Soft Case (Book 1 of the John Keegan Mystery Series) Read online

was dirty, but I didn’t have the time to take care of that. I half-sat, half-squatted. It was all I could do. No need to go into further details. Everyone knows how human bodily functions go. This was an explosive bodily function, and it near scared me. All that talk Rick gave me about my colon and the like had stuck in my head. He deserved a #2 pencil jammed in his neck, but fortunately for him, I didn’t have one on me.

  After I finished, I got up, buckled my pants, and walked out the door. The two teenagers seated in the comer were gone, and there was no sign of the other two. As I made my way up the stairs, a man in a McDonald’s swear came up.

  “What happened up here?” he asked.

  “I had to use the bathroom.”

  “I had four kids run out the door as soon as you came up here. Did anything happen?”

  I thought about opening the bathroom door to show him the broken crack pipe, but I figured he wouldn’t be able to survive the climate in there.

  “They were doing drugs in your bathroom. Perhaps you should consider putting a lock on it, and handing the key out from behind the counter.”

  “Who are you?”

  I flashed my badge.

  “Homicide? Someone die in there?”

  No, but it sure smelled like it. “I was just using your bathroom when I encountered them. You had better keep an eye on such things.”

  He nodded. Good boy.

  I walked down the stairs and out the front door. When I looked left, I saw the two kids who were sitting at the table, standing on the comer. When they saw me, they ran down the side street. It might have been fun, but I had Geiger to deal with that morning, and busting teenagers just wasn’t my job. A call to the Vice guys might help keep that place in control, I figured.

  When I got into the car, Rick said, “What happened in there? You try and steal a kid’s fries or something?”

  “Funny.”

  “No, seriously. I saw four kids run out of there like they had the fear of God put into them.”

  “Just a couple of punks who thought the bathroom was a crack house. No big deal.”

  “Shouldn’t you have called that in?”

  “Right, and deal with the paperwork while Geiger is waiting for us? And besides, if you thought there was trouble, why didn’t you go in and see what was going on, partner?”

  “I know you can handle yourself.”

  “Thanks for the concern.”

  This time, when we got to the station, we couldn’t avoid the media. There were about six reporters hanging around the front, and two of them had strategically placed themselves by the rear entrance. A lot of cops hate reporters. Some love them, love the attention. I fell in the middle. I really wasn’t an attention grabber, but I understood they had a job to do. As long as they went about it in a fair way, I didn’t have a problem. One time, however, a reporter from the New York Post misquoted me about a suspect. I had said we weren’t considering the person a suspect, he wrote that we were. I went straight to his office, caught him in the parking lot, and basically told him that I would give him a good look at his intestines if he ever did something like that again. The next day, right on the second page was a retraction of that comment. Other than that, I had no problems with the press.

  “We might as well face the music,” I said. “Let’s give those two over there a shot. Reward them for their smart work.”

  “Jesus,” Rick said, and pulled into the parking lot.

  We got out of the car, and one of the reporters walked over to us. I recognized him from the Daily News. Didn’t remember his name. He was about thirty-five, lanky, with thinning sand-colored hair. “Detective Keegan, Robbie Bryan, from The Daily News.”

  “Hi Robbie.”

  He nodded at Rick. “Detective Calhill. You guys are working on the Mullins investigation?”

  “We are.”

  “Any news?”

  “Not much, Robbie,” I said.

  “Care to make a comment about the investigation?”

  “Not really.”

  “Come on, give me something.”

  “Let’s just say that we will leave no stone unturned in finding out what happened to Mullins.”

  “Any interesting stones been unturned yet?”

  I laughed. “No, not yet.”

  “Thank you,” Robbie said. He jotted a few things down on a battered notepad. He walked away, toward the other guy, who was young, and appeared to be an intern, or a trainee. The other reporters, who were in front of the building, caught on, and started moving toward us, shouting questions as they approached.

  “Let’s get inside while the going’s good,” I said.

  “Good idea,” Rick replied.

  Geiger didn’twaiting for us in the hallway this time. We walked into the department, and into his office. He was on the phone, and looked stressed. He kept tapping his fingers on his desk. I didn’t see him do that too often. He motioned for us to sit down. We did.

