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

  Geiger was in his office, on the phone as usual. I figured he talked to someone about getting the warrant. He made eye contact with me, and nodded his head—my indication that things went well. Geiger always came through when needed. That’s how he got the respect of his men. That, and the fact that he never asked anyone to do something he wouldn’t do himself. I didn’t know too many people like that.

  Besides Rick, those two were the only other ones in the department. It was quiet. We all knew the media waited outside for any of us to walk out. It wouldn’t be long before the Captain paid us a visit, and gave us his usual speech about dotting our “I’s” and crossing our “T’s.” Nobody listened, but he felt the need to go through the whole thing any time we had a high profile case. He was more concerned about what the Mayor thought than anything else.

  As if on cue, Captain Agnelli walked through the double doors into the department. He didn’t acknowledge anyone in the department, and went straight to Geiger’s office. Agnelli was a tall, thin man, who looked more British than he did Italian. He had jet-black hair, dyed for sure, and stood at about 6'4". He was a smart guy, graduate degree and all that. The story went that he worked hard at making it to Captain, starting off in the Bronx, and moving to undercover Vice before getting the gold badge. From there, he set records for indictments, and had a good relationship with the DA. Agnelli was about 50, but looked younger because of the dyed hair and his baby face. The face had a roundness to it that made him look almost like a cartoon. He didn’t talk much and had a deeper voice than one would expect from the face. He always looked impeccably clean.

  Guess what? I didn’t like him.

  I watched as Agnelli and Geiger talked for a few moments. I pretended to be on the phone when they looked my way. They never looked at Rick, who was busy doing something. God knows what. They kept looking at me, and Agnelli looked stressed at the fact that I was on the case. It might have been too obvious to everyone in the department that I didn’t really care where my career headed. Content people bother eager people. They can’t understand why someone doesn’t want to move up and become the boss. I had no such desire. Give me my cases, let me do my work, and hand me my paycheck every two weeks. You’d think that people would be happy with that.

  Rick noticed the stares I got and smirked at me when he looked up from a stack of paperwork. Wiseass. I had to laugh though. I just hoped Agnelli didn’t see it. When I looked back at them, Geiger gestured for me to come to the office. I hung up the dead phone, went to the cart to get a cup of coffee, and walked into Geiger’s office.

  “Keegan,” Geiger said, slightly distressed. He never hid that he didn’t enjoy it when Agnelli came into his department. The two had a personality conflict. Agnelli worried and tried to give his advice and two cents. Geiger went about his business without saying much, and didn’t like being told how to do something. They had a big argument about two years ago and, if I kept score, Geiger won, but the record books didn’t show that. You can’t win a battle with a superior.

  “Good morning,” I said, taking a sip of coffee. “Captain,” I said, nodding toward Agnelli and raising my cup.

  “Detective,” Agnelli replied, without the nod.

  “I need you to be careful on this one, John. A lot of people will be watching all of us and, most likely, you will be investigating this case on TV, if you know what I mean.”

  I nodded.

  “I spoke to the mayor today,” Agnelli said. “He’s upset at the loss of Mullins. Turns out they were pretty good friends. He wants everything covered. He wants to be updated every day, and more often, if necessary. I don’t like having such a responsibility; sure you don’t either.” Agnelli was actually being human, almost taking me off guard. “If you want to drop the case, I understand. It won’t be easy.” That last bit caught my attention. Did he not want me on the case for other reasons?

  “I’ve already done a lot of work.” I lied. “I don’t want to throw in the towel now.”

  “That’s fine,” Agnelli said. His face said otherwise. I noticed his bushy eyebrows. I’d never really noticed them before. They looked ridiculous. I almost laughed.

  “Keegan’s the man for the job. He and Calhill got an early start last night,” Geiger said. He had my back.

  “What have you got so far?” Agnelli asked. “Look like a suicide?”

  “Tough to tell. Some of the evidence, so far, points to that, but I find it hard to believe. It wasn’t like he was down on his luck.”

  “I knew the man. I agree with you there. Just be careful. Don’t come to any hard conclusions without checking everything.”

  Like I didn’t know that. “Of course not, Captain. If you’d like, I’ll discuss any new developments with you.”

  He shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. I’m going to be real busy on some work for the Mayor. Just keep Geiger posted, and I’ll speak to him.”

  “Okay.” I took another sip of coffee, waiting for the next battery of questions. God, I hated these meetings.

  “I’ll have the warrant for you by 9:15. Rick told me the housekeeper gets there at eleven. Go then.”

  “Wouldn’t it be a good idea to get there before that?” I asked.

  “Why,” Agnelli asked.

  “Well, this might be stretching things a bit, but, if there was foul play involved, and if someone gets a hold of the housekeeper, she might get rid of things we’d be interested in.”

  “At the mother’s house? I doubt it.”

  “So do I. But I’d rather be careful. I don’t want anyone making this more difficult on us than it has to be,” I said.

