Keegan 00 Soft Case (23 page)

“Okay. So what do we do?”

“That all depends on you.”

“I’m listening.” As soon as I finished that word, someone knocked on the door.

“What?” Geiger asked.

“You’ve got the Commissioner on line two,” a man said. It sounded like Peters. I thought about taking my reserve gun out and blasting him right through the door. Then again, if I was wrong, I’d pull a Hamlet, to make a literary reference. Okay, so I read. But I don’t want anyone knowing that.

“I’ve got to take this call, John. Do me a favor and lay low for the rest of the day. We’ll get to work tomorrow.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Of course I wasn’t going to lay low. I was on fire, and I wanted to gather as much information as possible. I wasn’t going to tell any of the people who said they were going to help me about each other, and see who delivered. I knew my uncle would come through, Rick would try, and I hoped Geiger would as well. I thought he would. Well, he seemed like he wanted to help. I guess I should just leave it at that.

I slept horribly that night, reminding me of the short time I lived with my ex-girlfriend. I never slept when she was in the bed. She gave off too much heat. I felt hot that night as well, and was afraid to open my eyes the next morning, for fear that she would be snuggled up next to me. That would have been a nightmare. Luckily, when I did open my eyes, I was alone in bed the way I like it.

My head felt fuzzy, not an abnormal occurrence, and my stomach was a bit queasy. It was like a huge hangover, what I was feeling, but I hadn’t drank enough to warrant that. It was my mind, I knew that, and I was pissed off that I’d let what was going on get to me. I’d normally let things slide off me, basically because I didn’t care enough to let them bother me. This was different of course, but in the back of my mind I knew things would somehow work out. I might sound like the epitome of a pessimist, but I always had faith that things would end up okay. You might even say that I was an optimist. I’d say that I think the glass has water in it; I don’t give a damn if it is half empty or half full.

I wanted to jump right into what I wanted to do. It might help if you know what that is. You see, I knew someone was behind all of this, and I had become certain that Mullins didn’t commit suicide. I had my doubts earlier in the investigation, but at this time, I was sure. Someone had killed him, and more than one person had a lot to gain from his death. Which one of them was the culprit? I knew Chapman had something to do with it. He just seemed too seedy to me to not have something to do with it. Sure, he might not have had a lot to gain with the will and all that, but he did have an angle. He was the one I wanted to find more out about. Then, I had Sondra to consider. I didn’t want to consider her, but I really didn’t have a choice. I found her attractive, without question, but attractive women did me more harm than good in my life. I had to believe she was most likely going to continue that trend. She had a lot to gain from the death of her husband, possibly more than anyone else. She also had the most to lose by the death being a suicide, so that worked in her favor too. I also had Steve to think about, the ever-friendly security guard who made me suspicious every time I spoke to him. Then there was a long list of employees, all of whom I didn’t suspect with any real conviction, which made all of them even more suspicious. It was always the one you thought of last.

Which brought me to myself. No, of course I didn’t kill Mullins, but if he were alive right then, I would have, for all the trouble he’d indirectly caused me. My life had been thrown upside down, and though I tried to keep a positive perspective, I really couldn’t see a way out of the situation I was in. One solution was to drink my way out of it, a solution I had used several times before, but I didn’t really feel like drinking so early in the morning. Nothing good ever comes from that.

So, here was my plan. I was going to get whatever equipment Uncle Paul could supply me, and keep an eye on Chapman and Sondra, to see if either one of them did anything that would point me in the right direction. I probably was going to come up empty, but I had to do something. It didn’t seem like the department was going to investigate the case any further, and my future there was uncertain at best. I didn’t care. I figured my career was over. With a suspension on my record, and an ugly departure coming, my future in law enforcement didn’t seem so bright.

I got dressed, and walked into the kitchen. I had nothing to eat, which wasn’t much of a surprise. I couldn’t remember the last time I went food shopping. Probably over a month, at least. Thankfully, I had cigarettes, so I lit one, and stood in the kitchen, waiting for something to happen.

