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Chapter One
Eli Andrew Rico always did his
ironing in front of the kitchen window. It faced the park across the street
from his Bronx apartment and he liked to watch the kids playing baseball while
he ironed.
Today was Sunday
and his day off. He was ironing five white shirts for the coming week. White
wasn’t a requirement, but it made life a bit simpler if all his shirts for work
were the same color.
His apartment was
small, but comfortable and the view of the park from the fourth floor was
excellent. Today the kids were playing a game of pickup baseball where teams
were chosen at random. School was out for the summer and the kids made the most
of it. Baseball, touch football, tag sometimes so the girls could play and when
a fire hydrant was opened by the fire department it attracted the neighborhood
kids by the hundreds.
He thought about a
pet for company. The building allowed pets, dogs and cats, but his job took up
so many hours it wouldn’t be fair to an animal to be left alone so much of the
time.
Eli finished the
fifth shirt and hung them neatly in the bedroom closet. In the bathroom, he
shaved carefully and then took a shower. The humidity was high so he turned on
the bedroom fan and stood before it to air dry rather than towel off.
Then he dressed in
white slacks, a pullover shirt, tan socks and loafers. In his right pocket he
stuck some folding money, his keys and old Zippo lighter in the left.
Handkerchief in the left rear pocket, wallet in the right. Cigarettes in the
shirt pocket. To his right ankle, he strapped on the .38 special snub nose
revolver. The holster, gun and six extra bullets were heavy but he was used to
the weight.
Before he left the
apartment, as an afterthought, he tucked the five and a half inch long
switchblade knife into his right pocket.
He wore his
father’s old watch, the only watch he had ever owned.
The heat and
humidity outside was like a slap to the face. He crossed the street and entered
the park. Mr. Peru, who sold Italian ices in the summer for as long as Eli
could remember was in his usual spot at the gate.
Eli forked over a
dime for a cherry flavored snow cone and found a bench to eat it and watch the
game in progress. Nobody ever kept score. The games lasted until it was too
dark to see the ball. Oftentimes fights broke out and delayed play until
someone broke it up and play resumed. Sometimes in the middle of a game a kid
got upset with his team and went to play for the other team.
It didn’t matter
to Eli who won or lost. The noise of kids playing was like fine music to his
ears.
He ate the snow
cone until all the cherry syrup was gone and then tossed the paper container
into the nearest trash bin. He reclaimed his bench and lit a cigarette. The
Zippo had seen better days, but it was thirty-two-years-old and was given to
him by his father. He would use it until it no longer functioned and then store
it someplace safe.
The heat and
humidity wore the kids down and they called the game quits.
Eli stood and left
the park. He walked two blocks to the Italian bakery on the corner and picked
up two round loaves of bread, the crusty kind. Then he walked back to his
apartment to retrieve his car that was parked at the curb.
It was still
early, but the drive to his parent’s home in New Jersey took forever. First he
had to drive into Manhattan and then to the George Washington Bridge and cross
over and drive south to Paramus.
He couldn’t be
late. His mother served dinner promptly at six-thirty every night except
Sunday. Sunday was five on the nose and you felt her wrath if you were late.
His sister Shelly, her husband Robert and their two girls would be there along
with Mom and Pop.
His car, a
forty-one Ford didn’t have a radio, so he hung a transistor radio from the
rearview mirror. He turned it on and played with the dial until he found a ball
game. The Yankees were playing Cleveland at home. The Yanks were up eleven to
three in the fifth. Red Barber gave a quick recap as the sixth inning began.
Joe DiMaggio had a home run and a double and Yogi Berra had two home runs.
Unless there were some serious injuries on the team, the Yanks were a shoe-in
to win the nineteen forty-nine pennant and World Series.
By the time he
reached Manhattan the game was in the seventh inning. He drove north to One
Seventy-Ninth Street to the entrance ramp of the bridge. Traffic leading to the
ramp was backed up for ten blocks. The game ended as he reached the toll
booths. He paid the seventy-five cents toll from the loose change he kept in
the ashtray and crossed the bridge.
Seventy-five-cents
may seem a lot to cross each way, but it was the longest bridge in the world
and hailed as an engineering marvel, so he really didn’t mind the steep toll.
Once on the Jersey
side, Eli drove south to Paramus.
Thirty minutes
later, he arrived at his parent’s home. The home, a modest, three-bedroom Tudor
was the crowning achievement of his parents’ lives.
His father, Salvatore, arrived in New York from Italy in 1901 at the age of
thirteen. Eli’s grandparents spoke no English and his father just a few words.
