Keegan 00 Soft Case (3 page)

“He died from severe head and brain damage. Actually, he probably died a minute or so after impact. Tough to tell right now, but that’s how it seems.” That meant he suffered during that time.

“You testing for drugs, alcohol?” Rick asked.

“Have to. Should have results in a few minutes actually. Coltrain wanted me to do it for him, considering that I was doing all this work.” Bryan Coltrain was the city Medical Examiner, and he usually went through such tests. I was sure he would be on the way to the morgue, eagerly awaiting the body.

“Nice of you. Got anything else?”

“Well, his palms are cut up too, which would indicate that he covered himself before impact. Not sure what that means.”

“Could mean he didn’t mean to kill himself,” Rick said.

“Or, it could mean that this was an accident.”

“There were no skid marks, John,” Rick said, turning to look at me. “Didn’t I tell you that last night?”

I shook my head. I couldn’t remember.

Siebling looked down at the body and shook his head. “Forty-seven years old, and he had everything going for him. Amazing someone with so much would end it all, compared to someone who was down on his luck.”

“Maybe he was down on his luck, and we just don’t know it yet.”

“True.”

“Or, it could have just been an accident, or a heart attack. Seen that many times.”

“I see no evidence of coronary problems, but I’m sure Coltrain will investigate that.”

“How soon before you ship him off to the morgue.”

“They’re on their way now.”

We waited for a few minutes, with nothing else to say. Siebling went about preparing the body for the morgue, which basically consisted of putting it in a body bag. I guess a lot of people standing there looking at the dead body of a successful man would think of how fragile life was, and how Death can come knocking on your door at any moment. All I could think about was what I had just eaten, and how I didn’t want to taste it again.

An unattractive woman in a white lab coat walked in. She was about my age, with dirty blonde hair and had an awful complexion, the type you have to try not to stare at. Her body was more like a man’s than a woman’s - rail thin, with no breasts to speak of. Man, did I have to concentrate on keeping hold of that cheeseburger.

“Allison,” Siebling said, “meet the friendly members of the NYPD. Detectives Keegan, and…” Siebling looked awkward, not remembering Rick’s name. I wanted to laugh.

“Calhill,” Rick said, cordially extending his hand. She didn’t take it. I didn’t bother.

“I have the blood work.”

Siebling grabbed the folder from her hands. She just stood there, as if not knowing what to do. Certainly not someone who was comfortable around people - living ones at least. Siebling scanned the report, then looked up at us.

“Nothing. No alcohol, no drugs. Not even an antibiotic. His blood is clean.”

“Was clean,” I corrected him.

“Right. However you call it, his mind was clear of any chemical influence that we can tell. He was sober.”

“Then he knew what he was doing.”

“Or wasn’t trying to kill himself,” Rick said, “I’d have to get pretty wasted to go through with something like this.”

“Or he got cut off, and was driven into the embankment that way.”

“Uniforms said eyewitnesses didn’t see anyone but him on the road. Looked like he drove right into it.”

“Well, I think maybe we should take a look at that again.” Rick’s cell phone rang.

“Calhill,” he said, “Okay, you’ve got it? Got an address? Great. Thanks.”

Rick turned to me, and gestured toward the door. We walked over, and he whispered, “He called his mother. Talked for about a minute and a half. Long enough for her to know something, if anything.”

He looked excited again. I looked at my watch. “It’s almost eleven. Where does she live?”

“Long Island. Just past the Queens border. We could get there in about half an hour, tops, if we get moving.”

“Don’t you think maybe she’s here?” I asked.

Rick shook his head. “All attempts at getting her have been met with nothing but an answer machine.”

“Then she’s not home.”

“Or maybe she went out, and is on her way home. We might be able to catch her.”

“Did you ever think that maybe he got the machine too?”

“I’m almost hoping for it. And, if that’s the case, I want to hear what’s on the tape.”

“Could be nothing more than an audio suicide note.”

“Which would rule out the possibility of this being a random car accident, and put the case under Homicide. We can investigate from there.”

“I know the procedure, I just don’t want you getting all disappointed when you find out that your ‘big’ case is nothing more than a run of the mill suicide.”

“I doubt that, John. Really doubt it.”