Nothing did.

I guess I shouldn’t have expected the phone to start ringing off the hook. Uncle Paul had his hands full, and he would probably deliver for me on Monday. Geiger was off, and Rick was busy pretending like he was sick. So, instead of waiting around any longer for something to happen, I went downstairs to the garage, and got into Mom’s Cadillac. Destination unknown.

Eighteen

I headed out to Long Island, if only to take a leisurely drive. There’s nowhere to do such a thing in Manhattan, and I thought maybe I would stop by my parents’ house for a little parental comfort. There were no answers there, but at least I could escape from my problems for a little while.

On the way there, I changed my mind. As nice as it would have been to eat a good meal and talk to the family, it wasn’t going to do me any real good. I needed to clear a few things up first, and the only way to do that was to go see Sondra. I didn’t know what I was going to find, but I figured I might be able to get something out of her. If I could rule her out as a suspect, which was a long shot at best, I could then focus everything on Chapman. Maybe she knew something that could point me in that direction.

I knew right then that I would have to play hardball.

It took me almost an hour in Saturday traffic to get to Massapequa. Every asshole with a driver’s license was on the Southern State Parkway, and most likely a few others without a license. I couldn’t stand it. It wasn’t a particularly nice day, and I couldn’t fathom a reason why the parkway would be so jammed on a Saturday at 10am. Then again, that’s usually when the parkway was jammed, when you couldn’t figure out a reason for it to be.

I drove up to the Mullins residence, and decided to stay a few houses away before going in. I guess you could say I got a little nervous. After all, if I got caught carrying on an investigation while under suspension, I was in deep shit. Okay, so I was already in deep shit, but I really didn’t feel like shoveling some more on top of myself. I had to be smart. I could go in to speak to Sondra on a personal level. There was no law against that, but then I wouldn’t be able to ask too many questions. In essence, I would be wasting my time. No, I had to go for broke. I had to squeeze her for every ounce of information she had. Then maybe do a little more squeezing of a different variety.

That was only if things went really well.

You can stop laughing at me now.

I guess it took me a solid fifteen minutes before I pulled up to the gate of the Mullins residence. I felt like a jackass pulling up to a house like that with such a tacky car. I felt like a pimp. Probably looked like one too.

I pressed the button by the gate.

“Mullins residence.” The voice wasn’t Steve’s this time.

“Detective Keegan to see Mrs. Mullins.”

There was a short pause. The gates opened. I drove slowly up to the front of the house, threw my cigarette out the window, and got out of the car. I was dressed casually, in jeans, a white shirt, and a pair of tan loafers. I felt like a civilian, and hated it.

A burly brown-haired man came from the front door to greet me. He was dressed similar to the way Steve was, in tan pants and a white polo shirt. I figured that was the Mullins security uniform.

“Mrs. Mullins is playing tennis right now. I’ll take you over there if you like, Detective Keegan.”

“That’d be fine.”

We walked around the side of the house and came to the tennis court where Sondra, dressed in a short skirt and a white sweater, was returning balls from a machine. She had a spring to her stride and a…um…bounce as well. It was nice.

“Where’s Steve?” I asked.

“He’s off for the week.”

“Are you the other one, the one who was sick last week?”

“Yes. Name’s George.”

He extended a thick hand. I shook it. His grip was like a vise.

“Well, George, I would appreciate it if you could get me the video tape for Monday and Tuesday if it’s not too much trouble. I’m sure Steve told you about it.”

He seemed to think about that for a moment.

“He didn’t. But as long as Mrs. Mullins doesn’t have a problem with it.”

“I appreciate your help.”

“No problem.” George was a nice guy. Dumb as a stump perhaps, but a nice guy regardless. We walked over to the fence, and Sondra noticed us standing there. She motioned for one of her people to stop the machine, and walked over.

“How nice to see you, Detective Keegan.”