It was there, at the point they were identified by immigration agents
incorrectly that the family name of Riggeo was recorded as Rico.
Eli’s mother,
Michele O’Rourke was born in The Bronx and was third generation Irish. Her
great-grandfather came over in 1863 and fought in the Civil War. Salvatore and
Michele met in 1913 and had to hide their romance from their families because
an Italian boy didn’t date an Irish girl without consequences. In 1914, they
secretly married and when the marriage became known they were outcast from
their families.
It didn’t matter
to Salvatore or Michele. They moved to a Bronx apartment and a year later Eli
was born. Two years after that, Shelly came along. Salvatore worked for the
Transit Authority and helped build tunnels and lay track. Later, he became a
motorman and finally a conductor. Michele worked as a telephone operator for
thirty-five years and retired just a year ago. Salvatore planned to retire in
1950.
They bought the
house in 1939 when the price of homes was dirt cheap.
Shelly moved to
In late forty-one,
Eli took the exam for detective and made the grade the first try. He proved to
be a brilliant detective and was on the brink of great things when the Second
World War broke out.
He enlisted in the
spring of forty-two as did nearly twenty million other men.
Salvatore gave Eli
his watch and Zippo lighter that he carried in World War One when he ’d
fought in
Eli returned home
in early forty-six and his job, as promised, was waiting for him. The war had
depleted resources and by forty-seven he was promoted to homicide as a sergeant
and just last year to lieutenant .
Sally, Robert and
their kids were already there when Eli arrives at his parent’s home. Robert
drove a forty-seven Cadillac, his father a forty-three Ford. He parked behind
the Ford, grabbed the bread and prepared himself for the dinner conversations
to follow.
Robert would
subtly brag about his career as an engineer and how well he was doing
financially. Shelly would discretely inquire about Eli’s
dating habits and try to set him up with one of her ‘unmarried friends.’ Ma
would tell him for the thousandth time how she would sleep better at night if
he had a different career, one that was safer. Pop would want to talk baseball.
The Yanks, Giants and Dodgers. It would all go on for hours and nothing would
ever get resolved except that everyone would eat too much and burp too much
later on.
As Eli walked to
the front door, it suddenly opened and his father stepped out.
“Your office
called,” he said. “They said it was an emergency.”
*****
Eli used the phone in the bedroom
to call the office. He spoke to the dispatcher on duty for a few minutes and
then hung up.
He went to the
living room where the family had gathered.
“I have to go,” he
said.
“It’s Sunday,” his
mother said.
“I know, Ma,” Eli
said. “I have to go.”
“I’ll walk you
out,” his father said.
At the door,
Salvatore said, “Eli, be careful.”
“And make sure you
eat something,” Michelle called after him.
Chapter Two
The drive back to Manhattan took
about an hour. An accident on the GW closed two lanes and heavy Sunday traffic
funneled into the remaining open lanes causing a bottleneck.
He fiddled with
the radio and found the Giants game. They were losing and ‘Stan the Man’ had
just hit a homerun to crack open the game. He lit a cigarette and felt his
shirt stick to the seat.
Traffic inched
along the bridge.
The back of his
shirt was drenched by the time he reached Manhattan. He drove to Broadway and
then south and then to Central Park West to the Charter Arms apartment building
on 81st Street.
Eli parked at a
hydrant, opened the glove box for the Police on Duty sign and left it on the
dashboard. He also took out a small notebook and pen.
The Charter Arms
was thirty stories high of luxury living for the city’s elite. Eli had never
been inside the building, but had driven past it hundreds of time. The ornate
and lavish lobby faced Central Park. The underground parking garage was located
on the 81st Street side of the building.
A guard employed
by the building was on duty in a little hut at the entrance to the garage. Eli
showed him his badge on the way in. He walked the ramp into the garage and
stopped for a moment to observe the scene.
Six police
cruisers were parked in somewhat of a circle. A woman sat in back of one of
them. An ambulance and the medical examiner’s
wagon were parked beside a Cadillac sedan. The sedan’s driver’s side door was
open. A department photographer stood waiting for the word to go to work.
Eli approached the
scene.
“Hi, Lieutenant,”
a patrolman said.
Eli nodded. “Did
anybody touch anything?”
Another patrolman
said, “Me and my partner took the call. Nothing was touched.”
Eli nodded again.
He walked to the medical examiner, an experienced doctor named Wilson.
“Did you check the
body yet?” Eli asked.
