“What kind of name is Robin Redbreast for a pimp?” Dick asked.
“The kind that’s going to be pissed off,” said Jenny. “Let’s get her down.”
Bobby stood and made a circling motion in the air with his index finger which was an indication for medical examiners to remove the body.
“It’s hard to believe that someone was able to stage the body and not be seen,” said Dick.
“This is the Hill,” said Jenny. “That’s all you need to know.”
“Still ain’t right,” said Dick.
As we left the crime scene, Jenny asked, “Where are you guys headed?”
“Back to the office,” I responded. “We got a lot of work to do.”
“I wouldn’t go back there just yet,” said Jenny with a smile.
“Why shouldn’t we go back?” asked Dick.
"Because Fitzwarren is royally pissed at you," said Jenny. "What did you do this time?"
"We pissed off Henry Emperor," I said with a huge smile.
“When will you ever get tired of being the nonconformist?” asked Bookworm.
"Never," I said. "You should try it sometimes."
We all stopped short of the media horde on the other side of the police tape. Looking in Margery Daw's directions, I said, "Detectives Wren and Snooks will answer all of your questions."
Jenny gave Dick and me the finger as we slipped by the media horde.
Chapter 7
After pulling into the parking lot of GCPD, I asked Dick, "Are you ready to face the Fatman?"
"Let's go," said Dick with a smile. “He can’t be any worse than my old Sergeant Major.”
After entering the building, we walked past Sgt. Duke York, the desk sergeant, taking a report from a large bearded man. I stopped to listen while Dick went to the cubicle. If a crime happened in Goose City, it had my attention.
“What’s your address Mr. Bear?” asked Sgt. York.
“8672 Carrington Lane, Banbury Cross,” said Mr. Bear as he grew infuriated at Sgt. York's attitude.
“Please tell me what happened,” said Sgt. York.
"Ruffians entered our home while we were out for our midday stroll," said Mr. Bear. "As a matter of fact, they were still there when we returned."
"Can you describe these ruffians?" asked Sgt. York.
“My son got a good look at them,” said Mr. Bear as he motioned his son the front of the desk.
"Okay son, please give me the best description possible," said Sgt. York with a smile, hoping to put the little boy at ease.
Looking up at Sgt. York, the short chubby boy said, "It was a girl with curly blonde hair and a boy with raggedy clothes."
"Is that all?" asked Sgt. York.
"She was pretty," responded the chubby boy with a smile. “But the boy gave me three beans.”
“Beans?” enquired Sgt. York.
“Yeah, these three beans,” said the chubby boy, fishing them out of his pocket. He held the three dried red beans in the palm of his hand so Sgt. York could see them.
"Did you see a gun or knife?" asked Sgt. York.
"I think she was holding a gun," responded the boy as he looked down at his shoes.
"It must have been my Blunderbuss 50 revolver," said Mr. Bear. “She must have found the key to the lockbox in my nightstand drawer.”
"Was the weapon registered?" asked Sgt. York.
"Of course," said Mr. Bear. "What kind of man doesn't register his weapon?"
Sgt. York logged the information then asked, "What else was taken from your home Mr. Bear?"
"Here is a list of the items with their serial numbers," said Mr. Bear. "I also have pictures of the jewelry."
“Thank you," said Sgt. York, looking over the list. "I’ll give this information to the Pawn Unit. If she makes an attempt to pawn any of the items, they'll nab her”.
All this city need is another gun on the streets.
Chief Fitzwarren immediately called me into his office before I could get to my cubicle. Dick was already seated looking up at the ceiling. Fitzwarren sat behind his desk stuffing his face with burgers and fries from Robin and Richard, the best burger joint in Goose City.
In my opinion, Fitzwarren is the biggest cocksucker on this side of the Serenade River. His time was spent keeping the people of Gloucester, Banbury Cross, and St. Ives happy. Sometimes he acted as if the GCPD feel were the private security force for those rich bastards. Apparently his cocksucking got him elected chief of police for five terms.
“Detective Horner, why would you upset an outstanding citizen like Henry Emperor?” asked Fitzwarren before shoving a handful of fries into his fat face. “I got fuckin’ Mayor Heart breathing down my neck to make this right.”
“Because he’s a fat stupid rich prick,” I said.
Dick added, “He didn’t even do background checks to see if those guys were legit.”
“Regardless, he deserved the utmost respect,” said Chief Fitzwarren after wiping grease from the corners of his mouth. “I expect you to give this matter your utmost attention.”
“The case belongs to Detective Whittington,” I said angrily. “I don’t want anything else to do with Henry Emperor.”
“No,” said Chief Fitzwarren angrily. “You both are going to work this case. I want this solve before the end of the week.”
“What about the dead kid at the Well?” I asked, glaring at Fiztwarren. "You're asking me to put the murder of a kid on the backburner."
"I'm not asking, but ordering you," said Chief Fitzwarren, shaking a greasy finger at me. "You and Whittington will apologize to Mr. Emperor and solve his case."
"I'm sorry sir," I said, "That's one order I won't follow. This dead kid deserves my utmost attention not some fat rich prick who was too stupid enough to do a proper background check. Why should he get preferential treatment?"
