Keegan 00 Soft Case (5 page)

“Agnelli’s gonna have a pipe up his ass with this one.”

“He can’t fit another pipe up his ass.”

“He’s gonna be on top of us.”

“You wanted this case, if you remember. Just listen to me, and we’ll be fine.”

That didn’t seem to calm him at all. Not that I expected it would.

“When do we get the warrant?”

I looked at my watch. “About half an hour. We’ll go to the house around ten, and wait for the housekeeper. I don’t want her touching anything before we get there.”

“We going in the house before she gets there?”

I shook my head. “That plan was shot down by the higher ups. We wait for the housekeeper. Keep it low-profile.”

“This should be interesting.”

“For sure.”

Four

Geiger got us the warrant ten minutes earlier than expected. We got into the squad car, dragged through midtown morning traffic, and got on the LIE. Luckily, we were going against the traffic. We cruised to the Island, and Rick actually broke 70 on the way. I was impressed. I was also happy because I could smoke in the unmarked car. Rick wasn’t happy about it, but he knew better than to say anything. I smoked three on the way there, and we kept the conversations to a minimum. For that small moment in time, life was actually pretty good.

The rain picked up by the time we got to the house, contrary to the weather man who came on the radio and said we should see a clearing before eleven. Weathermen. No other words needed.

No new cars were in the driveway, or in front of the house. I glanced at the neighbor’s house, and saw him pull the shades back to take a look at us. He probably got on the phone with one of the other neighbors to talk about our presence. He struck me as the gossipy type.

I lit another cigarette, this time drawing a sigh from Rick.

“You should just go to the hospital and get a cancerous lung transplanted. Save you a lot of time and money.”

“Nah. I want the full experience.”

Despite the rain, Rick opened his window. I smiled.

“You enjoy this, don’t you?” he said, clearly aggravated.

“Smoking? Yes I do.”

“I think you do it to piss me off.”

“I don’t put that much thought into it.”

Rick replied something that came out as a weak huff, like he didn’t have the internal strength to really let out such a thing. It saddened me to think he was representative of the male gender.

I checked my watch. It was a little after ten. I hoped the housekeeper would get there early. Partly so we could get the tape, and also because I wanted to get a look at her. The neighbor said she was good looking. I liked good-looking women.

Rick’s cell phone rang.

“Yes,” he said.

The wife. I knew it.

“It’ll be late tonight. I told you that.” Pause, exhale. “You’ll have to cancel the plans.” Louder exhale. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” Pathetic. I took a drag from the cigarette and looked at him, smirking at him the same way he did to me at the station. His face turned redder. How nice. “1 can’t talk about it now. I can’t predict when I’m going to get an important case. I just have to take what I am assigned.” Or what you go after, I thought. “I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up the phone. For a moment, the way he was so quick with her, he almost seemed like a man. Almost.

“Women,” he said, “they’ll drive you nuts.” Common statement from a whipped man. They can’t mouth off to their wives, so they mouth off about them when they are not around. I figured I’d stoke his fire a little. Why not?

“They only drive you as crazy as you let them.”

He looked at me, quizzically. “What do you mean by that?” “Hey,” I said, raising my hands a bit. “I don’t know about your situation. I was just making a statement in general. Women will tighten the leash as much as you let them. Hand them a foot, they take it, and then expect more.”

Again the look. “I’m not getting upset,” he said, turning to look out the window. “I just wanted to know what you meant. She drives me nuts.”

“I bet.”

“I never get a break.”

“Not many of us do.”

Rick didn’t look happy - unusual for him.

I decided to change the topic. I pointed toward the house. “What do you think we’ll find on that tape?”

“Who knows? Something big. That’s what I’m hoping for. But then again, maybe nothing.”

“That would be a waste of time.”

“I don’t think that’s what we’ll find. His voice will be on that tape. Who knows what he said, but he’ll have said something.” “Let’s hope so.”

After about fifteen minutes, a gray Jeep Grand Cherokee pulled into the driveway. A short woman, with long black hair, dressed in a pair of sweat pants and a leather jacket got out. I couldn’t see the face, but I saw the ass. Nice. It looked firm, and giggled nicely in the sweats. I liked that.

