Chapter One Harvey Mason

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

McKenna

by

Robert F. Clifton

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

McKenna

Copyright 2015 by Robert F. Clifton

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be

reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any

means without written permission from the author.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dedicated to the memory of

Louis Berges.

Since you went first, your job

is to find the best fishing spots up

there. I miss you Pal.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The reader is advised that this is a work of fiction. Any similarity

of names or persons, places or events contained in this book is strictly

coincidental.

R. F. Clifton

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Preface

 

Detective Sergeant Kevin McKenna knelt down on one knee next to the victim. He was careful to avoid the small, drying puddle of blood that had hemorrhaged from the gaping wound located at the rear of the dead man's skull. It was still dark, making it difficult for him to see or gather evidence. He would wait. Sunrise was two hours away. He had to have patience. He couldn't rush. This and other things he had learned from his police officer father, Thomas McKenna and his godfather, Captain Robert Wallace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Table of Contents

 

Chapter One.....Harvey Mason

Chapter Two.....The Puzzle

Chapter Three..Social Problems

Chapter Four....Speak no Evil

Chapter Five.....The Informant

Chapter Six.......Persons of Interest

Chapter Seven..Brotherly Love

Chapter Eight....Speak of The Devil

Chapter Nine.... Talons

Chapter Ten.......Song Chi

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

Harvey Mason

 

A cool October breeze blew in from the ocean. As it did it brought with it a misty haze that could be seen in the light given off by the street lamps that illuminated the boardwalk. It made the water vapor to appear like gold dust moving gently through the night. Occasionally a rush of air moved white grains of still dry sand across the planking, sand that would be removed at five o'clock in the morning. That was when city maintenance men arrived each day to sweep and hose away sand, dirt and peanut shells that had accumulated in front of the stores located on the wooden walkway. Boardwalk property was the most valued real estate in Nautilus Beach, New Jersey. That being so Boardwalk merchants paid high taxes. Those that rented paid two thousand dollars a frontal foot per month and that was for the tourist season and the price was considered a bargain. As a result the merchants demanded and were given extra services like the daily cleaning in front of their stores. They also demanded that city ordinances be enforced by the local police.

At one time the elite traveled from Philadelphia by train and were met at the railroad station by chauffeur driven limousines and conveyed to the beach front hotels. In the evening they strolled the boardwalk or were pushed while seated in rolling chairs, the men attired in coat and tie and the women draped in fur. That was then. This was now, October 2013 and times had changed.

Now, the homeless walked the boardwalk stopping the tourists to panhandle for money. Some lived under the boards unwashed, infested with lice or addicted to either drugs or reinforced cheap wine. It became a problem for the police to contend with. Those governing the city refused to spend funds to house, feed or tend to the homeless leaving those problems to the charitable organizations. At the same time the police didn't want those homeless who were arrested for violations of city ordinances. Housing them created a constant need to fumigate the jail cells and bedding. The result was to keep the dispossessed moving, moving away from the store fronts and customers, away from the fortunate.

At 3:37 A.M. on the morning of Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Patrolman William Hampton was on foot patrol. As usual he checked the doors of the business establishments making sure the owners or employees had locked up upon leaving. He also looked for any signs of tampering or attempts of forcible entry. At the same time he examined the large, plate glass display windows of the stores confirming to himself that they were intact. Once he did that he then left the boardwalk and where possible examined the rear of the shops.

Hampton's assigned patrol area was the six block length of boardwalk from Neptune Ave. to Poseidon Ave. It was at Poseidon Ave. that the local electric company was installing iodine vapor lights and those up and running cast a gloomy, orange glow over the boards. The patrolman left the rear of the stores and walked up the ramp to the boardwalk where he would continue his duties. He looked towards the orange light and from where he stood he was able to see something or someone laying on the walkway. He began to increase his stride, making his way to whatever was there. When he was close enough he made out the figure of a man laying face down. Once he was there and in the orange radiance Hampton could see the small, puddle of blood. Instantly, he knew there was nothing he could do to save the man. Using his flashlight he was able to see that the rear of the man's skull had been crushed. He reached for his portable radio and called into headquarters informing them of what he

had found.