“Waiting on you,”
Wilson said.
“Go ahead.”
Eli looked at the
woman in the back of a patrol car. “Who is she?”
A patrolman
stepped forward. “That’s my car, Lieutenant. She’s the maid. She found the
body. She says the victim is Roger Tanner, her employer.”
“The maid?” Eli
said.
“That’s what she
said,” the patrolman said. “Her English isn’t very good. I think she’s a PR .”
Eli walked to the
patrol car, opened the rear door and sat beside the maid. He showed her his
badge.
“I’m Lieutenant
Rico,” he said. “What is your name please?”
“Rosa Garcia.”
“I understand you
work for Mr. Tanner,” Eli said as he jotted her name in his notebook.
Rosa nodded her
head. “I am the housekeeper,” she said in a thick Spanish accent.
“Why don’t you
tell me what happened,” Eli said.
“What happened?”
“Yes, tell me what
happened.”
“Mister Tanner, he
leave to go play cards like he do every Sunday night and he forget his cigars,”
Rosa said.
“His cigars?”
“Si. I mean yes.”
Rosa picked up the
leather cigar holder from the seat beside her. “His cigars,” she said.
“What time did he
leave the apartment?” Eli asked.
“Four,” Rosa said.
“He leave every Sunday at four to play cards.”
“And how did you
notice he didn’t take his cigars?”
“Every Sunday I
pack his case with six fresh cigars and leave it on the table beside the front
door,” Rosa said. “He forget them. I see them there and I rush to the elevator
to try and see him before he drive away.”
“What time was
that?”
“Four. He always
leave at four to go play his cards.”
“So you grabbed the
cigars and did what?”
“I go to the
hallway to the elevators and I have to wait for the elevator,” Rosa said. “Two,
maybe three minutes and then it come. I ride down to garage and see Mister
Tanner’s car door open and he on the floor covered in blood.”
“And what did you
do?”
“I screamed. What
would you do?”
Eli smiled. “Who
called the police?”
“I ran up the
steps to lobby and tell the guard,” Rosa said.
“Did Mr. Tanner
ever forget his cigars before?”
“Si. I mean yes.
He forget things all the time. A few times he call from the card game and I go
deliver them.”
“Where do you
live, Miss Garcia?”
“In the apartment
in the maid’s room.”
Eli nodded as he
jotted a few more notes. “Excuse me for a moment.”
Rosa nodded.
Eli left the
cruiser and went to Wilson. “What do you got?”
“I got a corpse on
the floor of a parking garage,” Wilson said.
“Funny,” Eli said.
“What killed him and when?”
“One large stab
wound to the spleen,” Wilson said.
“Jesus,” Eli said.
“He didn’t die
from that, although he would have left untreated,” Wilson said. “His neck is
broken. Snapped like a dry twig.”
Eli stared at the
body of Roger Tanner for a moment. He was slumped on his left side. “Get his
wallet and then go over the body with a fine tooth comb. Prints on the car,
whatever. Check everything and I mean everything.”
“Can I photograph
the body now?” the photographer said.
“Every angle,” Eli
said. “Just don’t touch it.”
“Lieutenant, some
reporters are here,” a patrolman said.
“Keep them out,”
Eli said. “I want five two-man teams to knock on every door in the building and
get statements. I’m taking Miss Garcia up to the apartment. Wait, I want
statements from the guard at the garage security booth and from the doorman and
like right now. Bring them to the apartment.”
“You got it,
Lieutenant,” the officer said.
*****
Rosa used her key to unlock the
front door to the apartment. She opened the door and stepped inside and held
the door for Eli. Before he entered, he glanced down the hall. As with most
large apartments there was a servants’
door down the hall.
The living room
was as large as or larger than Eli’s entire apartment. It was expensively
furnished, including a set of Tiffany lamps.
“Let’s sit on the
sofa and talk for a bit,” Eli said.
Rosa took a seat
on the twelve-foot-long sofa.
Eli sat near her
and opened the notebook.
“How long have you
worked for Mr. Tanner?” Eli asked.
“Since nineteen
forty-two,” Rosa said.
“Where are you
from?”
“Cuba.”
“When did you come
to America?”
“I … what is the
word … I can’t think,” Rosa said.
“I understand.
You’ve just witnessed a terrible crime,” Eli said. “Take your time.”
Rosa nodded. “In
Cuba, my family was put into the prison,” she said.
“Why?”
“Politics. They
believe in freedom.”
Eli nodded. “I
understand. Go on please.”
