Secret Radio Murders - Draft 2 - Chapter 14

by Geri Fitzsimmons & Andy Stephenson1

“I mentioned your name to Gheil. Probably said something about the bar…of course, he was pissed off, especially after those detectives visited the studio.” Neil Harris’ admission the previous night cleared one mystery for Detective Sergeant Joe Farley.2

‘So Neil had mentioned his name to Mark Gheil. Told him they often met at Mallory’s.’ Farley had been tempted to return Gheil’s call, and then decided against it. Since the man had no way to know if Farley received the message, why change their status? He didn’t mention the call to Benson for the same reason; when they braced the producer this morning, he wanted it to be fresh with no prior contact. 3

Since Gheil finished his tour of duty around six in the morning, the two detectives met at 5 am at Duncan Donuts for a good cup of coffee before confronting the producer on his home turf. They’d catch him just before he left the office; after a long night, he wouldn’t be quite so sharp.4

Over their steaming coffee and calorie-loaded croissants, the detectives exchanged lists they’d jotted down covering the questions each felt would glean the most information. 5

Then they took pens and crossed out the duplicates from each other’s list, which left them with only a few stray questions to memorize. 6

“We’re both on the same page,” Farley said.7

“Mostly.” Benson shrugged his shoulders. “But do you think it’s smart to mention his present squeeze. The lady’s a lawyer and as such he may not bring her into the situation. Especially since they haven’t been together that long. Lawyers can cause unnecessary problems.”8

Joe sipped on the rich black coffee and considered for a minute. Benson had something there. Why say anything concerning Miss O’Reilly, esquire. “Good point. We’ll let him tell us about her—if he wants -at least for the present.” In twin action they slipped the napkins they’d been writing on into their palms and smiled up at the waiter. 9

The young man had stopped in front of them with a full coffee pot. Now he indicated their cups and asked, “Warm up?”10

“It hasn’t cooled down yet,” Benson said. “Suppose he’ll have some.” He snapped and flicked his fingers towards Farley. “He drinks liquid fire.”11

“You just come on?” Farley asked as he watched the youth top off the little he drank of the hot coffee. 12

“You kidding. I’m off at six.” The youthful waiter said. “I’ve been pounding this counter all night. Got a class at nine.”13

Getting old, Farley thought. He said to Benson as the waiter moved away. “Looks to be high school not college age.”14

The thirty something just grinned. Then he asked, “Got any preference for working this?” 15

“Suppose you’ve thought on it some. I have,” Farley admitted. “What do you say, you start off—carry the brunt. I listen. Add a question now and then so he doesn’t catch on. If I see an opening about something curious he’s said and you missed—I’ll jump in. Try to keep him off balance.”16

“Play him between us? Sounds good especially in a situation where we really have nothing.” Benson lifted his cup and swirled the beige colored coffee. Chancing his tonsils could finally tolerate it, he started to drink.17

Farley informed him, “I left Cody the files of all ten suspected homicides including Baines with instruction to run his own search for similarities. That fellow impresses me.” 18

Both their cell phones rang almost simultaneously.19

As Benson acknowledged, “Benson here.”20

Farley said into his, “Farley.” He was greeted by a familiar voice saying, ‘Tamanio’s relieving me at six. Goodwin had five pals over—all guys and they came about eight, so I thought it was the ball game. By midnight no one had left, so it must of been cards. I dozed in the car. Last two just took off now.’21

“Sorry about that. I’ll put a third man on the stake out. You can take over again at midnight.” 22

As Farley rang off, Benson said, “Tomanio reported Goodwin isn’t suffering over Michelle. Unless the cute little brunette he had lunch with yesterday is his sister.”23

“And it would seem he hosted an all night poker game.”24

“People cope in different ways.” Benson motioned towards the large white clock on the wall. “Let’s see how much pain we can give Mark Gheil.”25

26

27

Ten minutes later, Mark Ghiel tossed the jacket he’d been about to pull on, back on a hook without a hanger. The producer was silently but royally cursing himself for not leaving his office ten minutes earlier.28

“We won’t take up too much of your time Mr. Ghiel,” Brad Benson said. He and Joe Farley finished retrieving their shields and ID that they’d presented on entering Mark Gheil’s office. 29

“The station’s always willing to help the authorities.” Gheil dropped into his desk chair. “But it’s policy to have our legal representatives present so no one’s rights get violated.”30

Farley sat down on a chair that was to the right of Ghiel’s desk, while Benson hovered over the desk. Benson spread his hands palms up in mid-air. “Only an informal interview, Mr. Ghiel. We are not trying to step on anybody’s rights. A number of young women have died and we are trying to find out why.”31

“So we appreciate you giving us some of your valuable time,” Farley’s words were patronizing but his tone edged on insulting. 32

