mike asked.
“And I told him I’d send you over thirty seconds ago. Now, get.”
The usual collection of hookers, petty thieves, and scoundrels seemed subdued. Mike nodded at a few of the guys who were taking down statements. They glanced at him, smiled nervously, and looked away.
He cornered one of the rookies. “What’s going on?”
“Hey, Mike, I don’t know, but the captain just went ape.”
“Since when?”
“It just started,” he said, then looked up and darted away like he’d seen a ghost.
“Mike, get in here,” the captain’s voice boomed.
“Comin’ boss,” Mike said. He double-timed it into his office.
“Shut the door.”
“Gawd dammit, you were right. I should have been more careful.”
“What happened?”
“I got a call from the DA just after we talked. That bastard’s shyster is claiming false arrest and threatening a lawsuit if we don’t release him immediately. He says we don’t have enough to hold him.”
“What?! He’s a serial killer. Isn’t that enough?”
“That’s not the problem. How in the hell did his lawyer know he had been arrested?
“The leak.”
“Yep, so better get down there and rattle that guy’s cage because we ain’t got long to get a confession.”
“Or what?”
“This guy’s some socialite. Knows all the right people and that lawyer is going to make our lives miserable. If we can’t get a confession or some proof, and I mean fast, we’re going to have to let him go. At least...” the captain’s voice trailed off.
“At least what?”
“At least we kept it out of the papers that a serial killer was behind the murders. Now, get down there and make him talk.”
The phone rang. The captain grabbed it and yelled, “What?! I told you...er, sorry, Mayor...yes, we did catch him...yes, that’s his name.”
Mike got up and headed for the interrogation room. There wouldn’t be time for good cop or bad cop. He’d have to jump straight to huge, angry cop.
* * *
Celine knocked softly on the office door and said, “Henry, I’ve got Luna on the phone.”
Henry replied groggily, “Thanks. What time is it?”
“Ten o’clock on the dot.”
Henry picked up the phone. “Luna, we got him.”
“Henry, I was so worried. I stayed by the phone, but you didn’t call. I guess I fell asleep, but you should have called!”
“It got a little hairy, but he’s locked up now. You get any sleep?”
“I just said I did. Aren’t you listening?”
“Sorry, yeah, you said. I’m wiped out. I’ve got some loose ends to tie up, and then I’m taking a long break from this whole detective stuff. Want to go to a ballgame?”
Luna laughed and said, “I’m sorry I was so mad. You’ve been through a lot. I’d love to.”
“I’ve got to go. Someone is here.”
“When will you be home?”
“As soon as I can.”
“I’ll make dinner.”
“You’re a doll,” Henry said and hung up the phone.
Celine showed the man in and offered to get him some coffee. He declined and said, “Mr. Wood, I’m Roger Sweeny, a beat reporter with the Daily News.”
Henry stood and shook his hand. “I’m awfully busy.”
“I’ll be brief. You’ve had quite a year. That thing with Tommy ‘The Knife,’ well, that was front page news. I’ve spent the last couple of hours reading up on you.”
Henry decided not to fill the pause.
“Anyway, I wanted to know your take on the leak at your buddy Mike’s precinct.”
“No idea.”
“What can you tell me about the big case you’ve been working on?”
“I can’t tell you anything.”
“Can you tell me anything about the guy they’ve got locked up?”
“He’s a scumbag, and he’ll get what’s coming to him.”
“He a friend of yours?”
“No, I barely knew him.”
“So you knew the suspect?”
“I’m really not the guy to be talking to, and I’ve got to go. Anything else?”
“One more question. How well did you know the victim?”
“I only knew one of them, and we had just met.”
A smile crossed the man’s face as he flipped his notebook closed. If it were Buttons, Henry would think he’d just caught a mouse. It worried him. Henry didn’t bother standing when Roger left.
Henry pulled out his notebook and wrote down the reporter’s name.
“Celine, could you come in here, please?”
“Yes?”
“Could you get Francis Le Mange on the phone for me?”
“Sure thing.”
Francis was one of Henry’s oldest friends and the most widely read restaurant critic in New York. He knew everyone in the business. Henry’s gut told him that Roger was trouble. Before any baseball, he was going to find out what they guy w
as up to.