“Hello Sondra. Do you have a minute?”

“Of course. Let me just get cleaned up. I’ll meet you in the sitting room.” She was sweating, and I would have preferred she stay that way. I liked women with a little sweat, especially if I was the one who caused them to get that way. Of course, that didn’t happen too often, so I had to savor it.

“Okay.”

I was waiting in the sitting room for about ten minutes when Sondra walked into the room, wearing a pair of black slacks and a button down purple shirt. She had a generous amount of buttons open, giving me just a peek at heaven. She sat down in the chair across from me, went to her cedar box of cigarettes and lit one. This was becoming standard procedure. She lights a cigarette while I stare at her tits. I could deal with that.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“Well, I was hoping that you’d have some news for me.”

“What sort of news?”

“Anything. Has anyone come to talk to you?”

“Well, I’m sure you know your partner came down yesterday.” Of course I didn’t.

“Okay. I didn’t. I’ve been out of the office for a day or two on personal business. What did he have to say?”

“Nothing much. He wanted to know if I had any other information, and then he asked for copies of the will and anything else pertaining to the estate.”

“Did you give that to him?”

“Well, I didn’t have everything he needed. My lawyer is going to fax me the rest.”

“How did he look?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he hasn’t been feeling very well. Actually missed a day of work. Did he look sick?”

“He didn’t seem to.”

“Did he come alone?” I asked.

“He had another man with him. A tall, thin man. Looked to be a bit older, say in his fifties.” That was probably Peters.

“You catch a name?”

“No. I don’t remember. I do know that he was a sergeant, I think.”

Definitely Peters, the scumbag.

“What was their overall tone?”

“Well, they seemed to be in a hurry. The other guy didn’t say too much. He just kept looking at me. Why are you asking me all of this?”

“Well, Sondra, I have to be honest with you. Some strange things are going on. I guess you could say the department is split on how to handle this case.”

Sondra leaned forward in her chair. “You mean whether or not it should be considered a suicide or a murder?”

“Something like that.”

“No, you mean something other than that, I can tell.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. This is about me, isn’t it?”

“Not necessarily.”

I should have known better. I walked right into this. I didn’t want to get her suspicions up, because then, more than likely, she would clam up and I would get nothing out of her.

“Then who is it about?”

“It’s about everyone. Your husband was an important man to this city and, because of that, everyone comes under suspicion. When you have so many suspects to deal with, handling the case becomes almost impossible. On top of that, you have everyone involved with the case coming up with his or her own theories and ideas on how to handle it. It is a nightmare.”

This didn’t seem to settle her too much.

“I’m being considered a suspect, aren’t I?”

“Everyone is.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

Now, I couldn’t just come out and tell her that the department was looking to frame her, because I would do nothing but get myself into trouble by doing so. Plus, I couldn’t count on the fact that she would trust me above Rick and the rest of the department. They were working behind my back. That hurt, but it pissed me off more than anything else. I tended to do irrational things when I got pissed off, so I tried to forget about them and put all my effort into finding the solution to the case.

“Well, yes, you are being considered a suspect, but you have a rock-solid alibi, and I can’t say that you have a strong motive either.”

“I’ve heard stories where the police create a motive. Is that what you came here to do?”

“Not at all. I just need information.”

“Information that you’ll use against me?”

I was in trouble, and sinking fast.

“Listen, I came here to get information to help you, not hurt you. I personally don’t think you had anything to do with your husband’s death. But I’ll need information to help prove that. I want to know who killed your husband and I want to bring them to justice.”

“That sounds nice, but I don’t know if I trust you.”

“You don’t have to trust me. You just have to tell me the truth.”

“About what?”

“About everything.”

“Like?”

“First of all, tell me everything you know about your husband’s relationship with Harold Chapman.”

“I told you everything the first time you were here.”

“Tell me again, and try and remember everything you think might be important to this case.”

“You think Harold Chapman might be involved with this?” “Like I said, everyone is a suspect.”