  “And I don’t want this to be a forceful investigation. We’re treading on fragile ground here.” Agnelli thought for a second. I wondered if it strained him. “I’ll tell you what. Get there for 10:30. This way you can greet her at the door, and she won’t have an opportunity to do anything. I just don’t want you barging into an innocent woman’s house. You’re really only there to get the tape.” I nodded. “I doubt there’s anything else there. Get the tape, and make sure Geiger gets the scoop.”

  “I will.”

  With that, Agnelli said his goodbyes and made his way back to the Ivory Tower he thought he resided in. Geiger looked at me and rolled his eyes.

  “Just be careful, alright John?”

  “Yeah, no problem.”

  “To be honest, I’m happy you’re on the case. You and Rick will complement each other well.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I said.

  “You know what I mean.” He sighed. “I want this to end quickly, but be sure of yourself. Take the time you need, and avoid the press like the plague.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “It will be. And they’ve probably dug up both of your records already,” Geiger said.

  “Mine’s clean.”

  “I know it is. But you know how they can interpret things.”

  “I have my share of indictments.”

  “So does Calhill. But still, just watch yourself. Try not to go to your local haunts. Don’t be so easily found, if you know what I mean.”

  “I don’t think that matters,” I said. Translation: I didn’t want to be told where to go.

  “I’m asking, okay?” Geiger didn’t ask often.

  “Alright.” Shit. Where could I go if not Kasey’s? The simplicity of my life hit me right then. Essentially, I was a loser.

  “Thank you. I’ll get you the warrant as soon as possible.”

  “Great,” I said.

  No more than a second after my ass hit my chair, Rick made his way over. His eyes were wide, and he half-smiled, like he got a kick out of the fact that I just got grilled, but worried that it might have some implications for him.

  “Everything’s fine, don’t worry,” I said.

  “I didn’t think it wasn’t okay.”

  “Sure you did. You played with yourself at the thought I was getting grilled.” I looked at his hands. “You
clean up at least?”

  Rick shrugged that off. Such comments unnerved him. I always wondered why some people got so easily bothered. “What did they say?” he asked.

  “Usual bullshit. Agnelli wanted to let me know how important the case was, and Geiger just wants us to be careful.”

  “Agnelli’s gonna have a pipe up his ass with this one.”

  “He can’t fit another pipe up his ass.”

  “He’s gonna be on top of us,” Rick said.

  “You wanted this case, if you remember. Just listen to me, and we’ll be fine.” That didn’t seem to calm him at all. Not that I expected it would.

  “When do we get the warrant?”

  I looked at my watch. “About half an hour. We’ll go to the house around ten, and wait for the housekeeper. I don’t want her touching anything before we get there.”

  “We going in the house before she gets there?”

  I shook my head. “That plan was shot down by the higher ups. We wait for the housekeeper. Keep it low-profile.”

  “This should be interesting.”

  “For sure.”

  Four

  Geiger got us the warrant ten minutes earlier than expected. We got into the squad car, dragged through midtown morning traffic, and got on the LIE. Luckily, we went against the traffic. We cruised to the island, and Rick actually broke 70 on the way. Impressive, Ricky. I was also happy because I could smoke in the unmarked car. Rick didn’t like it, but he knew better than to say anything. I smoked three on the way there, and we kept the conversations to a minimum. For that small moment in time, life was actually pretty good.

  The rain picked up by the time we got to the house, contrary to the weather man who came on the radio and said we should see a clearing before eleven. Weathermen. No other words needed.

  No new cars were in the driveway, or in front of the house. I glanced at the neighbor’s house, and saw him pull the shades back to take a look at us. He probably got on the phone with one of the other neighbors to talk about our presence. He struck me as the gossipy type.

  I lit another cigarette, this time drawing a sigh from Rick.

  “You should just go to the hospital and get a cancerous lung transplanted. Save you a lot of time and money.”

  “Nah. I want the full experience.”

  Despite the rain, Rick opened his window. I smiled.

  “You enjoy this, don’t you?” he said, clearly aggravated.

  “Smoking? Yes, I do.”

  “I think you do it to piss me off.”

  “I don’t put that much thought into it.”

  Rick replied something that came out as a weak huff, like he didn’t have the internal strength to really let out such a thing. It saddened me to think he was representative of the male gender.

  I checked my watch. It was a little after ten. I hoped the housekeeper would get there early. Partly so we could get the tape, and also because I wanted to get a look at her. The neighbor said she was good looking. I liked good looking women.

  Rick’s cell phone rang.

  “Yes,” he said.

  The wife. I knew it.

  “It’ll be late tonight. I told you that.” Pause, exhale. “You’ll have to cancel the plans.” Louder exhale. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” Pathetic. I took a drag from the cigarette and looked at him, smirking at him the same way he did to me at the station. His face turned redder. How nice. “I can’t talk about it now. I can’t predict when I’m going to get an important case. I just have to take what I am assigned.” Or what you go after, I thought. “I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up the phone. For a moment, the way he was so quick with her, he almost seemed like a man. Almost.