Detective Kevin McKenna knelt down on one knee next to the victim. He was careful to avoid the drying puddle of blood that had hemorrhaged from the gaping wound located at the rear of the dead mans skull. It was still dark making it difficult for him to see or to gather evidence. He would wait. Sunrise was still two hours away. He had to wait. He had to have patience. He couldn't rush his investigation. That was one of the many things he had learned from his Police Officer father, Thomas McKenna and his godfather, Captain Robert Wallace. Both who had served and retired from the Nautilus Beach Police Department.

Kevin McKenna was born to Irish Catholic parents of August 1, 1989. Those who knew him and his family believed that he was destined to become a policeman. There was a rumor that on the day of his Baptism in an emergency his diaper was held together by his fathers police badge. Later, he learned his catechism from the nuns at Saint Mary's Parochial School. At Nautilus Beach High School Kevin was an excellent student and excelled in sports, particularly basketball and track. Upon graduation from high school he enrolled at Stockton State University and majored in criminology. When he graduated his father wanted him to apply to the F.B.I.. His mother wanted him to remain at home. His mother won the debate and Kevin took the civil service test for the Nautilus Beach Police Department.

Upon graduation from the police academy his father made sure that his son was assigned to the patrol division where his son walked a beat day and night for three years. There he learned the elements necessary for the career police officer. He learned how to deal with the public in a professional manner, listening to what they had to say. Showing concern for their problems large or small he developed a rapport with a number of citizens who would speak to him later in his career as he sought information.

He got lucky when after only four years in the ranks the police department held civil service examinations for promotion to the rank of sergeant and lieutenant. Kevin took the test and was number two on the qualifying list. Promoted to Sergeant he was assigned to the Major Crime Squad, a place where his father and Captain Robert Wallace had served. As a young police officer he stood at six feet tall and weighed one hundred and ninety pounds. His blue eyes and light brown hair he inherited from his mother, Molly.

Now, he stood in the orange glow of iodine vapor lights looking at the remains of a dead man who appeared to have been murdered. He waited for the sun to come up over the horizon.

Needing daylight in order to see, to gather evidence he knew that daylight also brought with it problems. He pushed the transmit button on his portable radio.

“Sergeant McKenna”, he said.

“Sergeant?”, answered the dispatcher.

“I'm going to need uniformed personnel at this crime scene for crowd control. At sun up there will be pedestrian traffic and bicycle riders”.

“Received”, said the dispatcher.

McKenna stood watching and listening to the crowd that had begun to gather. He saw the curious staring at the body and the puddle of blood. Others looked and turned away. Some questioned the uniformed officers with, “Who is he? How did he die? Who did it? Is he dead? When did it happen?” As he watched and listened the sun came up over the ocean horizon and he began to search with his eyes, looking for any sign of evidence. When it was light enough he removed a pair of latex gloves from the inside pocket of his dark blue blazer and put them on. Kneeling again he saw the clear plexiglass fragments among the blood and brain matter about eighteen inches from the feet of the victim Pointing to them McKenna said to the forensic technicians, “I want photographs of these and measurements”.

Next he saw the bulge in the dead mans rear pocket. McKenzie reached in and removed a worn, black leather wallet

Opening it he found no cash but a social security card along with identification revealing that at one time the man known as Harvey Mason had been a patient at the Veterans Hospital in Wilmington, Delaware. In addition there was the business card of the Mission House, a place where the homeless ate and slept.

Removing the small notebook he carried from his coat pocket Sergeant Mckenna wrote down the information. Now in the morning sunlight he turned towards the beach seeing the sand and small rolling waves coming in and breaking on the shore. Seagulls up with the dawn were flying low over the water searching for a meal. “The sun is coming up out of the east. The body face down is pointing north”, he wrote. Again he turned, this time seeing the store fronts and some fifty or more yards away the Regal Hotel. He made it a point to remember to talk to the night crew of the hotel. Perhaps they saw or heard something.

Sergeant McKenna waited and watched the crime scene

technicians take photographs and collect evidence. He made sure that the plexiglass fragments were gathered and secure. Finally,

he saw a fireman using a high pressure hose from a pumper wash away the blood and brains of a man once known as Harvey Mason.

McKenna used his radio again. “Sergeant McKenna”, he said.