I sighed. This was going to be a pain in the ass, dealing with Rick on this case. On top of that, I’d have the entire police department, the mayor, hell, possibly even the President, watching how we handled the case. Mullins had been a popular and well-liked guy. I’d seen him do an interview for one of those biography shows a few years back, and he’d seemed like a down to earth man, the kind I could respect. He wasn’t full of himself, like most corporate guys who made a windfall. But now, he was dead, and it was quickly becoming apparent to me that his death was going to make my life more difficult. I didn’t care for that one bit, and I really didn’t care for working with a butt sniffer like Rick Calhill, but these were the cards fate dealt me that evening, and I’d have to play them out to the end. Looked like I’d have to bluff my way with a busted straight.

“Let’s go,” I said, “No sense in keeping a soon-to-be mourning mother up any later than she has to be.”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Rick said.

We said our goodbyes to Siebling and the socially challenged Allison, who barely nodded when we did so. I tried to think that maybe there was a real woman trapped underneath that white coat somewhere, but I came up empty. That’s the way such things go, I suspect.

The drive to Valley Stream, where Mrs. Mullins lived, took 35 minutes. Rick actually leaned on his new car a bit, doing about 65 the whole way there, which is a lot for him. I sat in the passenger seat, watching the white lines go by, and thinking about the fact that I hadn’t had a cigarette in over an hour. Whether Mrs. Mullins liked it or not, I was smoking in her house. Unless she wanted to deal with a pissed off cop, she would comply.

Valley Stream was a pretty big town, for Long Island. I couldn’t stand the Island, or most of the people who lived there. The place was too quiet, and the people talked too much, probably to compensate. I grew up in Queens, which geographically wasn’t much different, but we city people feel real strong about the subtle differences between suburbanites and us.

Mrs. Mullins’ house was just off Merrick Road, pretty much the main drag through the town. Her house was a big colonial, painted a baby blue, with a screened-in porch and a huge front yard. Rick stopped the car in front of the house, and we sat there for a moment.

“No lights on,” he said.

“She’s probably not home.”

“We’ll see.”

We walked up to the porch, took our badges out, and I was about to ring the bell, when someone called to us. It was the neighbor to the left. Well, the left if you were facing the house. He was taking out his garbage.

“You the police?” he asked.

“Yep,” I replied, flashing him the badge, though from where he was, he might have not been able to see it.

“She’s not home. Doing a dig in the Andes, if I remember correctly. You’re here about her son, right? Shame.”

“We just need to speak with her,” Rick said.

“Real shame. Car accident, huh? Young man.” He shook his head. “You guys doing the investigation?”

“She leave any way to get into contact with her?”

“In the Andes? Not that I know of. You might want to ask her housekeeper. She comes here every morning around eleven. Keeps track of the place.”

“Got a name?”

“Roseanne, I think. Nice looking woman too. Like I said, she usually gets here around eleven.”

“You see her son around here recently?”

“Ron? No, he didn’t come around much. What, with his mother always running off to all parts of the world. She’s an archaeologist, you know. Jackie Minkoff. Ever hear of her?”

“No,” I replied.

“She’s real famous. Always on A&E.”

“What about her husband?”

“Died over ten years ago.” The neighbor started moving toward his house. “You sure you guys are cops?”

“As sure as we can be,” I said. I reached into my pocket and grabbed a cigarette.

“Oh, I just thought you would have known about that.”

“We don’t know much, yet.”

Rick whispered in my ear, “You want to officially question him?”

“For what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then there’s no reason to. We have more important things to do.” I looked back at the neighbor. “Thank you sir.” We walked back toward the car.

“Well, it looks like we’ll have to get a warrant for the house, get a hold of that tape. This way, we can get all the information we need tomorrow when we speak to the housekeeper.”

“Right. So you can take me home and we’ll get started on this first thing in the morning.”

“Don’t you want to go see Coltrain?”

“Not especially. Anything he gets isn’t going to change by the morning. I’m a lot easier to deal with when I get a good night’s sleep.”

“If that’s possible.”

I went to open the passenger door to the car, and Rick gave me a look. “You’re gonna finish that before you get in, right?” he asked, referring to the smoldering Marlboro danging from my mouth.