“Then you can just leave your badge and gun,” said Fitzwarren as he leaned back in his chair.
I quickly removed my service piece from the hip holster and placed it on his desk. Reaching onto my hip, I removed my shield.
Before I could place my shield on Fitzwarren’s desk, Dick said, “I can work the Emperor case alone. That'll allow Detective Horner to concentrate on solving the kid’s murder.”
Fiztwarren looked at me and said, “You can’t do whatever the hell you want Horner! Now get the hell out of my office!”
I smiled at Fitzwarren and gladly left his office. However I felt bad for Dick.
"Detective Whittington, ensure that Mr. Emperor gets his apology first thing in the morning. Now, what are the particulars of the case?”
I slowly made my way back to the cubicle and flopped down in my chair. Turning my computer on, I ran Jack Wellington’s name. The kid was clean as a whistle. He was a three-year college student working at Old MacDonald's Organic Farm as a summer intern. He was a volunteer at the Babylon community center. What was he doing at the Well?
Dick finally made his way to the cubicle. Looking at him, I said, “Thanks.”
“Were you serious about giving up your shield?” asked Dick.
“Yes,” I said. “I was very serious.” Turning off my computer, I got up and headed out of the office.
“Where are you going?” asked Dick.
“I’m going to tell Mr. and Mrs. Wellington their son is dead,” I said.
“I’m coming,” said Dick as he got up and followed close behind.
In the hallway, we ran into a piss off Jenny and Bookworm. “Thanks a fuckin' lot,” said Jenny. “The next time you talk to Margery Daw.”
I smiled and blew Jenny a kiss.
Chapter 8
Every summer, for the last five years, Mr. East hosted the White Attire Revival Charity event at his home hoping to bring the plight of their neighbors in Babylon and Pippen Hill to the attention of his wealthy friends. Every socialite from St. Ives, Banbury Cross, and Gloucester attended the all-white summer attire gala. Most of the socialites that attended wanted to be seen and adm
ired while a few genuinely cared.
One of the richest men in Goose City, Mr. East, believed it was the duty of the "haves" to help "the have nots". In addition to his yearly college scholarship and Christmas goose giveaway, he built a new community center and new affordable housing in Babylon to reinforce his belief. Those he helped called him a savior, but he considered himself a man lucky enough to be able to help his fellow man.
Tall and well- built with chiseled features, Mr. East stood above his guests. He smoothly moved through the crowd and greeted his guests with a heartwarming smile.
“Welcome Dr. Fell,” said Mr. East as he came upon an older gentleman with graying hair and silver frame glasses.
"Thank you for inviting me,” said Dr. Fell as he gave Mr. East a hearty handshake.
“I hope I can count on your continued support,” said Mr. East as he patted the old man on the back. "By the way, where is the lovely Mrs. Fell?"
"She is feeling a bit under the weather,” said Dr. Fell before taking a sip of champagne.
“I hope she gets well soon,” said Mr. East with a smile.
“She has a cold. She'll be well in no time," said Dr. Fell.
"Well, she's in some of the most capable hands in Goose City," said Mr. East. "Now, please excuse me, I must greet more guest now."
The summer sun was beginning to set, painting the sky red, orange, and violet. The colors reflected nicely off of Mulberry Lake. The crowd mingled and danced as the DJ cranked up the music.
Mr. East continued making his way through the crowd until he came upon a handsome young man with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a remarkable physique talking with two equally beautiful young women.
“Bobby,” said Mr. East as he extended his hand. The young man named Bobby Shaftoe, turned and smiled, “Hello, Mr. East.”
He was the only child of Sir Victor and Dame Isabel Shaftoe, good friends of Mr. East. Being the only child, Bobby spent his days traveling the world and partying. He was the second most eligible bachelor in Goose City, with Mr. East being the first.
“I’m glad that you could make it this year,” said Mr. East. “If only we could get more young people involved we could turn things around.”
“I’m only here to give my parents’ regards to our gracious host,” said Bobby as he gave Mr. East a limp handshake. "If my parents hadn’t decided to go to Italy, I would be in the Caribbean now."
“Yes, both Italy and the Caribbean are nice this time of year,” said Mr. East, maintaining his congeniality. “And who are these two lovely ladies?”
“This is Nancy Dawson,” said Bobby, motioning to a tall, thin blonde woman with pouty lips and ample breasts. "And this is Elsie Marley." The tall, dark-haired woman smiled broadly at Mr. East.
“It’s my pleasure,” said Mr. East as he gently placed a kiss on each woman’s hand “My apologies for not recognizing two world class models.”
“I’m sure you got their yearly contribution,” said Bobby as he looked around for a server.
“Yes, once again they’ve blessed the Foundation with a substantial donation,” said Mr. East. "Their contribution will help change a lot of lives in Pippen Hill and Babylon."
Suddenly a female photographer appeared before Mr. East and Bobby Shaftoe asking to take a photo for The Socialite. “What is the topic of discussion?" ask the photographer. "And I didn’t know the fabulous Nancy Dawson and Elsie Marley would grace us with their presence.”