“Go ahead Sergeant”, replied the dispatcher.

“I'm leaving the scene and will proceed to the hospital.

If you need me I'll be in the morgue”.

“Received”.

Thirty minutes later McKenna walked through the double doors of the hospital morgue and pathology department. When he did he was met by a sea of white. White walls, white tile flooring, white basins, white, painted steel gurney's and a doctor and attendant draped in white surgical gowns stood looking at him. “I'm Sergeant McKenna”, he said.

“Good morning Sergeant. I'm Doctor McIntyre. This is Randolph Cummings”, said the doctor pointing to the attendant.

McKenna nodded his head and smiled.

“I understand that there has been a murder and that the body is coming here”, said McIntyre.

“That's correct”, McKenna replied.

He just finished speaking when once again the double doors opened and a uniformed ambulance driver pushed a gurney containing a black body bag.

“Put it right here”, said the doctor.

When the stretcher was in place the driver stepped back turned and left. Doctor McIntyre unzipped the bag and took a look at the body it contained. He looked at McKenna and said,

“Whoever and whatever hit this man did it with enough force to shatter both occipital bones. When I say force I'm talking about the fact that the skull has been driven inward to the brain”.

“There was what appeared to be brain matter in the blood at the scene”, said McKenna.

“If there was blood it couldn't have been a large amount. This man, from what I'm seeing died instantly from what we call a depressed fracture”, the doctor replied.

Sergeant Mckenna took out his notebook and wrote, injury and cause of death a depressed fracture

“Let's have Randy here undress the body. Then I can better examine and see if I have to make further determinations”, said the doctor.

“If you don't mind. Would you removed the right shoe?”asked McKenna.

When the shoe was removed and handed to the detective Mckenna reached inside and removed a five dollar bill. “Just as I thought. The homeless, destitute and wino's carry what little money they have in their shoes. Anyone living on the street know this. Since the money and shoe are intact that more or less eliminates a vagrant as a suspect. Thank you”. McKenna wrote the serial number of the bill in his notebook.

Once the body was disrobed the pathologist walked up to the gurney and with rubber gloved hands pushed and probed parts of the dead mans body. “There doesn’t appear to be any other broken bones or wounds. However there is what appears to be a splinter in the bridge of his nose. That probably is a result of falling face forward on the wooden boards of the boardwalk. Randy let's turn the body over so I can get a better look at the fracture”, said McIntyre.

With the body face down Doctor McIntyre examined the back, buttocks and legs of the cadaver. “Once again, no signs of broken bones or wounds. So, let's take a look at this skull fracture. Hmmmmn. What have we here? Randy, get me a pair of forceps”, said the doctor.

Armed with the forceps the pathologist entered the head wound and removed an object. He then walked to the sink and washed the blood off of what he was holding with the surgical instrument. After looking at what he had removed he said,

“Looks like what even hit him was either made of plexiglass or contained plexiglass. I assume you want this as evidence”.

“Yes, I do. We found the same thing at the crime scene”,

McKenna replied.

“Well, that's up to you to identify what was used to kill him. Are you staying for the autopsy?”, asked McIntyre.

“Not if you're confirming the cause of death to be a fractured skull”, Mckenna answered.

“Then, I guess we'll get on with opening him up”.

“I'll pick up your autopsy report later”, said Mckenna as he turned and left the morgue.

McKenna drove to the Garwood section of town, a place with housing projects and neighborhood taverns, where they still tossed sawdust of the floor and a city park where the homeless and winos spent most of the day panhandling or drinking cheap wine. It also was where the Mission House was located.

The Mission House was operated by some off shoot Protestant Church Group and it fed and provided clothing and a place to sleep at night for those without shelter on a daily basis.

The only problem was there were only fifty beds and the homeless were numbered in the hundreds.

When he entered the Mission House he was met by a long haired bearded man who said, “You don't look homeless. What do you want?”

Before he could answer McKenna heard a female voice say, “Can I help you?”

“Yes. I'm Detective Sergeant Kevin McKenna. I'd like to speak to someone in charge”.

“Come on back. I'm in the kitchen and I have things cooking on the stove. I can't come out there”.

