Lee walked into Sara McDowell’s office and plopped down in the cheap, county issue chair opposite her. He loosened his tie and waited for her to acknowledge his presence. It was a little game they played. She pretended not to notice him and he pretended not to be pissed off. It had worked beautifully for the five years that she had been the head of Criminal Sciences department, at least as far as she was concerned.
Sara smiled to herself. She could smell his cologne and that was the real reason that she usually just sat and paid attention to her paperwork while he fidgeted. It reminded her of her dad’s which had an odd psychological effect considering she had the hots for him. That was if people there age still got the hots for anyone. It could be the early onset of menopause, she supposed. With that somewhat disturbing thought she looked up. “Hello Detective. What is it that I can do for you this fine morning?”
“Well Doctor, you could let me take you out for dinner. But since you don’t date cops I guess I’ll have to settle for you giving me an update on the Owen case.” He ran his fingers through his gradually thinning, but still pitch black hair.
“Now Lee, you could have asked any number of people for updates. Why come and see me. I know it wasn’t just to make a clumsy pass.” Her bright smile offset by shell pink lips belied the harshness of the words.
He always had had a thing for women with auburn hair. “Well in this particular case you’re right. I’m pretty sure I already know what your people will tell me about the deceased and the crime scene. He died by a single shot from a hunting rifle, which was found at the scene. There were no prints and no physical evidence to speak of. Combine that with a decidedly odd lack of witnesses and this case is going cold faster than french fries.”
She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “So what do you want to know then?”
“This question is related tangentially to the case I’m on, but you might think it a bit odd. Have you had any children come into your office recently where the cause of death was particularly gruesome?” He stood and walked around behind his chair.
She thumbed through a stack of files on her desk. “Well actually yes, but I think you knew that. What do you really want to find out?” She slid the file that she was hunting for out and placed it carefully on the center of her blotter.
His fingers worked the cushions of the chair like he was giving it a deep tissue massage. Dead children were the worst part of his job and he hated talking about one. “Well I’ve done a little digging this morning and apparently there was a string of homicides involving pre-pubescent children about two years ago. All killed in…ritualistic ways and dumped out in the county. This was the first one that was found in the city limits and I want to know if it has anything in common with those.”
The file flipped open under her short, well manicured nails revealing notes in an even hand. “Well I can certainly look into it. What does this have to do with Owen? Do you think he was involved?”
Lee nodded. “Yeah I do. We had a couple of people that tried to tie him to some pretty weird shit, but they were never able to testify. I heard about this and it seemed interesting that the child’s death and his were so close together.”
“Are you thinking a vengeful parent?”
“No. This feels a little too well planned for a vengeance thing. It was a clean assassination. There was little or no passion. Still, it’s an angle and it’s all I have right now.” He sighed and gave the chair a break. “So you think you can do that for me?”
She stood and smoothed her white lab coat. For a woman well into her forties, she still had a great figure. “For you Lee? Almost anything. I’ll call you when I have something.”
“Thanks Doc.” He gave a mock salute and left. He had another call to make across town. This one might require a little physicality, so once he was back in his car he fished his brass knuckles out of the glove box. Dad had given him these upon his graduation from the academy. He was more than a little shocked that his father, himself a captain when he retired, would give him something that was like a throwback to the forties.
“Boy,” he had said “I hope you never need to use these. As far as I’m concerned it’s a nasty shortcut. Your brains should keep you in good stead. It may serve as a reminder of what not to do. At the same time don’t be afraid to use intimidation and even violence when you need to. It’s all some thugs understand.”
And so he kept them and in the twenty odd years since then he had actually used them once or twice. Twenty minutes later he was in a slightly better part of town, parked in front of a bar that served as many martinis as it did bottles of beer. Still it had the look of a working man’s pub, down to the wooden sign hanging from the eaves. That was all artificial though. It proclaimed itself Callahan’s, but the only Irish thing about it was what they might have on draft.
He slipped the knuckles on his left hand and tucked it in a pocket. The inside was poorly lit and practically empty. It wasn’t quite lunchtime, but apparently for some people it was close enough to five. He walked to the bar and saw his quarry sipping at a dark beer.
“What can I get you sir?’ chimed the young bartender.
“Just a club soda.” He flashed his badge with his right hand and tucked it back into the inside pocket of his blazer.
“Certainly officer.” The man gunned the fuzzy water into an iced glass and slid it on front of Lee. “On the house.”
Lee sat. “Gee, thanks kid.” He sat down with a chair between him and the only other person at the bar, one Giovanni “Big John” deLucci, former chief bodyguard to Walter Owen.
“What can I do for you Detective Winston?” The big Italian had a deep voice. That certainly added to his otherwise imposing presence. At six feet nine inches and well over three hundred pounds according to his rap sheet, this was not a man to be messed with. He was also a fairly smart con too, with a college degree in business. Oddly enough he went in on a white collar beef.
He took a long pull at the soda. “Well you could answer a couple of questions for me.”
“And if I don’t you’re going to clip me on the chin with a left full of metal?”
He had picked up on the knucks. Not surprising. “Not really part of the plan, just a little insurance. You could take me apart without breaking a sweat.”
“Yeah, if I wanted to go back inside. Well I don’t so don’t sweat it. I’m legit as far as anyone knows.” He smiled and it was warm and genuine. There was no malice there.
Lee knew better than to trust that though. He’d seen men smile like that right after carving up there mother like a Christmas goose. “Fair enough. I just want to know a thing or two about your former employer.”
Big John swiveled in his chair. It groaned dangerously. “You and every reporter, cop, and hack novelist in the city. I like your rep though. I figure you’re on the level. So ask your questions and I’ll answer them as best as I can.”
“Good enough. Is it true that he had a thing for children?”
“Not a sexual thing, no.” His large olive colored hand crawled over his smooth skull.
“Well if not that, then what?” Lee looked honestly puzzled.
“I wish I could say for sure. Then I’d probably be able to make some money off these hacks. Course it’s not like they really want the truth. I don’t think they’d be able to handle it if they knew.”
“Handle it? What’s ‘it’?”
“I remember there being kids around from time to time and usually they were taken care of by his aunt. I don’t know if they were relatives or what and I don’t care. I just remember that the way he looked at them gave me the creeps. I never saw one hurt, not even so much as a slap on the ass, but… Hell I can’t explain it.” It was his turn to take a long drink. He drained his beer. “You know what? That’s it. That’s your only question. I was having a perfectly good day, drinking beer and planning on watching the game. Now you have to go and dig up a bad memory. That pazza aunt of his.” Big John shuddered. “I’m gone. You want to talk more in a few days give me a call.” He flung a business card at the detective.
Lee let him go. One, it wasn’t like he could stop him. Two, he’d learned something pretty valuable. He knew for a fact that Owen didn’t have an aunt. He sat drinking the club soda and thinking about his next move.