“We’d like to jog your memory some,” Benson said and stepped around the desk so he was at Gheil’s left side. “We’d like you to set up a scenario of the activity that took place when Michelle Baine called.”33

“Like I’m certain it was explained to the other detectives, we don’t take surnames. When someone calls they only give their first name and often that’s a phony.”34

“Oh, but we are certain Michelle Baine called the station the night before her death, Mr. Ghiel and you personally transferred her call to the Crisis Line.” Benson leaned slightly forward so Ghiel was forced to bend his neck back in order to maintain eye contact. 35

“When, Doctor Harris indicates it, I transfer the call. It’s a simple procedure, so why employ an extra technician to do it. But I am involved with many responsibilities during the airtime, rarely would I remember a single incident or phone conversation.”36

“Michelle was twenty five, alone and scared, she turned to you for help and now she’s dead.” Farley ‘s tone was accusing.37

Gheil’s head snapped towards him. But before he could come back with anything, Benson barked, “Michelle is dead. Don’t you owe her some consideration?”38

Sweat beads suddenly appeared on Mark Gheil’s forehead. He’d turned his face back towards Benson who had shifted ever so slightly behind him. Ghiel had to turn further to his left to see his face. That nearly exposed his back to Farley. The two detectives had sandwiched the producer. “There are so many,” Gheil’s voice took on a nervous whine. “So many lonely young women in New York our show provides them with communication.” 39

Farley coughed.40

Gheil's head rotated towards him, as he demanded, “You can’t expect me to personally feel responsible if one decides to end it all?”41

Farley’s eyes narrowed but he said nothing in reply. He removed a picture from the file he carried and laid it on the desk in front of Gheil.42

Benson remarked, “Michelle Baine, twenty five, one hundred ten pounds, five feet one. She had big blue eyes. She wasn’t just a voice on a phone.”43

44

45

Across town another slender young lady opened her eyes to a new day.46

When Bridgett O’Reilly rose from her bed at ten of seven in the morning, she was surprised to see the opposite side nearly empty. The only life residing where her lover’s body belonged, was a fury creature curled up on the pillow purring loudly.47

“Thomas.” Bridgett shooed him off the pillow with the reminder, “Mark is going to skin you alive. He hates your hair on his pillow.” The golden tiger cat sprawled on the end of the bed, preening himself where her fingers violated his fur and flashing glances defiantly at her. Bridgett grabbed Mark’s pillow gave it a shake and turned it over. She had an hour to get showered, dressed, and then drive three miles. Changing bed linens like most housework she left to the hired weekly service.48

“Bad, bad, Thomas,” she singsonged as she hurried through her morning rituals. Once Bridgett experienced the terrific water pressure in Mark’s oversized bath, she permitted herself an extra ten minutes of shower time. She stood happily allowing the water to pound away, turning her peachy flesh rose-pink while she planned a busy day. She ran her palms down her tiny waist to taut smooth thighs, and decided to forgo her morning run in the park. By arriving at the office early, she’d have the brief finished by noon; if she had to she could skip lunch,too. Her client’s appointment at two shouldn’t last much past three. She didn’t expect the judge would allow her more than an hour of his time to present arguments on Cushman’s behalf. She should make it back to the apartment by five. 49

Bridgett had fallen as deeply for the spacious ultra modern condo on east 54th street as she had its owner. That a frugal uncle who, according to Mark, cut the mold off of week old bread, should pass on, leaving him with this gem, had made the decision of who moved in with whom a no contest.50

She swept from the shower, wrapped in ivory toweling to a double-sink bathroom cabinet. A tooth brush, a quick combing of the short auburn curls that capped her head, a light touch of beige powder on her cheeks, completed her ceremony and she hurried into the bedroom to dress.51

Mark had been bringing head-work home with him so much lately that she was determined to take his mind off it tonight, or at least try her damnest. 52

Expecting to discover Mark had dozed off on the couch or was making her breakfast in the kitchen, she felt instant disappointment when she learned neither was the case. Mark just hadn’t come home. Why? Even if he had business at the studio, he usually came home for a few hours sleep before returning. Where could he be this morning?53

It didn't seem that it should be so difficult for Mark to get Dr. Harris a ten percent increase. She wondered if there was more going on than Mark had discussed with her. Her attorney’s brain didn’t appreciate being deprived of knowledge and tended to think the worse when it was.54

Shrugging off a slight annoyance that could grow into a big anger if she allowed it, Bridgett stopped in the unoccupied kitchen to indulged in orange juice and toast before heading for her office. She took her orange juice to the glass doors to pull back the blinds. The sunlight spilled through a light cloud cover. There was movement at the patio doors across the way; they began to slide open then stopped.