McKenna followed the sound of the voice and then walked into the kitchen. There he saw a young woman. He judged her to be in her early twenties. She was petite with dark brown hair and brown eyes. She didn't use makeup. She didn't need it. Looking at him she said, “So Detective McKenna, what can I do for you?”

“Are you in charge here?”, he asked.

“At the moment. Actually, I'm a volunteer. My name is Whitney Nelson”.

“Well, Miss? Is it miss or Mrs.?”

“It's Miss”.

“Well Miss Nelson, we're investigating what appears to be a homicide. We have identified the victim as one Harvey Mason. I found the business card of the Mission House in his wallet. I'd like to know if he was here and when. If possible I'd also like to talk to anyone that might have known the man”.

Whitney Nelson wiped her hands on the apron she was wearing. “Good luck with that. Most of the men out there either fear the police or dislike the police. I guess they think that way from being either harassed by the police or being arrested as vagrants”, she said.

“What they consider harassment is moving them out of parks, boardwalk and beaches where they panhandle for money. Those arrested are usually trespassing when they sleep in the laundry rooms and hallways of apartment buildings.”

“They do that to get out of the cold. Be that as it may. I sincerely doubt if anyone out there will talk to you”.

“Well in that case I guess I'll have to talk to you”, Kevin replied.

“Then, I suggest you start with your questions”.

“Fine, what can you tell me about Harvey Mason?”

“Well, like many of the men he was an Army veteran.

I believe he served two tours in Iraq. As a result they said that he suffered from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

“When you say they, are you talking about the V.A. hospital?”

“No, I'm saying that's what others said he suffered from”.

“I see. The reason I asked was because I found a card showing that he was An outpatient at the Veterans Hospital in

Wilmington, Delaware”.

“I do remember that he had a problem getting there.

He couldn't afford to take a bus”.

“Did he have any enemies?”

“Yes, an unappreciative society”.

“Spoken like a true social worker”.

“Is that what you think I am? I told you I'm a volunteer here”.

“So you did. Why?”

“I could say why not. Instead I'll say I volunteer because when I was five years old my mother and I were homeless. A place like this took us in, gave us three meals a day and a place to sleep. They also gave me and address so I could go to school. So, this is my way of giving back”.

“Since you volunteer here, where else do you work?

“I'm a teacher at Garwood Elementary School. I teach third grade.

“Then, if I needed to get in touch with you again how would I do that?”

“I thought you said that you were a detective.”

“That would mean doing it the hard way. It would be a lot easier to just give me your address and telephone number”.

“Do you need them for professional or private reasons?”

“Both”

“Really, why?”

“Professionally for my report, privately because I'd like to get to know you better”.

“Are you hitting on me?”

“Yes, yes I suppose I am”.

“Well, at least you're honest. However, if you would really like to get to know me then you can find me here every Saturday and Sunday and the school Monday through Friday. Here, I'll be behind the counter serving meals”.

“Then, it looks like I'll see you on Saturday. What time?”

“I serve breakfast at seven”.

“And lunch?”

“We don't serve lunch. Supper is at four”.

“Then I'll see you at four on Saturday”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two

The Puzzle

 

Kevin McKenna sat at his desk looking at the fragments of plexiglass taken at the scene and from the skull of Harvey Mason. Picking up the papers on the desk top he read again the reports submitted by the Forensic Unit. Basically, the report stated that the fragments had been tested for DNA with one matching the victim. The second sample was not matched with any DNA on file. A smudge on one shard of plexiglass appeared to be a partial fingerprint, but there was not enough loops and whirls to make up a valid print. At the time of testing no determination can be made of what the plexiglass evidence collected is or what it was before fragmenting. The wood splinter removed from the victims nose is yellow pine, the same type of lumber used in construction and maintenance of the Nautilus Beach Boardwalk.

After reading the report McKenna leaned back in his chair and continued to gaze upon the pieces of plexiglass. “What the hell is this stuff and what was it before it broke apart”? He asked himself mentally.

Detective John Collins seated at the desk next to McKenna watched Kevin who appeared to be deep in thought.

“Having a problem Mac?”, asked Collins.

“Just trying to figure out what this pile of glass use to be”, Mckenna answered.

“Mind if I take a look?”, asked Collins.

“Be my guest”.