“We’re discussing the many ways the East Foundation has helped change the lives of those in the neighboring communities of Pippen Hill and Babylon,” said Mr. East with a smile. The photographer quickly snapped several photos then moved on.
“Mr. East that will be an epic undertaking,” said Bobby as he took a champagne glass off the tray of a passing server. “I wish you and your Foundation all the luck in the world.”
Smiling, Mr. East said, “I sense that you are not fond of….”
“You are right, Mr. East,” said Bobby abruptly. “I am not fond of your work or my parents making donations to help those in Pippen Hill and Babylon.”
Anger was an emotion Mr. East hadn’t experienced in years, but it surged in his belly the more Bobby Shaftoe spoke his disapproval of his work. “Why are you in opposition to the work of the Foundation?”
“If you continue to give to these people, they’ll never know the meaning of hard work or how to pull themselves out of the muck and mire,” said Bobby.
“And this is from someone who has never worked a day in his life,” said Mr. East, “or had to pull himself out of the muck and mire.” Elsie Marley giggled.
Angered, Bobby said, “I have given you my parents’ regard and have other business to attend to this evening. Enjoy your welfare Foundation." Bobby turned and quickly made his way through the crowd. Nancy quickly followed.
“I apologize,” said Mr. East. “It shouldn’t have come to that.”
“No need,” said Elsie. “I think what you are doing is admirable. I would like to hear more over dinner, perhaps.”
"I would love to tell your more about it,” said Mr. East with a smile. “I’m at the Foundation on Mondays and Wednesdays.”
Suddenly Nancy appeared and grabbed Elsie by the arm. “Come, we’re leaving.” Without giving Elsie a chance at a proper goodbye, she dragged her through the crowd.
Mr. East watched with a bit of disgust as the woman was dragged away, most likely against her will. Then someone touched him on the right shoulder. Mr. East turned to see Mayor Heart and his wife Elizabeth.
“George and Elizabeth, I’m so glad you could make it,” said Mr. East, flashing his trademark smile.
Chapter 9
Upon arriving at the Wellington’s palatial mansion in St. Ives, we discovered they were attending the yearly White Attire Revival Charity event in Gloucester at the home of Mr. East. He hosted the event to help bring about awareness of the dire situation in Pippen Hill and Babylon. All the rich people in Goose City would be in attendance.
I knew nothing of Mr. East except he created the East Foundation to help the poor people of Goose City. The media didn't cover the things the foundation did to help the poor people of Goose City. However, the media spent a lot of time covering a Henry Emperor boutique opening.
“I’ve been thinking about the case,” said Dick.
“Which case?” I asked as we crossed over into Gloucester from St. Ives.
“The Emperor’s case,” said Dick. “Where do I even begin with a case like that?”
“Check the files Lucy Locket gave to you,” I started, "Then talk to her again. Maybe she wasn't on the up and up in front of her boss.”
“Yes, the lovely Lucy Locket,” said Dick with a smile. “Now there's a real looker for you.”
“Yes, she is,” I said enthusiastically.
"Do I still have to apologize to Emperor?" Dick asked.
"Sure," I said, "just don't make it sincere."
Finally, we arrived at the expansive lakefront home of Mr. East. Yellow and blue lights bounced off the reflective exterior glass.
I pulled the Coachman up to the front door. It stood out like a sore thumb amongst the expensive cars parked on the front lawn.
“Let’s make ourselves presentable and mingle with the rich,” I said. We adjusted our ties and brushed the crumbs off our jackets.
Getting out of the car, I handed the keys to a valet. “Cool, a 1969 Coachman Stallion with a 550 V-10, dual exhaust.”
“You know your cars, son,” I said, giving the valet a serious look. “Yes sir,” said the valet with a smile as he got behind the wheel.
Dick bumped into a blonde male followed by two equally attractive females as we made our way inside.
"Watch where you're going commoner," the blonde male said after pushing Dick.
Before I could intervene, Dick had the blonde male face down on the ground. Both females screamed, “Get off of him! Let him go!”
“You just pushed an officer of the law,” g
rowled Dick, tightening his arm bar. The blonde male grimaced and cursed. “I’m a fucking Shaftoe! I will have your goddamn badge for this!”
“Is that supposed to frighten me?” asked Dick as placed a knee in the center of the blonde’s back. “I’ll get you for assaulting a police officer and send your ass to jail.”
The media would have a field day with this. I can see the headlines now: GCPD assaults a Shaftoe. I tapped Dick on the shoulder and said, “Get him up.”
Dick lifted the Shaftoe male off the ground in a not so nice way. A small security team quickly approached us. “Is there a problem gentlemen?” asked the security team leader.
“I’m Bobby Shaftoe. I was on my way home when this ruffian grabbed me and threw me to the ground,” said Bobby Shaftoe, sounding pitiful.
Pulling my badge, I said, “I’m Detective Jackson Horner of the GCDP and Mr. Shaftoe pushed Detective Whittington without provocation. I do believe Detective Whittington mentioned something about assaulting an officer of the law.”
The security team stepped back and Dick released Bobby Shaftoe.
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