“I work as
housekeeper at hotel in San Juan,” Rosa said. “The man who own the hotel say he
own a hotel in
“And how did you
come to work for Mr. Tanner?”
“One of the women
at the hotel, she tell me about Mr. Tanner looking for a new housekeeper. She
say I should see Mr. Tanner.”
“And you did?”
Rosa nodded.
“He like me and
hire me as housekeeper,” Rosa said.
“How old are you,
Miss Garcia?” Eli asked.
“Twenty-nine.”
“Did you plan to
work for Mr. Tanner much longer?”
“Until I have
enough.”
“Enough what?”
“Money saved. I
have fifteen thousand dollars in the bank.”
“You have fifteen
thousand dollars?”
“Si. Yes. Mr.
Tanner, he pay very well. One thousand dollars a month and I live in the
apartment. I show you.”
Rosa and Eli stood
and she led him to the large kitchen. She opened a door located on the back
wall.
“See?” she said.
Eli looked inside
the large studio apartment that was well furnished.
“You live here?”
Eli asked.
“Si. Yes. I live
here. I pay no rent so I save most of my money.”
Eli nodded. “Where
does Mr. Tanner keep his cigars?”
“In the cigar
room. I show you.”
Rosa took Eli to
the den. The walls were lined with well-stocked books. The desk was oak, the
chair leather. She opened a door and Eli looked inside. The room was lined with
shelves of boxed cigars of every major brand, including Cuban.
“Let’s go back to
the sofa,” Eli said.
“I can make coffee
you like?”
“That would be
fine,” Eli said.
They returned to
the kitchen where Rosa made coffee. Eli sat at the table until it was ready and
then she filled two cups and sat opposite him.
Eli sampled the
coffee. “Good,” he said.
“Is Cuban coffee.
I buy at the special store on Broadway.”
“Miss Garcia, what
did Mr. Tanner do for work?” Eli asked.
“Mr. Tanner no
work,” Rosa said. “He a … how do you say … wealthy.”
“Do you know how
he acquired his wealth?”
Rosa shook her
head. “He never say about such things.”
“What about friend
and girlfriends?”
“Mr. Tanner have
many friends. They play cards every Sunday night.”
“Where?”
“The Park Plaza
Hotel. They always play in room 1919.”
“At what time?”
“He always leave
at four. He get home around one in the morning.”
“Are you sure?”
Rosa nodded.
“How long have you
and Mr. Tanner been lovers?” Eli asked.
Rosa blushed and
her eyes looked away.
“Your room looks
as if it hadn’t been slept in for quite a while,” Eli said. “You’re a very
pretty woman and the average salary of a live-in housekeeper is around fifty
dollars a week. It wasn’t hard to figure it out, Miss Garcia.”
Rosa looked at
Eli. “He say one night he very lonely after his wife died,” she said. “He say
he want company. At first I not understand.”
“That was when?”
“Five years ago,
maybe longer.”
“Well, there is no
crime in being lonely,” Eli said. “What about his enemies?”
“He have none I
know of,” Rosa said.
The phone rang.
Rosa looked at Eli and he nodded. She stood and picked up the wall phone.
“Hello, residence
of Mr. Tanner,” she said.
Rose listened for
a moment and then said to hold on. She looked at Eli. He stood and took the
phone.
“This is Police
Lieutenant Eli Rico, who is this please?”
“Michael Breck.
Where is Roger?”
“Mister Breck, I’m
afraid Mister Tanner is dead,” Eli said.
“Dead? How could
he be dead?” Breck asked.
“Somebody murdered
him,” Eli said. “Are you at the Park Plaza Hotel?”
“Yes, we’re …”
“Stay until I get
there,” Eli said and hung up.
Eli looked at
Rosa nodded.
“Show me.”
Rosa took Eli to
the master bedroom and opened the walk-in closet door. Against the back wall
stood a three foot tall safe. He entered the closet and tried the door. It was
locked.
“Lieutenant?” a
voice called from the living room.
Eli and Rosa
returned to the living room.
Two crime scene
investigators had arrived.
“Search everything,”
Eli said. “Find date books, notes, whatever and have someone from the
department open the safe in the bedroom.”
“What I do?” Rosa
asked.
“For now,
nothing,” Eli said. “Just stay in the apartment and help my men with whatever
they need. Okay?”
Rosa nodded.
“And have a
uniformed officer stay with Miss Garcia until I return,” Eli said to the two
crime scene investigators.
*****
Michael Breck answered the hotel
room door. Eli had his badge and ID ready and showed it to him.