Collins got up and walked over to the desk and leaned over in order to get a close look at the small pieces of evidence.

“Hmmmm. Beats me. Have you thought about putting it back

together?”, he asked.

“No, do you think it can be done?”

“We won't know unless we try”.

“What did you have in mind”,asked McKenna.

“It should be like putting a puzzle together. The question is do we have enough pieces to know what it is when we finish”.

“Let's hope so”.

“O.K. we're going to need an adhesive. Super glue should do it.”

“Do you have any?”

“Nope, but I'll go and get it. To be on the safe side I'll get three tubes.”

“O.K. while you're doing that I have to report to Captain

Myers.”

Sergeant McKenna knocked on the office door of Captain Carol Myers. At one time she had been the partner of Kevin's father Tom. She knew when Kevin had been born and was at his Baptism. Now, as she neared retirement she had witnessed Kevin's entrance to the police department, his transformation from patrolman to detective and his promotion to Sergeant. She had assigned him to the Harvey Mason case and was waiting for his initial report. “Come in”, she said.

“Good morning Captain”, he said.

“Good morning. Have a seat”, she replied.

“Let me start by saying I don't have too much”, said McKenna as he opened his small notebook.

“Suppose you just tell me what you do have and I'll judge the merit of your investigation”.

“Yes Mam. The victim is a Caucasian male approximately fifty years old. His only known address is Mission House here in Nautilus Beach. His cause of death according to the pathologist and medical examiner is a depressed fracture of the skull”.

“How bad was the fracture?”, asked the Captain.

“Bad. It was located at the rear of his skull. The pathologist referred to that area as the occipital bones. He also called them the four sided trapezoidal which is the back of the skull or the base”.

“I see. Go on”.

“This is just my opinion, but who ever struck Mason used a great deal of force”.

“How do you come to that opinion?”

“Because of the amount of damage to the skull”.

“Let me stop you right there. You are aware that the skull of humans can be at times as hard as concrete or as weak as the shell on a hard boiled egg. Did the pathologist inform you of the type of skull the victim had?”

“No Mam”.

“Then I advise you not to render your opinion on Mr. Mason's skull. Should we make an arrest let the pathologist make that statement. Go on”.

“The victim appeared to have been struck with enough force that he fell face forward resulting in a wood splinter piercing his nose”.

“Interesting. Do you have a murder weapon?”

“No. However, I did find shards of clear plexiglass about eighteen inches behind the feet of Mr. Mason. Doctor McIntyre found a piece of the same material imbedded in the victims skull”.

“Do you have any idea what the plexiglass came from?”

“No Mam. Not yet. Collins and I are planning on trying to

piece together what fragments I have hoping to get and idea of what was used as a weapon”.

“Alright. How much do we know about Harvey Mason?”

“Not too much. He was an army veteran and a patient at one time at the Veterans Hospital in Wilmington Delaware he evidently slept and ate at the Mission House located in Garwood.”

“Do you have any suspects?”

“No, but I ruled out the other homeless. I found his money in his right shoe”.

“Is that it?”

“Yes Mam. That's it right now. Here is my typewritten report and naturally if and when something new pops up I'll let you know”.

“Fine. And by the way, don't rule out other homeless people as suspects just because he had money hidden on his person. The killer might have been scared off and didn't have time to take off the shoe.”

Kevin left the Captain's office and returned to his desk. When he got there he found John Collins waiting for him. “I got the glue”, said Collins.

Together and two hours later using long tweezers the two detectives meticulously pieced the plexiglass fragments, joining each piece that fitted to another other. When they were finished they had constructed an incomplete, convex shaped object. It appeared as a clear partial cup or bowl. “Well, there it is, but what the hell is it?”, asked Collins.

“I don't know, but I want photographs taken. While that's being done I'll type up a report”, said Mckenna.

On Friday, October 18, 2013, Sergeant McKenna

stood outside the classroom door of Whitney Nelson's third grade class. When the bell rang ending the teaching period Whitney Nelson followed the children out of the room. When she saw Kevin she smiled and said, “Don't tell me. I bet you have more questions to ask me?”

“As a matter of fact I do. Where would you like to have dinner tomorrow evening?”

“I usually have supper at the Mission. Do you find anything wrong with that?, she replied.