  “Women,” he said, “they’ll drive you nuts.” Common statement from a whipped man. They can’t mouth off to their wives, so they mouth off about them when they are not around. I figured I’d stoke his fire a little. Why not?

  “They only drive you as crazy as you let them.”

  He looked at me, quizzically. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Hey,” I said, raising my hands a bit. “I don’t know about your situation. I was just making a statement in general. Women will tighten the leash as much as you let them. Hand them a foot, they take it, and then expect more.”

  Again the look. “I’m not getting upset,” he said, turning to look out the window. “I just wanted to know what you meant. She drives me nuts.”

  “I bet.”

  “I never get a break.”

  “Not many of us do.”

  Rick didn’t look happy—unusual for him.

  I decided to change the topic. I pointed toward the house. “What do you think we’ll find on that tape?”

  “Who knows? Something big. That’s what I’m hoping for. But then again, maybe nothing.”

  “That would be a waste of time.”

  “I don’t think that’s what we’ll find. His voice will be on that tape. Who knows what he said, but he’ll have said something.”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  After about fifteen minutes, a gray Jeep Grand Cherokee pulled into the driveway. A short woman, with long black hair, dressed in a pair of sweat pants and a leather jacket got out. I couldn’t see the face, but I saw the ass. Nice. It looked firm, and giggled nicely in the sweats. I liked that.

  “There’s our housekeeper,” Rick said, “Let’s go.”

  “Yup.”

  We got out of the car, and met the lady just before the porch. Rick pulled out his badge and the warrant. I didn’t bother producing anything. I looked at the woman. She had soft skin, and sparkling blue eyes. A real looker. She had those perky lips and a certain sense that she knew people liked to look at her. She was hot. A worker, I could tell.

  “Ma’am,” Rick said, “I’m Detective Calhill from the New York Police Department, and this is Detective Keegan. We have a warrant to get the tape in Mrs. Minkoff’s answer machine.”

  The woman looked puzzled.

  “I’m sorry?” she said.

  “I’m sure you heard about Mrs. Minkoff’s son, Ron Mullins. He died last night.”

  “Yes, I heard about it on the radio this morning. Shocking.” Though the woman was taken aback by our presence, she held her composure like a Hollywood actress. I wanted to boink her, right there. Drop the sweats and go to town. Probably wouldn’t help the investigation much. But she was returning my stare with a penetrating look.

  She fumbled with her keys, and then looked closer at the warrant. “Okay. I suppose you know Mrs. Minkoff is not home.”

  “She’s in the Andes,” I said. “We heard. Any way of contacting her?”

  “There’s a number where I can leave a message, but it usually takes a day or two for her to get it.”

  “We’ll need that,” Rick said.

  “It’s written down inside.” She opened the door, held it open for us, and led us into the living room. The place looked like a museum, with various artifacts and books on bookcases all about the room. The place smelled of pine. Not pine cleaner, but actual pine. Fresh.

  Roseanna took her jacket off, hung it in a closet in the next room, and came back to us.

  “Your full name, ma’am?” Rick asked. He pulled out the leather notepad he always carried.

  “Roseanna Jenkins.”

  “Address?”

  She looked at him without saying anything.

  “Formality. That’s all.”

  “1451 Skywood Drive, Levittown, New York.”

  “How long have you worked for Mrs. Minkoff?”

  “Six years.”

  “When did she leave?” Rick asked.

  She thought about that for a moment. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was wearing only a white t-shirt, and it displayed her ample bosom nicely.

  I needed to get laid, soon.

  “Two weeks ago, Saturday.”

  “And when is she expected back?” Rick asked. He sounded like such a jerk to me at that moment. Maybe I felt pro
tective of my new sweetheart.

  “Is this an official questioning? Should I call my lawyer?” Housekeepers with lawyers, how interesting.

  “Not at all,” Rick assured her. “I just need some background information. We are really only here for the tape.”

  Roseanna, the sweet goddess, nodded. “Okay,” she said. “She’s due back soon. Three or four days, depending on how the dig finishes up.”

  “When was the last time you saw Ron Mullins?”

  She looked up at the ceiling to think. I did too, and noticed the most peculiar light fixture I’ve ever seen. It had an orange glass ball, with golden trim around it. It wasn’t on, and I tried to picture what the room would look like with it on. Actually, I tried to picture a bed in the middle of the room, with Roseanna in a nightgown, beckoning me. What a vision, and I didn’t have a hard time creating it.

  “I think it was about six months ago,” Roseanna said.

  “How would you describe the relationship between Mrs. Minkoff and her son?” Rick asked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. From my experience, they didn’t see too much of each other. They’re both busy people. But I’d say they had a close mother-son relationship.” People feel, when questioned by detectives, that they must pass some test. I’ve never felt that way so it’s absurd to me, but I guess I understand where it comes from. We can intimidate people. And yes, we like it. A lot.