“There’s our housekeeper,” Rick said, “Let’s go.”

“Yep.”

We got out of the car, and met the lady just before the porch. Rick pulled out his badge and the warrant. I didn’t bother producing anything. I looked at the woman. She had soft skin, and sparkling blue eyes. A real looker. She had those perky lips that you just want to lick, if you know what I mean. She was hot. A worker, I could tell. I got horny.

“Ma’am,” Rick said, “I’m Detective Calhill from the New York Police Department, and this is Detective Keegan. We have a warrant to get the tape in Mrs. MinkofFs answer machine.”

The woman looked puzzled.

“I’m sorry?” she said.

“I’m sure you heard about Mrs. MinkofFs son, Ron Mullins. He died last night.”

“Yes, I heard about it on the radio this morning. Shocking.” Though the woman was taken aback by our presence, she held her composure like a Hollywood actress. I wanted to boink her, right there. Drop the sweats and go to town. Probably wouldn’t help the investigation much. But she was returning my stare with a penetrating look.

She fumbled with her keys, and then looked closer at the warrant. “Okay. I suppose you know Mrs. Minkoff is not home.” “She’s in the Andes,” I said. “We heard. Any way of contacting her?”

“There’s a number where I can leave a message, but it usually takes a day or two for her to get it.”

“We’ll need that,” Rick said.

“It’s written down inside.” She opened the door, held it open for us, and led us into the living room. The place looked like a museum, with various artifacts and books on bookcases all about the room. The place smelled of pine. Not pine cleaner, but actual pine. Fresh.

The housekeeper took her jacket off, hung it in a closet in the next room, and came back to us.

“Your name, ma’am?” Rick asked. He pulled out the leather notepad he always carried.

“Roseanna Jenkins.”

“Address?”

She looked at him.

“Formality. That’s all.”

“1451 Skywood Drive, Levittown, New York.”

“How long have you worked for Mrs. MinkofF?”

“Six years.”

“When did she leave?”

She thought about that for a moment. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was wearing only a white t-shirt, and it displayed her ample bosom nicely. I needed to get laid, soon.

“Two weeks ago, Saturday.”

“And when is she expected back?”

“Is this an official questioning? Should I call my lawyer?” Housekeepers with lawyers, how interesting.

“Not at all,” Rick assured her. “I just need some background information. We are really only here for the tape.”

Roseanna, the sweet goddess, nodded.

“When was the last time you saw Ron Mullins?”

She looked up at the ceiling to think. I did too, and noticed the most peculiar light fixture I’ve ever seen. It had an orange glass ball, with golden trim around it. It wasn’t on, and I tried to picture what the room would look like with it on. Actually, I tried to picture a bed in the middle of the room, with Roseanna in a nightgown, straddling me. What a vision, and I didn’t have a hard time creating it.

“I think it was about six months ago.”

“How would you describe the relationship between Mrs. Minkoff and her son?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. From my experience, they didn’t see too much of each other. They’re both busy people. But I’d say they had a close mother-son relationship.”

“Okay.” Rick jotted a few things down. Roseanna looked at me, as if wondering why I wasn’t asking any questions. The only things I had to ask didn’t pertain to the investigation. Like, “What color underwear are you wearing?” or “Do you prefer the top or the bottom?” Top, I could tell. No need to ask. She smiled at me, and for a moment. I thought she knew what was running through my mind. I looked at her hands. No ring. Beautiful.

“Where’s the answering machine?” Rick asked. I knew Rick didn’t even consider the woman sexually, though I wondered how that was possible. She reeked of sex. He only saw her as an information source for his case. Nothing else. Plus, he had the wife to worry about. Sucked for him.

“In the kitchen.” Rick took a plastic evidence bag out of his jacket pocket and got up. I did too, after mentally checking if anything of mine was sticking out, if you know what I mean. Nothing was detectable, that’s all I’ll say.

We made our way to the kitchen, which was a modern job. Steel refrigerator, a huge one, steel stove, steel dishwasher. The refrigerator struck me as odd, considering the lady, as far as we knew, lived alone, and wasn’t home often. The stove was in the middle of the room, with an exhaust hood over it. The walls were paneled dark, and there wasn’t much light in the room. A glance at the ceiling produced a normal fixture in this room. The kitchen was a sharp contrast to the living room. I guess Mrs. Minkoff kept the strange items in one room. Smart.