“No, except the fact that it's too public and I can't ask the questions that I want to ask”.

“I see. Well, knowing that the menu for tomorrow's supper is tuna casserole and salad you offer a much better choice. So I'll let you pick the place. However, you should know that by the time I finish cleaning it is usually late”.

“How late?”

“Like seven o'clock”.

“Suppose I help you clean up?”

“You're willing to do that?”

“Absolutely. I washed dishes when I worked my way through college”.

“Fine, then I'll see you tomorrow at the Mission House”.

“What time do you start serving?”

“Four”.

“See you then, unless I get called out on a case”.

“I understand”.

Back and headquarters Kevin sat looking at the convex plexiglass object he had taken out of the locked desk drawer. Collins saw him and said, “Come up with any idea what it is?”

“Not yet. I could be part of a headlight, the kind mounted on a ATV or a large flashlight”, McKenna answered.

“From what you told me about the injury to the victim he would have had to be laying down if he was hit by an ATV (All Terrain Vehicle)”.

“True, but you asked me for my ideas”.

“Yes I did. Then, if it was a flashlight, what kind was it?

A Kel-lite comes to mind. It is heavy. Swung fast enough and hard enough it could crack a man's skull”, said Collins.

“You might have something there. The Kel-lite was invented to replace the police baton. I never liked it as a replacement. Like you said, it is heavy enough to crack or break bones. A lot of officers began using it too freely resulting in brutality law suites,” said Kevin.

“Who found the body?”

“Bill Hampton”.

“Does he carry a Kel-light?”

“I don't know”.

“Better you check, old boy”, said Collins.

“I will, but let's look at the Kel-light on the internet. I want to see if they have a model with a convex lens cover. If they don't then we can rule it out as the murder weapon.”

Kevin swung his chair around and then facing the computer typed in the words, Kel-light images. After clicking on search in less then a minute, pictures of the Kel-light models of the flashlights manufactured and available for sale appeared. None had a convex lens cover. All were flat. “Well, that takes care of that idea”, he said.

“Then what the hell can it be?”, asked Collins.

“Whatever it was Mason was hit with enough force that it shattered the base of his skull. It also knocked him off of his feet. When that happened he skidded face down where he picked up a splinter in his nose from the boardwalk”.

“From what you're telling me it still points to something like an ATV”, Collins replied.

“Yeah, only that's not what killed him”.

The next day, Saturday Kevin drove downtown parked his car in front of Angelo's barbershop walked in and waited for a chair to empty. As he waited he read the few articles in the local paper written by news reporters who instead of presenting the facts gave their opinions which didn't amount to much. Nonetheless, those articles misinformed the public and that pissed him off. To him freedom of the press had become freedom to bullshit the people. As usual the writers criticized the police department for not protecting the citizens of Nautilus Beach. At the same time they were critical of the mayor and commissioners of the city for not doing enough to help the homeless and destitute. Kevin folded the newspaper and placed it back on the table next to him.

While he was having his hair cut he talked with the barber, Joe DeNato. Mostly they talked about the Philadelphia sports teams and in particular the Eagles and Phillies. Naturally Joe wanted to talk about Mason's murder and Kevin answered avoiding as many details as he could. Returning home he showered and dressed then drove to the Mission House.

McKenna smiled as Whitney handed him an apron. “I really didn't expect you to show up”, she said.

“One of the first things you will find about me is that I'm a man of my word. Besides we have a dinner engagement after we're done here. Remember?”

“Yes, I do. Come with me I want you to meet Reverend Simon. He is the director of Mission House. I told him all about you and how you are volunteering your time to help out here”.

“You shouldn't have told him that. He might expect me here all of the time”.

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

“Well, not if you're here at the same time”, Kevin answered with a smile.

Reverend Howard Simon seated at his desk looked up from the paper work he was doing when Whitney knocked lightly on the office door. “Whitney, how nice to see you. And, this must be the young police detective you were telling me about”.

“Yes, he is. Reverend this is Kevin McKenna. He is helping me in the kitchen today”, said Whitney.

Reverend Simon got up and walked around the desk. He shook hands with Kevin and said, “Young man, Thank you for coming in today. As you will learn we need all the help we can get. That goes for financing as well as manpower”.