Celine, wearing her you should not have crossed me, face, stood in Henry’s doorway. Fatigue and a near certainty it wasn’t him who had put the expression there, helped him avoid an embarrassing flinch. “Yes?”
Celine huffed, “This guy,” pointing to the phone, “asked for you and refused to give me his name in a very rude way. So I don’t know who it is. May I tell him to get lost?”
“I’ll take the call...but I won’t be friendly.”
The bone chilling expression morphed into delight as she returned to her desk. Buttons followed her into the other room. The constant string of phone calls had interrupted his day’s scheduled naps. He was pretty much booked up all day.
“This is Henry.”
“Mr. Wood. I trust, being that you are a reasonably clever detective and having now fully earned the substantial fee I paid, you now know with whom you are speaking and see no need to mention my name over the phone.”
“I do, and I don’t but only because I have no idea what your name is. I am familiar with whom I am speaking, though,” Henry said. He matched the director’s arrogant tone and added, “I suspect there are few people who know your name.”
“Perhaps I shouldn’t have used ‘reasonably.’”
“No skin off my back.”
“I’m pleased to hear it. I don’t usually use the telephone as I’m cautious about the phones of others. One never knows when they might be bugged, not that you have such problems.”
“In fact, earlier this year I had a problem with bugs, but Buttons took care of it.”
“Buttons? You have a surveillance expert named Buttons?”
“Buttons is a cat, but he is also reasonably clever.”
There was a long pause as the director tried to determine if a small chortle was appropriate. He sensed he had missed the window and continued, “Regardless, I’m calling because I wanted to inform you that the job for which you were hired has been completed to my satisfaction.”
“I was wondering about that. The job sort of flew the coop this morning. I didn’t know if the pigeons had come home to roost. Since I wasn’t dead, I figured I had made some progress on the case.”
“The pigeons are en route, and all is well.”
“So that’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“Well, since our business is concluded, I’d like to say that I didn’t care much for you . At all, really. I’m not sure I believed any of that crap you fed me, but I hardly care, either. If you say the accounts are settled, then that’s good enough for me. I hope if you ever need my services again, you’ll consider my phone bugged. Get my drift?”
“Your opinion of me matters little. I can assure you when...or if our paths cross again, I’ll not be looking for a detective. Frankly, these matters are and have always been handled internally. This was an exception. So yes, I ‘get your drift.’ Good day Mr. Wood.”
The phone clicked off.
Celine bounced into the office. “That was fantastic.”
“Were you listening to the call?” Henry said, feigning shock.
“No, absolutely not, but I loved it. You completely out snottied him.”
Henry smiled. Celine was a gem.
CHAPTER 88
Mike walked into the interrogation room, reading from a file folder. He closed the door and said in an uninterested voice, “Doyle Worthy, is it?”
“Major Doyle Worthy III, and that’s all you’ll get. My lawyer is on his way.”
“So I’ve been told. So, you’ve been a successful businessman since you gave up on your military career? I guess you couldn’t fill your father’s shoes. Was that it?”
The major’s blank expression was taking some effort to maintain.
“I’ll just mark down that you weren’t smart enough to make it to lieutenant colonel. But, I’ll give you credit - you sure did pile up a bunch of money. Gives you some nice resources. How much did you pay Randolph Vance to do the difficult stuff?”
The faintest sounds of a leg releasing nervous energy could be heard from under the table. The expression remained neutral though Mike could almost hear the rebuttals rattling around in the major’s head. Mike gave him a smile. Not just any smile, but one of those sly, “I know something you don’t know” grins and it struck a deep blow. “Would you like to confess to the murders of Robert Ward, Jeff Whitman, Dwight Palmeroy, and the waitress, Edith Rollins?” His tone was casual, bordering on disinterested.
“I would not. I had...”
“I don’t care,” Mike said, closing the folder. “You can say whatever you like. Frankly, your whole game was tired and pedestrian. Henry solved most of the clues, and the last one was especially easy. Even I got it, and I ain’t the smartest knife in the drawer.”
“I think you mean the sharpest knife.”