Roseanna turned on the light, and pointed to a counter on the left side of the room. The answering machine was an old one, thankfully, which meant it used a tape instead of digital recording. That wouldn’t have been a big deal, but it was easier to take a tape instead of the entire machine. Mrs. Minkoff probably wouldn’t be happy with the fact that she wouldn’t be receiving any messages for a while. Too bad.

Rick went over to the machine, hovering over it like a kid over a big wrapped box at Christmas. He almost looked cute. He opened the machine, took the tape, and placed it in the plastic bag. He took it all so seriously. I kept my gaze on Roseanna’s nice behind. She was standing next to Rick, watching what he was doing closely. Every few seconds, she curtly glanced over at me, and I smiled at her in my most sinister way.

“Okay, we have the tape,” Rick said. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a business card. “If you hear from Mrs. Minkoff, please contact me.” I wanted to let Rick know that we needed the number to contact Minkoff, but Roseanna was one step ahead of me.

“Do you want that phone number?” she asked.

“That would be nice,” I said, smiling again. I’m a bastard, I know.

“It’s over here.” Roseanna glided over to the kitchen cabinet, opened it, and read the number off a piece of paper taped inside it. Rick jotted it down in the notepad.

“Is she expected to contact you soon?” I asked.

“She sometimes calls on Thursday.”

“So, you might hear from her tomorrow,” Rick expertly deduced.

“Yes.”

“Please let us know if she does.”

“She’s going to be devastated.”

“We’re you planning on contacting her about her son today?”

“I was thinking about it, but I really don’t want to be the one to give her the bad news.”

“Does she have any contact at all to media?” Rick asked.

“In the Andes? I don’t think so.”

Real bright, Ricky-boy.

“Oh,” he said, “Gonna be hard on her.”

“Yes, it will.” Roseanna wanted us to leave. Well, at least she wanted Rick to leave. I thought about asking for a tour of the house, especially the bedroom, but this wasn’t the time or place. Maybe I could come some other time, for extra information.

“Thank you for your time, Ma’am,” Rick said. “Please do not hesitate to call us if you have any information.”

“I will.”

I scanned Roseanna’s face, this time with my detective eyes. I wanted to see if she was hiding anything. She didn’t appear to be. That sort of thing is tough to tell. You just need to be suspicious of everyone, and, even then, you might overlook something. Especially if you are looking at someone’s ass instead of their face. Not many clues to an investigation in a woman’s ass. At least, none that I have found yet. But I’ll keep looking, just in case.

We left Mrs. MinkofFs house, and got back into the squad car. I couldn’t get Roseanna out of my head. I needed to focus on the investigation, not my libido. I looked at the tape in the plastic bag between us. It was a standard tape, not one of those miniature ones most answer machines used. And, to my delight, there was a cassette player in the car. I picked up the plastic bag as Rick pulled away from the house, and he turned to look at me.

“What are you doing?”

I held the tape in my hands. “Cassette tape,” I said, then gestured to the player, “Cassette player. Makes perfect sense to me.”

“What if the tape gets jammed in the player?”

“We take it out then.”

“And what if it gets damaged in the process?” Rick asked. He always worried so damn much.

“Won’t happen.”

“I’m not so sure we should take that chance.”

“I didn’t ask you. Listen, we both want to hear what’s on this tape, and I can’t think of a better time to do it than right now.”

Rick sighed. “Go ahead.” It was too easy.

I popped the tape in the player, and hit the rewind button. I hoped that the woman didn’t get like 20 messages that we had to go through to get to the good one. That would only figure.

The tape didn’t take long to rewind, and started playing. There was a lot of feedback, but we could hear the tape clear enough. The first message came on.

“Professor Minkoff, this is Harold Neidemeyer, from last semester’s Anthropology class. I wanted to know if you had that copy of my paper. Please call me back at 677-0296.”

So Mrs. Minkoff was also a professor. How appropriate. Perhaps a little Indiana Jones in her. It actually sounded kind of hot. I didn’t go for older women, but hey, nothing wrong with a little adventure. Life surely needs it these days.