SR murders-10

Secret Radio Murders1

by Andy Stephenson and Geri Fitzsimmons2

Chapter Ten3

They’d shot hell out of the morning; noon was slipping by into afternoon when Brad Benson joined Joe Farley in his office for a war council. Neither had bothered with lunch.4

“Looks like it’s our baby.” Benson collapsed in a chair. “Can you believe this frigging shit? They want us to take on ten homicide investigations and keep it quiet.” Benson knocked his head against the back of his chair several times. “We’re being dumped on. The Brass is covering their asses and exposing ours.”5

The outburst made Farley grin. “Don’t overdose yet Brad. Remember, like Cabonetti says, taken individually there was nothing suspicious about these suicides. It’s only when you lump them together in a short time frame that the situation becomes questionable.”6

“Yeah, right.” Benson removed a pack of Kools from his shirt pocket, then apparently thought better of it and replaced them. “Damn, they expect us to only use only the guys already assigned to us. That doesn’t tick you off?”7

Farley rotated his head slightly on shoulders that had been caring someone else weight for years and awarded his companion with a knowing smile. “Have your cigarette Brad.” He pulled open a draw and handed a smokeless ashtray to him. Then he placed the files he’d toted back from Taylor’s office on his desk and sat down. “The grunge work on each case is done. We are not going to back track on what others have already completed. We can concentrate on the files and let the computer search for similarities or connections. We’ll use office help to feed the info into the program. In the mean time we can keep investigating Michelle’s case. And keep our eyes opened for any new case.”8

Benson sat up straight. “He’s not done is he?”9

Farley shrugged his shoulders. “You don’t really believe no matter how great we are, there will be a sudden, neat conclusion. The killer nabbed and executed. We may have to settle for a compromise—maybe just drive him out of New York.”10

“I could live with that.”11

“I don’t think I can,” Farley admitted. “This bastard has mocked the best police force in the world for months. I want his ass.”12

There was a sharp rap at the door.13

Hayes came through. A satisfied grin wide on his face, he doffed his hat and announced, “We got Hal Goodwin in interrogation.”14

For the first time since the sun rose that morning, Farley’s day looked bright. “Already. Give us a quick rundown?”15

“Well Sarge it was easier than we thought it would be. We found the deli where Michelle regularly ate lunch. The guys there not only recognized her but Hal too. Seems that’s where they met and the fellows didn’t much like the relationship. They thought Michelle was sweet a kid and they’d figured Hal a streetwise phony. Guess they even tried to tell her—but…” He shook his head, “you know how that goes. Lucky us they knew right where the guy worked.”16

“And I gather he was there?”17

“ Since nine this morning; just waiting to be plucked.”18

“Great job.” He shook Hayes’s hand and turned to Benson. “Come on Brad,” Farley said. “Time we started earning our pay.”19

They paused in the conference room and watched the man on the other side of the two-way mirror. Hamlin had left him sitting alone, promising to bring him a coke. The gray metal furnishings were cold and uncomfortable even in summer. Goodwin squirmed in the chair—lifting himself now and then by placing his palms on the edge of the seat on either side of his butt.20

“I could kick myself in the ass for this,” Benson snapped, “I never even looked for this guy.”21

“Hey. You can thank Neil Harris,” Farley admitted. “If it wasn’t for the Doc, I wouldn’t have been drawn into this. God knows how many more bodies we’d have racked up before anyone caught on.”22

In a natural reaction of a Baseball fan, Benson groaned and said, “Son of a bitch is close to a Derrick Jeter look a like, no wonder Michelle went gaga over the guy. You think it’s him?”23

“I never take guesses, let’s brace him?” Farley turned the handle.24

“Hal Goodwin?" asked Benson as they moved into the narrow windowless room.25

"Yes," the nervous young man answered. “Do I need a lawyer?”26

“Not unless you have something to hide?” Farley sat across from him. “This is only an interview.”27

Benson said, "We're Detectives Benson and Farley. We just have some questions regarding Michelle Baine." He leaned on the table at the side of Goodwin.28

"Yes, that’s what the other officers said earlier. Is there something wrong with Michelle?"29

Ignoring his question, Benson asked, "How long have you known Ms. Baine?"30

"About six months," answered Goodwin. "What’s happened?"31

Again ignoring his question, Benson inquired, "When did you last see her?"32

"About two weeks ago. Is she okay?" He seemed genuinely concerned.33

Farley took that moment to say bluntly, "She's dead."34

The detectives both watched Hal's face closely as he paled and seemed shaken. "Dead? How?"35

"Let's just say her death is still under investigation," said Benson. "Can you think of anyone who might want to harm her?"36

"No! Nobody would want to hurt Michelle. She hardly knew anyone in New York. Just the people at work. Michelle’s dead!" He rubbed at his temple and forehead. “Dead?”37

"How long did you live with her?" asked Farley.38

"A couple of months. Actually not a full two."39

"Why'd you move out?"40

"Things were going too fast. I wasn’t into the marriage bit—and that’s all she could talk about."41

"Did you part on amicable terms?" Farley continued.42

"Well, she was kind of upset, but it seemed the right thing to do. It wasn’t fair to her to string her along. Dead?" That last word was whispered. “Can I have a drink?”43

“Sure,” Benson stepped to door and was awarded with the coke Hamlin had been waiting to deliver. 44

“Thanks.” Goodwin took a long swing then set the can down and said, “You have to understand. I like Michelle a lot. But she has these picky ways—that could drive yah bonkers.”45

“You fought?”46

“Not like that. Christ you couldn’t have a fair yelling match. Michelle never yelled—she’d cry. She’d make you feel like shit over the dumbest things. You dropped a dirty sock—God would strike you dead. You left a glass on a table—the world was coming to an end… I can’t believe she’s dead.”47

“She kept things neat?” Benson said.48

“Not just neat. She was obsessed.”49

Farley asked, "She had a set of cups and a cup holder on the counter?"50

"Yeah, so?" 51

"Did it matter to her whether the cups were in the holder or in the cupboard?" asked Farley.52

"That's an odd question," replied Hal. "She always kept them in the cup holder. She’d flip if I put one in the cupboard."53

"And the coo coo clock. Did it work?"54

Hal grinned at a memory. "I could've strangled that bird, that bird would come out and chirp the wrong count every time. Something was screwy with the dial—I tried but it couldn’t be fixed."55

"There was a bird then?" questioned Farley.56

"Of course, a cheap, plastic, yellow bird. Michelle loved the silly thing."57

"How often did you fight?" asked Benson suddenly.58

Hal blushed and said, "She'd get after me about smoking or being sloppy, but we really never actually fought. In fact I lied to her when I left. I told her I was coming back in a few weeks."59

“I think she knew. She put the few things you left behind in storage cartons,” Farley said. “That’s how we traced you.”60

"You’re making me nervous, Was Michelle killed or something? Am I a suspect?" 61

"Let's just say that you’re a person of interest, at this time," Benson concluded.62

“Then I can leave?”63

"Of course. Thank you for your help, but don't leave town without contacting us," said Farley.64

Goodwin couldn’t vacate the station fast enough. He even refused a lift back to work. “I’ll take the subway,” he said.65

They watched him hurry away, and then Benson pointed to the wall clock where the small hand was nearing three. “My stomach’s meeting my spine.”66

“Guess we deserve some lunch,” Farley agreed. “I’ll drive. What do you think of Goodwin?”67

“First impression? He didn’t hurt the girl. But then maybe he’s just too smooth and clever.”68