“See what I mean? I’m new to being a detective, and I’d rather be working on catching some of the more...what’s the word...clever criminals.”
The major’s eyes flashed. “Listen here,” he started, but Mike stopped him with a hand.
“Oh, I meant no offense, buddy, but let’s be honest, you’re in way over your head. Henry’s too smart for you. You’ve been caught. We’ve got all sorts of evidence. The best lawyer in the city may be able to get you out of here today, but you’ll spend the rest of your life behind bars. You’re just another loser.”
“You insipid troglodyte, you’ve no idea the brilliance of my plan or what is in store for your precious friend.”
“As I said, I don’t really care.”
“Just wait, over the next...”
The door flew open, and a well dressed, graying man stepped through the door. “That’ll be all, detective. My client has no further comments, and we’d appreciate a moment to confer before we leave.”
Mike’s expression changed from disinterest to disgust as he was seconds away from listening to the Major confess. If his attorney had hit just one more red light on the way over, he’d have had him. Mike picked up the folder and grabbed the door handle. As he stepped through, he turned and asked, “Can I get either of you a cup of coffee?”
The lawyer said, “We won’t be here long enough to drink it.”
Mike wanted to punch a hole in a wall but kept his rage in check. He took two minutes and told the captain he had let him down. Before the captain could make him feel any worse about it, he left and went to his desk. He was reaching for the phone when it rang. It was a reporter and Mike told him to talk to the captain.
Mike never got calls from the press and was a little disoriented by the thought. He knew he had planned on doing something but couldn’t remember what it was at all. He sat motionless, save for the tapping of a pencil on a stack of folders. Nothing. Before he could recall what he had been planning on doing, another reporter, then another came through the front door and were both demanding to see the captain. The sergeant was used to these sorts of frontal assaults, but these two seemed more determined than most. A moment later, another came through the door. It was starting to get loud. People, both cops and criminals, were beginning to take notice and the normal volume of angst in the squad room had died down. Curiosity had trumped all.
The level of interest Mike had quickly faded, and he returned to being confused about what he had been thinking about before the call. He was just about to recall when two words, “Major Doyle,” floated above the rest. He looked and realized the press was on the story. The captain would lose his mind if the lawyer were to walk out with his client and have a small pack of willing ears to tell his story to. Had the leak called them?
Two more reporters busted through the doors, and Mike decided it was time to help the sergeant out before things got any more out of control. He gave a nod to a couple of the guys near him. They advanced en masse to quell the uprising. Just as Mike and his two wingmen arrived, the reporters started screaming questions. Mike didn’t understand what they were talking about until he realized Major Worthy and his attorney were behind hi
m.
Nothing could be done now. Pandora’s box was open.
CHAPTER 89
“I have no idea where the office is located,” 3 said with dismay.
“I can’t say I do, either, but we have the intersection and there are only four possible choices. We’ll figure it out,” Two said confidently.
“How?”
“Don’t you remember the course on emergency check-ins?”
“No. And why is this an emergency?”
“It isn’t as far as we’re concerned, but that’s where the director told us to go.”
3 considered this for a half block before asking, “Are you sure it’s safe?”
“Nope.”
“Since we’ve been partners, I’ve always been able to count on you to give it to me straight without any sugar coating. It’s been a rough week, and I’ve never liked that quality in you.”
Associate 2 smiled.
Three of the buildings on the corner had brass plates with the dates of their construction. The first one read “1908,” but it wasn’t the date that was of interest; it was the screws that held the plate in place. They were typical flathead screws, and he was looking for something a-typical. 3 had no idea what they were looking for and didn’t ask. The next building was no different, in that 2 scanned the plate and moved on. 3 followed.
“See here, the screws?”
Three looked at them. “I’ve never seen anything like them. Who has a screwdriver with a ‘Y’ tip?”
“We do.”
“Okay, so this is the building. It looks to be about a dozen stories high. What’s next?”
“We figure out the office number.”
Three showed as little interest in being given an emergency check-in tutorial as possible because he knew how much 2 loved giving them.
2 continued, “The top left screw indicates the floor. The tail of the ‘Y’ points to a clock number, which corresponds to the floor.”