“I spoke to you on
the phone,” Breck said.
Eli entered and
Breck closed the door.
“Who do we have
here?” Eli asked.
Three men sat at
the card table in the center of the room.
“John Potts,
William Teal and Steven Roth,” Breck said. “Now will you tell us what in God’s
name happened to Roger?”
“Gentlemen, let’s
talk,” Eli said.
*****
As he rode the elevator to Tanner’s
apartment, he scanned his notes. Roger Tanner was thirty-eight-years-old. The
four men he played cards with the past decade were, as him, wealthy trust fund
heirs. In Tanner’s case, he inherited a trust worth three million, seven
hundred dollars.
While it was true
that Tanner didn’t work at a regular job, he did have an advisement banker that
managed his portfolio closely and he more than doubled his trust fund.
He married his
high school sweetheart when they were both twenty-two-years-old. She died in
nineteen forty from a freak accident in Central Park. She enjoyed riding her
bicycle every morning in the park. It was the weekend of the Fourth of July.
Some kids threw a pack of firecrackers in front of a horse-drawn carriage. The
horse spooked and raced away from the driver. Horse and bicycle collided. The
horse won.
Breck told Eli
that Tanner barely left the apartment for close to a year after his wife died.
After the bombing of Pearl Harbor, Tanner enlisted.
Or tried to.
He was deaf in the
left ear from a childhood disease and was classified 4F.
He spent the war
on the sidelines but did his part with fund raising events and donating money
to military causes.
Breck and the others
verified Rosa’s story of her employment as far as they knew.
Breck told Eli
that he spoke with Tanner recently concerning his relationship with Rosa. Breck
said that Tanner was considering asking her to be his wife.
Tanner wasn’t a
small man. He stood six feet tall and weighed one hundred and ninety pounds
according to his driver’s license information.
So how was he
overpowered so easily?
And without a
fight.
The elevator door
opened and Eli walked to the Tanner apartment. A uniformed officer was in the
hallway at the door.
“Is someone inside
with her?” Eli asked.
The officer
nodded. “Everybody in the building is asking what’s going on?”
“They’ll find out
soon enough.”
Eli opened the
door and entered the apartment. A uniformed officer was sitting on the sofa and
he stood up. “Hi, Lieutenant,” he said.
“Where is Miss
Garcia?” Eli asked.
“In the master
bedroom,” the officer said. “One second she’s sitting on the sofa calm as a
Hindu cow, the next she’s hysterical.”
“See any combat,
officer?” Eli asked.
“5th
Infantry.”
“When the battle
is over, that’s when you breakdown,” Eli said.
The officer
nodded. “Two statements from the guard in the garage and the doorman,” he said.
“On the coffee table.”
Eli went into the
master bedroom. Rosa wasn’t on the bed or anywhere else. The bathroom door was
closed.
“Miss Garcia?” Eli
said at the bathroom door.
“The door is no
locked,” Rosa said.
Eli opened the
door. The bathroom was the size of his kitchen. The marble tub could hold four
and was sunken. Rosa sat in the tub up to her neck in bubble bath.
“I’m sorry. Excuse
me,” Eli said.
“Is all right,”
Rosa said. “Sit on the bench, please.”
There was a bench
against the wall. Eli sat and looked at her. Her eyes were red and swollen from
crying. A glass of wine rested on the tiles floor beside the tub.
Rosa sighed
heavily. “What happen now?” she said.
“If you mean
tonight, I’ll head over to the office and review what we have,” Eli said. “An
officer will stop by tomorrow to escort you to my office to take your
statement. I’ll make sure an officer stays in the apartment overnight.”
Rosa nodded. “I
will have to find a place to live now,” she said.
“Wait until a
lawyer tells you that,” Eli said. “For now you’re my witness and I need you to
stay put.”
“I ask myself why
this happen,” Rosa said. “Mr. Tanner never hurt nobody.”
“Listen, it’s
getting late and I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast,” Eli said.
“Would you like me
to cook for you?” Rosa asked.
“That would be
nice,” Eli said. “I’ll wait in the living room.”
Eli returned to
the living room where the officer was in a chair, reading a newspaper. He stood
when Eli entered the room.
“Were you here
when forensics left?” Eli said.
“I was. They took
everything but the kitchen sink.”
“What time does
your shift end?”
“In about an hour.”
“You’re from the
four two?”
The officer
nodded.
“Head back to your
house and tell your captain I asked for an overnight watch,” Eli said. “I’ll
wait here until your people show up.”