“For you, anything.” I flicked the cigarette into the street and got into the car. The ride back to the city was quiet, which I enjoyed. I got the feeling that quiet was a luxury I wouldn’t be able to enjoy for a while

Three

Sleep didn’t come too easily that night. The bed felt warm, and a slick layer of sweat formed on my body. The temperature in the room wasn’t too bad, but my mind was racing, taking my heart along for the ride. I wanted to get to sleep so I could leap forward to the morning. By then, the media would be all over the situation, most likely camped out in front of the precinct. I didn’t like that, but it excited me. I was about to be thrust into a huge media blitz, make television appearances, and possibly even get a spot on Letterman. Well, at least something like that.

When I got up, which was about 7AM, my head felt like one huge cloud. I hadn’t rested. The sleep I’d gotten had done more damage than good. I went through the morning procedure of showering, shaving, and getting into the last clean suit I had. It was a brown one, from Macy’s, made of a fairly expensive wool. The shirt I had didn’t go with the suit. It was a white oxford from The Gap, and the tie, a floral pattern my mother gave me years before, only worsened the situation. Still, I looked better than most of the bozos at the station, which wasn’t saying much, but comforted me nonetheless.

Rick called after I got dressed, and was waiting downstairs in a Mercury unmarked car at the comer. He was nice enough to have a black coffee and buttered roll waiting for me when I got into the car. He seemed chipper, which was a common state for him, only more so that morning, like he’d slept like a baby the night before. I hated him for that.

“Ready to roll?” he asked.

“As ready as I’m going to be.”

“Nice suit.”

“Wiseass.”

“No, I mean it.

“Just shut up and drive.”

We drove toward the station, through the morning traffic and drizzle. It wasn’t cold, maybe around 50, but there was a dampness to the air that ran right through you. I’m not a weather person, meaning that whether it is raining, sunny, or snowing, I am unaffected by what Mother Nature is doing. That day, however, the dreary weather got to me. Probably because I was tired and cranky, and I had Mr. Sunshine sitting next to me. Fun.

“I spoke to Coltrain late last night,” he said to me.

“Yeah.”

“No sign of a heart attack. No present illnesses. The man was of sound health.”

“Not surprising. It could still have been an accident of some sort.”

“I don’t think you believe that.”

“I don’t believe anything right now.” I didn’t.

“I also spoke with Geiger. He’ll be speaking to the judge first thing, to get that search warrant.”

“That would help.”

“You cranky today?”

“Not especially.”

Rick rolled his eyes. “This should be fun.”

“Have you heard anything about the wife, kids?”

“They were in the Bahamas. I believe they’re flying back today.”

“We might want to have a chat with Mrs. Mullins.”

“I figured that.”

We got to the station, and my premonition about a media frenzy was dead on. Rick averted them, pulled into the lot, and we entered through the back entrance, where said reporters didn’t think to park themselves. Before we got halfway down the hall, Geiger intercepted us.

“You two are in for a hell of a day. I’ve already heard from the mayor and several of Mullins’ people, wanting to make sure the case is handled by able men. Oh, and a few senators called, to express their interest.”

“How nice of them. Doubt it was anyone I voted for.”

“I thought you didn’t vote,” Rick said.

“Exactly.”

“I’m working on that warrant, and I want you guys reporting to me every hour on the hour. I want to be able to keep people abreast of what’s going on. Damn shame,” Geiger said.

“Yeah, really,” I replied.

We just stood there, almost as if we were offering a moment of silence for the deceased. It was uncomfortable. I fumbled with the change in my pocket.

“Well, I guess we should get to work, eh?” I said.

“Probably a good idea.” Geiger glared at me, as if to say my attitude better stay in check on this one. I never really had any problems with him, but he didn’t always appreciate my laconic wit. I never can find the right audience.

Rick and I made our way to our desks, and I checked my phone for messages. I had none. Rick seemed to be doing the same thing. He made a call. By the manner in which he spoke, I could tell it was his wife. She had him by the balls. He kept nodding and saying “okay” a lot. I wondered if she let him take his genitals out of the box she had them stored in when he had to go to work. I could hear it. “Please honey, all the other guys at work get to take theirs. I’ll look like an idiot not having mine.”