  “I have them in here now,” he said into the phone, “Yes, I am aware of that. Of course. They know. Yes. I will. Don’t worry about that. We’ll do our job, and you do yours.”

  He hung up the phone.

  “Fucking disaster.”

  “What’s going on now?”

  “That was Agnelli again. For some reason, he wants this case closed. I told him you guys have to do a few more routine things, like he didn’t know that already. Pain in the ass.”

  We didn’t say anything.

  “Press catch you outside?”

  “I spoke to Robbie Bryan, from The News. Didn’t really tell him anything. Just said we would cover all bases, find the truth, that sort of thing.”

  “Okay, good. At least it doesn’t look like you are completely avoiding the press. Remember, Agnelli is going to watch the press closely, and will be on your ass for anything you say that he doesn’t think is appropriate.”

  “Great.”

  “Now, I’m not sold on this being a suicide any more than you two do.”

  “I never said I doubted it was a suicide,” I said.

  “Yeah, but I know what you are thinking. A few things don’t make sense here. And when a few things don’t make sense, there are usually a bunch more behind them.” He paused for a moment, and looked at a piece of paper. “This Chapman guy strikes me as strange.”

  “I don’t know much about him,” I said.

  “Neither do I,” Rick chimed in.

  “That’s what I don’t like. He avoided the public eye, compared to his partner, who seemed to be in the media on a weekly basis.”

  “Could be because he wasn’t as capable. Preferred to stay in the background and not make a fool of himself.”

  “Oh, he’s no fool. From what I hear, he’s a shrewd guy.”

  “You think he has something to hide?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. Possibly. But we’ll have to handle it carefully. I want information from him. Anything. But it’ll have to be something that we can sink our teeth into, so we can get Agnelli off our backs.”

  “We could always fabricate something.” Joke. Geiger didn’t laugh. Again, the audience thing. And timing too. I sucked at timing.

  Geiger looked directly at me. “Just get some information. If all he has to say is that his partner was depressed and a candidate for suicide, then so be it. But analyze what he says, and don’t let him smooth talk you. I’ve got the feeling he is good at that.”

  “So am I.”

  “Good.” He checked his watch. “Jacob is looking for you, so why don’t you go see him, find out more information on the car, if there is any, and then get to that press conference.”

  “Okay boss.” I realized that I had shut off the cell phone early, like an idiot.

  Jacob was busy munching on an egg sandwich when I walked into his office. The room smelled like eggs. Nice smell. He looked up at me when I walked in the room.

  “I tried calling you three times last night.” He sounded frustrated. He didn’t sound that way often.<
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  “I was busy.” Winning the Heavyweight title. I would have told Jacob because the geek in him would understand but didn’t want to seem so lax about the case. Jacob clearly liked Mullins.

  “That tape, I’ve been listening to it ever since you gave it to me. I’ve played it dozens of times,” Jacob said,

  “Find anything?” I asked, eager to make some ground on this case. I felt I had the whole world watching me on this one.

  “I think so. I did some analysis of it, against some audio of Mullins talking. It’s definitely him. I mean, that really wasn’t in question, but I had to check.” Jacob’s eyes darted back and forth as he spoke, something that took a little getting used to. At first, it weirded me out.

  “Okay,” I said, for lack of anything better.

  “And there’s something else.” He reached over to get his headphones. He handed them toward me. “Listen.”

  I put the headphones on. They were huge, and they blocked out all background sounds. Jacob could have yelled at me, and I wouldn’t hear it.

  Jacob popped the tape into the cassette player. Before he played it, he motioned for me to take the headphones off. I did.

  “I’m going to play you the very end of the tape, and focus on low sounds. Tell me what you hear.”

  I put the headphones on. The tape played. All the interference we heard when we played it in the car was gone, and I could hear the engine of Mullins’ car, I think, and other cars around. After about fifteen seconds, I heard what sounded like Mullins whispering, “Oh, my God.”

  I took the headphones off. “He said, ‘Oh, my God,’ I think.”

  “That’s what I heard.” Jacob said, nodding. “Not perfectly clear, but it came across that way to me.”

  “That happens right before the call gets cut