“One for the
hallway?”
“If there’s
manpower.”
The officer nodded
and left the apartment.
Eli picked up the
two reports and went to the kitchen. He used the phone on the wall and called
the medical examiner.
Wilson answered
after three rings. “Medical Examiner,” Wilson said.
“It’s Eli.”
“I figured you’d
call,” Wilson said. “Tanner’s on the slab as we speak.”
“And?”
“Too soon. Stop by
in a couple of hours.”
“I will. Thanks.”
Eli hung up and
touched the pot of coffee on the stove. It was still warm and he opened a
cabinet, removed a mug and filled it. He found an ashtray in a drawer and took
it to the table where he lit a cigarette.
How was Tanner
overpowered so easily and quickly, he mulled over? From the time he left the
apartment to the time Rosa found him was a matter of minutes. He read the
reports from the guard in the garage and the doorman.
The guard claimed
and his log book verified his statement that no one drove into or left the
garage one hour prior to Tanner’s murder. A record of the log showed that seven
residents of the building had left and entered the garage prior to four
o’clock.
The doorman said
that only building residents had left and entered the building during his shift
that started at ten am and ended at six pm.
“What would you
like?” Rosa asked as she entered the kitchen.
She had changed
into white slacks, a yellow blouse and wore slippers. Her dark hair was pinned
up. Her face, especially around the eyes was puffy and swollen. She had been
crying again.
“Anything would be
fine,” Eli said.
“That coffee is
old,” Rosa said. “I’ll make fresh.”
Rose emptied the
pot and went about making a fresh pot.
“That door there,
is that the second entrance to the apartment?” Eli asked and pointed.
“Yes. The servants’
door,”
“Rosa, how is the
trash removed?” Eli asked.
“The trash?”
“Yeah, the trash.”
“I leave it in the
hall and the … what is the word?”
“The building
superintendent,” Eli said.
“Yes. He come and
pick it up.”
“What days?”
“Monday, Wednesday
and Saturday.”
“Not Sunday.”
“No.”
“Does he live in
the building?”
Rosa nodded.
“Can you call him
on the phone and ask him to stop by?”
Rosa went to the
phone, dialed a number and then spoke in Spanish. She hung up and looked at
Eli. “He be right up.”
Eli nodded.
“The coffee take a
minute,” Rosa said.
“No hurry.”
The doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it,” Eli
said.
He stood and went
to the living room and opened the door. “I am Victor Sanchez, the super,”
Sanchez said in a thick accent.
“Come in,” Eli
said.
“I already talk to
police before,” Sanchez said.
“I know. I have a
few questions though. In the kitchen.”
Eli and Sanchez
went to the kitchen.
“Hello, Rosa,”
Sanchez said. “I am so sorry about Mr. Tanner.”
Rosa nodded. “Have
some coffee with us.”
Eli and Sanchez
sat and Rosa filled three cups and then sat next to Eli.
“Mr. Sanchez, tell
me about the garbage,” Eli said.
“The garbage?”
“Yes. How do you
remove it and where does it go?”
“The tenants leave
it outside the servants’ door and I pick it up in a cart and bring it down to
the basement and fill the cans,” Sanchez said.
“On Monday,
Wednesday and Saturday,” Eli said.
“Yes.”
“If a tenant has
something they want to get rid of on say Tuesday or Thursday, what then?” Eli
asked.
“They can call me
or take it down themselves,” Sanchez said. “The private elevator is never
locked.”
“Can you show me?”
Eli asked.
“Sure.”
“Rosa, I’ll be
right back,” Eli said.
Eli and Sanchez
went out to the hallway through the servant’s door in the kitchen. Sanchez led
Eli down to the end of the hall where the private elevator was located. Sanchez
pushed the call button and after a few seconds the door opened. A large and
empty laundry cart was in the elevator car.
Eli and Sanchez
got on and Sanchez pushed the button for the basement.
“I keep an empty
cart on the elevator for me to use,” Sanchez said. “And for people to put their
trash in if they no want to go downstairs.”
The elevator
arrived in the basement. The door opened and Eli and Sanchez got off. The
basement was large. Thirty garbage cans lined the walls. Workbenches were
filled with tools.
Eli pointed to a
door.
“Where does that
go?” he asked.
“The garage,”
Sanchez said.
Eli opened the
door and looked into the garage. “Is this door ever locked?”
“Never.”
“How do you bring
the cans to the street?” Eli asked.
“Here,” Sanchez
said and walked to another door at the end of the basement.
