SR murders-23

Chapter twenty-three1

On Saturday the storm held off until evening. Then with an early darkness came the deluge, between the lightening crackling in the sky and the thunder exploding in their ears the boaters made a joint decision to return to the mainland. So they were having dinner in The Crabby Shack by eight and admiring the wrath of nature from the safer distance on shore.2

Newspaper was spread across the wooden plank table and on top of it were clean brown paper bags. Stacks of tan paper napkins were piled to one side and a caldron of drawn butter was centered on the table. Nutcrackers, picks and prongs with a small tub for the butter, if you wished to disguise the fabulous taste of the ugly creatures, were supplied to each dinner. Sandy had a small salad but the guys settled for messy corn on the cob to tie in with cave style meal. Everybody had beer.3

When the steamed crab legs were dumped ceremoniously on the table Sandy yelped. The guys laughed enjoying the young lady’s response, this was comical relief compared to her fearful reaction to the storm.4

An attractive blonde lady, several years Sandy’s senior sat down beside her and smiled indulgently. “Wretched way to eat dear—you feel rather barbaric don’t you? But the taste is well worth it.” 5

Her male companion circled around the end of the table, parked across from her and next to Neil Harris. “Ray Detragleia,” he said and offered his hand to Neil and then Joe. “My wife Carmen.”6

Joe reached over to accept the gesture and grinned. Judge Detragleia had dressed down, the jean shorts, navy- tee and sneakers were in style with his much younger wife’s hip-hugging shorts and cut off belly shirt. Still, Joe recognized the gray haired tyrant he been called to testify before countless times. Detragleia hadn’t said judge so Joe only acknowledge with “Ray. Joe Farley, Neil Harris and Sandy Hart.”7

“The storm drive you off the water to?” Carmen asked.8

“That ocean can be wicked scary.” Sandy’s pretended shiver made everyone laugh. 9

Carmen and Ray proved to be extremely talented at hosting any event. The evening moved along with the pleasant easy-going camaraderie of strangers coming together in a casual atmosphere of good food and amusing chatter. The two women were soon exchanging make-up tips and the best shopping news. The guys found common ground in boating, and sports trivia. Before the night ended promises were made to meet again which ultimately wouldn’t be kept.10

Joe let Neil drop Sandy off not only because he’d picked her up but, because it made him feel less committed.11

The storm continued well into the early morning hours of Sunday and even the air conditioner couldn’t prevent its noise from disturbing Joe’s sleep. It was nearly eleven when ,a bit bleary eyed, he toted two large cups of black coffees passed the desk sergeant. One thing he was certain of he would need at least a gallon of coffee to stay awake and complete the task he’d set for himself.12

He located the files Benson left on his desk along with the document numbers for easy computer access to Cody Vaughn’s research.13

In quick order Joe realized he could pretty much ignore the paper files. Cody had set up the computer files so clearly, Joe decided, even some of the computer illiterate Brass could understand them. 14

Alone in his office he began to study the information on each case; then copy and paste into a new document only the information pertaining to the victims and the murder scenes, minus all mention of names, address and so on that could be traced to a specific individual. 15

His journey through their work convinced him Brad and Cody hadn’t wasted their overtime pay. Joe reached some of the same conclusions they had. Hal Goodwin could be cleared. Neil Harris could be cleared. Pamela Murray fit in too perfectly with the other victims to be ignored. 16

The only inconsistency was the manner of her death. The killer had knifed her. Actually gutted her in the process. Why in this case did he change his MO? Did he know her and have a personal connection? If he was the same killer, that of course took Mark Gheil’s girlfriend out of the equation. No matter how small Pamela Murray was at 112 pounds, no way could the petite Bridgett O’Reilly have gutted her.17

From his pocket he removed two unused flash drives; shoving one into the UBS terminal he downloaded only the new document he constructed. On the other he made a second copy then added the full-length files the information had been taken from. He carefully labeled each and slipped them into his pocket. This would be proof positive that he hadn’t compromised the investigation if someone discovered his intentions.18

Joe Farley left the city owned building that housed precinct 66 at a few minutes past six, his stomach started to remind him nearly an hour ago that it wasn’t satisfied with just coffee. 19