“Is this door ever
locked?” Eli asked.
“No, never.”
The door opened to
a courtyard. Eli and Sanchez stepped into the courtyard. There was a tunnel
that led to the street. They walked the tunnel and it ended at the sidewalk
about forty feet to the left of the parking garage.
Eli looked to his
left. The guard on duty at the garage wasn’t visible.
“Mr. Sanchez, I
suggest that from now on you lock those doors,” Eli said.
*****
Eli returned to the apartment to
find a large Spanish omelet waiting for him. Rosa had prepared a second,
smaller one for herself.
“This is
delicious,” Eli said.
“Thank you,” Rosa
said.
“I need you to do
something for me,” Eli said. “Several things, actually. The first is that you
speak to no one concerning Mr. Tanner. The second is when an officer arrives
tomorrow to take you downtown to make a statement you be as thorough as
possible. The third is you rack your memory for any information you can
remember about friends, enemies and whatever. Okay?”
Rosa nodded.
“In all
likelihood, I will see you tomorrow,” Eli said.
Chapter Three
Eli looked at the body of Roger
Tanner on the examination table.
“He’s a fit man,
isn’t he?” Eli said.
“He was,” Wilson
said. “A mite over six feet tall, a solid one ninety one.”
Wilson rolled the
body over. “The stab wound on the left side goes directly to the spleen.
Painful, mortal given enough time, but not fatal in this instance. His neck is
snapped in two like a twig. That’s what killed him and in my opinion,
instantly.”
Eli looked at the
stab wound.
“What kind of
knife?”
“Haven’t
identified it yet,” Wilson said. “It’s one I haven’t seen before. It’s at least
fifteen inches long, though.”
“I’ll have the lab
get on that,” Eli said. “Any other evidence on the body?”
“Clean. Look at
the throat, tell me what you see.”
Eli examined
Tanner’s throat. It was crushed at the Adam’s apple but there wasn’t a mark on
it.
“How is that
possible?” Eli asked.
“You tell me,”
Wilson said.
“It takes time to
crush a man’s throat, even if you’re twice the size of the victim,” Eli said.
“Maybe he stabbed
him first to weaken Tanner?” Wilson said.
“Maybe?”
Eli stared off
into space for a moment.
“What are you
thinking?” Wilson asked.
“Nothing. Call me
if you figure out the knife,” Eli said. “The lab boys will be by later to take
a look.”
*****
Eli called Art Howe, the captain of his
division and
asked him to meet him in the office. Howe was a tough, no nonsense cop with
thirty years on the job. He fought in Germany and France in the First World War
and was as fearless as he was fair-minded.
While Howe looked
at the crime scene photos, Eli drew a little diagram on a legal pad.
“The killer enters
through the street tunnel that leads to the basement where the garbage cans are
stored,” Eli said. “He opens the door to the parking garage, kills Tanner and
slips out the same
way sight unseen.”
“This fucking
city,” Howe said.
“The killer knew
exactly where Tanner would be and exactly at what time,” Eli said. “That took
some planning.”
“What do we have
on the victim?” Howe asked.
Eli gave him the
rundown on what he had so far.
“This is going to
take some legwork, Eli,” Howe said. “A guy worth seven million doesn’t walk
through life without some enemies and a lot of friends.”
“Agreed,” Eli
said.
“What about the
murder weapon?” Howe asked.
“The murder weapon
was the killer’s hands,” Eli said. “The stab to the spleen didn’t kill him, a
broken windpipe did.”
Howe sat on the
edge of Eli’s desk.
“The press?” Howe
asked.
“Nothing yet.”
“I’ll call a press
conference in the morning,” Howe said.
“Will you need
help on this one?” Howe asked.
“If I do, I’ll
pull Jack Bannon and Tyler,” Eli said.
“The City doesn’t
like its millionaires getting murdered, Eli,” Howe said. “Solve this one.”
“I’ll do my best,
Art,” Eli said.
Howe stood up. “Do
more than your best,” he said. “Do a miracle.”
*****
After Howe left, Eli sat in his
chair and mulled things over in his mind. The killer knew Tanner’s habits. That
required surveillance and lots of it.
Unless he was
close enough to Tanner that he was familiar with Tanner’s regular routines.
The killer didn’t
use a gun because in the confines of the underground garage a shot would have
sounded like a bazooka and alerted the guard.
Motive?
There had to be a
motive.
The phone rang and
Eli picked it up. “Lieutenant Rico.”