On the short drive to Mallory’s pub, Joe began contemplating the coming month with his daughter. The thought of being totally responsible for an adolescent girl suddenly made him nervous. His apartment was small, he was in the middle of a big case, was it fair to bring her here. Of course his sisters would be there for him, that’s why a fellow had sisters. He found a grin. He’d been blessed with three, all older and each one bossier than the next. Already they’d planned a load of activities for their niece, and were busy cleaning and rearranging his apartment so he hadn’t been able to find anything in days.20

With this murder investigation on his plate, it was going to be tough for him to take time off to spend with Becca. Benson was more than holding up his end—he couldn’t shove more work on his fellow officer—or could he--again he grinned. 21

Joe pulled into a parking space that was waiting for him in front of the pub. That was a rarity maybe his luck was changing. Then he thought of Sandy? 'What would he do about Sandy?' He could no longer brush her away with the nonsense that she could be his daughter. She was seriously penetrating his thoughts, causing emotions that created complications he didn't need. 22

The cool smoky air and dim light greeted him as he entered the pub. He bellied up to the bar and said to Matt, “I'll have a draft.”23

“Joe.” Sandy came out of the kitchen. A wide smile was imprinted on her mouth and lighted her face. “Yesterday was great,” she said.24

“Sure was.” He tried to sound casual. “If dodging lightening bolts is your thing.”25

She actually giggled. He noticed the glances of some of the patrons convincing him they knew what took place and that this young lady informed them. It was only a boat ride, he tried to convince himself, and Neil was with them. 'Damn he was going to kick Neil’s ass.'26

“Hungry?” she asked. “ We have a Boiled New England Dinner for the special.”27

“Sounds good.” Toting his beer, he walked to the rear and parked at the last table.28

When Sandy returned with his order, Joe said simply, “Thanks.”29

Sandy stood for a couple of moments as though expecting Joe to continue their conversation. When he didn't, she turned away and went back to the bar.30

Joe quietly ate his meal and drank his beer, thankful that Sandy was busy waiting on other patrons. He didn't want to hurt her. Shit! He didn't know what he wanted. 31

Sandy came back and asked, “A refill?”32

“Please.”33

They were being too polite, like strangers, not like two people who had been friends for two years. Sandy maintained her distance. Joe didn’t like it. Damn Neil! Joe sat, watched the Yankee game on television, and waited for Neil’s ten after ten arrival.34

When unexpectedly, Sandy also served Neil with barely a word, Neil eyed Joe suspiciously and asked, “Is there a problem?”35

“Yeah, Sandy's pissed and hurt. I knew that boat trip was a bad idea.”36

Neil was quiet for several minutes and then he said, “You find her attractive?”37

“Of course but I don't need the complication.”38

“Are you certain of that?” Neil gazed at Joe with his penetrating eyes. 39

“You playing Cupid, Neil? Don't psychoanalyze me and I don't need you to match make for me.” Joe fingered the flash drive in his pocket. He’d left one in his glove compartment—this was the shorter version. “Now I have a proposition for you. Something that might keep you out of my hair. You want to get at the victims’ files—suppose you have some agenda of your own besides helping me?” 40

He held one hand up to halt Neil’s protest. “I really don’t care. I need a profiler. I need to get in the killer’s head—make certain we are after a certain type. If I bring in the State boys, someone’s going to leak something to the news that will cost me my ass. You just have to give me your word you won’t use any of this information until we catch the perp, and I tell you it’s safe.”41

Neil took a long drink from his Coke. When he set it down he said, “I thought I was a suspect?”42

“You never were with me.” Joe took the backup drive from his pocket. “So let me worry about that.” He didn’t admit Neil had been pretty much cleared. He held out the lighter size gizmo. “We got a deal?”43

“Deal.” Neil agreed and pocketed his contraband. He eyed the TV and said, “4 to 5-- close game.”44

“Just so long as we got the 5,” Joe answered.45

“Got tickets for Wednesday night’s game—you interested?”46

Sandy had paused at their table.47

Joe looked up at her and grinned. “Neil was telling me how he’s got two tickets for Wednesday Night’s Yankee game. He can’t use his—so how about you come along with me?” He ignored the shocked expression on his friend’s face.48

“Great!” Sandy’s face lit up like the world was suddenly a nice place to live in again. 49