“It’s Roscoe in
the lab. We got the safe open.”
“Be right there.”
*****
The crime lab was located in the
basement. Roscoe was the lead crime scene investigator, a twenty plus year
veteran.
The contents of
the safe were spread out on a table.
Eli looked at
them.
“Jesus Christ,” he
said.
“And then some,”
Roscoe said. “Let’s start with the cash. Fifty thousand in stacks of ten
thousand a stack. One ring box containing one wedding and engagement ring. Some
pretty expensive women’s jewelry. An insurance policy for two million dollars.
His…”
“Wait,” Eli said.
“Who is the beneficiary?”
“Rosa Garcia,”
Roscoe said. “As of a month ago. Prior to that it was blank.”
“Blank?”
“That’s what I
said, Lieutenant. Blank.”
“What else?”
“His portfolio of
investments and statements,” Roscoe said. “He was worth close to eight million
dollars. Bank records of transactions, that kind of stuff. One key that I
believe is for a bank safe deposit box.”
“Is that it?”
“That’s it.”
“What bank?”
“Manhattan First,
according to the stamp.”
“Let me have the
key,” Eli said.
Roscoe gave him
the key.
“I’ll take the
insurance policy, bank records and rings,” Eli said. “I’ll have my guys bag the
rest into evidence.”
Roscoe nodded.
“Anything else?”
“You can count on
that,” Eli said.
*****
Eli read the insurance policy at
his desk. Tanner purchased the policy five years ago, but hadn’t included a
beneficiary until recently when he added Rosa Garcia’s name.
His initial
thoughts on the rings proved incorrect. His first reaction was the rings
belonged to Tanner’s wife and he saved them as keepsakes. However, the rings
were new, less than two months old and purchased at Tiffany’s for six thousand
dollars according to the receipt folded inside the box.
“Six grand?” Eli
said aloud. “It takes me ten months to make six grand.”
He read through
the financial reports. Most of it didn’t make sense to him. A lot of buying and
selling of stocks and commodities. He would have to get in touch with the
financial banker to spell it all out.
Eli made a note of
the banker’s name. Leo Carson Jr. His office was on Park Avenue South.
Eli stood for a
moment and stretched. He lit a cigarette and went to the window. A wino was
asleep on a bench across the street in the tiny park that faced headquarters.
There was a knock
on the door and a detective named Tyler entered carrying a cardboard box. “The
stuff we gathered from Tanner’s apartment,” he said and set it on Eli’s desk.
“Anything
interesting?” Eli asked.
Tyler shrugged.
“Okay, thanks,”
Eli said.
Tyler left the
office and closed the door.
Eli emptied the
box on his desk. There were two date books. One for business, the other
personal. The business date book had regular appointments with Carson Jr.,
along with appointments with a real estate agency. There was no name, just the
name of the agency. The West Side Real Estate Agency, located on West 57th
Street.
In the personal
date book, Tanner wrote everything down. Everything from haircuts to trips to
his shirt maker to what brands of cigars he wanted to buy.
It was apparent to
Eli that Tanner forgot more than his cigars on a regular basis and needed to
write everything down to remind himself.
Eli opened the
photo album. There were dozens of family photos of his parents and his wife.
Nothing unusual and nothing out of the ordinary.
He picked up the
large envelope marked contents of pockets and dumped it. One thousand dollars
in twenty dollar bills rolled and held in place with a rubber band. Five
hundred dollars in his wallet. His driver’s license and a New York City issued
gun permit. His checkbook with one hundred thousand dollars in the account. A
gold Zippo lighter, the real thing.
Eli picked up the
phone and called the squad room. Tyler picked up.
“Hey, get in here,” Eli said.
Tyler came in a few seconds later.
“His car keys,
where are they?” Eli asked.
“They weren’t on
the body or in the car,” Tyler said. “Or on the ground.”
“He has a gun
permit, does he own a gun?”
“I don’t know,
Lieutenant.”
“Find out.”
“It’s ten o’clock
at night,” Tyler said.
“In the morning
then.”
Tyler nodded and
returned to the squad room.
Eli took his chair
and lit a fresh cigarette.
Who wanted to kill this Guy?
What was the motive?
Where are his keys?
Where is his gun?
Eli picked up the
phone and called Wilson.
“Don’t you ever go
home?” Wilson said.
“On his body, did
you find a set of keys?” Eli asked.
“If I had I would
have already given them to you,” Wilson said.
“Thanks.”
Eli hung up the
phone.
‘In the morning
then’ sounded like a good idea.
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