“No need to thank me Reverend. Actually, I'm here to help Miss Nelson”.

“I see. Still, if it is just a one time thing we appreciate you being here”, Reverend Simon replied.

“Well, since he said he's here to help me I have a lot of pots and pans that need washing. I'll put him to work right now', said Whitney.

“Reverend, it was nice meeting you”, said Kevin as Whitney led him away.

As he entered the kitchen again he saw the large pans of tuna noodle casserole, salad, baskets of bread and two large pans of lemon Jello. Then, he saw the families. Men, women and children of various ages were standing in line waiting patiently to be admitted and fed. Behind the formation of families the homeless men began to take their place in line He walked to the deep sink turned on the hot water spigot and after adding detergent began to scrub and wash the pots that had been used for cooking.

At eight fifteen that evening Kevin and Whitney were seated by a large plate glass window that overlooked the parking lot of the Olympic Diner. Whitney studied the menu and looked up from the printed page when she felt Kevin watching her. “Is there something wrong?”, she asked.

“I hope not. I'm just wondering if you are disappointed that we didn't go to a better place to eat. Since I had no idea just when we would be finished at the mission I couldn't make reservations for an exact time. Knowing the places I would have liked to take you to I knew that the later dinner crowd would

have taken all of the good tables. That happens on Saturday nights”.

“Kevin, this is fine. Don't start treating me as if I'm some society girl like the one's you probably know. I told you, I grew up on food from charity kitchens. In college I lived on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I made them with bread that I bought at the Day Old Store. So, to me eating in a diner is thought of as a luxury”.

“You're sure?”

“I'm positive. Read your menu. I think I'll have the meatloaf”.

“That sounds good and by the way I don't know any society girls”.

After the waitress took their order Whitney took a sip of water and after placing the glass on the table said, “Now, just what do you want to ask me?”

“Oh, many things. I want to know all about you, your likes, dislikes, interests, hobbies habits both good and bad”.

“So you think I might have bad habits. Is that it?”

“No, it was just a figure of speech”.

“I thought you wanted to ask me questions in relation to Harvey Mason's murder”.

“I do and I will, but right now that can wait. That's work. This is pleasure and at the moment I'm off duty”.

Whitney smiled, “Alright my likes, let's see, I like people, children, my job, helping people, puppies and kittens. My dislikes? Snobs, that won't help the needy of society. Politicians that only take care of themselves and the rich. Religious leaders who are in truth, hypocrites and the list goes on'.

“Spoken like a true, Social Democrat”, said Kevin.

“That's twice now that you've used the word social in relation to me. When I first met you, you said I sounded like a social worker. Now, you referred to me as a social democrat”.

“If that offends you, I'm sorry. I mean no disrespect”.

“I'm not offended. I'm just pointing out the fact that you may think of me as a socialist. I'm sure you know that a true socialist is a member of a political party or wing that supports socialism. I do not belong to any such organization. However, I do believe in equality. Everyone should be able to have a job, an education, a roof over their head and three square meals a day. If that means I'm a socialist, then you may be right”.

“No, I don't think that you're a socialist, but I do believe that you are one beautiful optimist. I just hope that someday the people in this world are what you wish them to be”.

“Thank you. So, you think I'm beautiful”.

“Yep, you sure are”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Three

Social Problems

 

 

Kevin McKenna walked into the main lobby of the Regal Hotel. When he reached the desk clerk the man behind the counter said, “Good day sir, welcome to the Regal. How may I help you?”

“I would like to see and speak with the head of hotel security”, McKenna answered.

“That would be Mr. Holtz. May I ask your name sir before I call him?”

“You may. It's Detective Sergeant Kevin Mckenna of the Nautilus Beach Police Department”,

“Thank you sir”.

Kevin watched the man push three numbers on the telephone and heard him mention his name and rank. Hanging up the telephone the desk clerk said, “Mr. Holtz ask that you come to his office. Take the elevator to the second floor. His office is at the end of the hallway”.

After stepping off of the elevator Kevin stood looking for the hotel security office. Every door in the second floor hallway was identical except one with frosted glass and he walked towards it. When he got to the door he knocked once turned the door knob and walked in. A balding, portly man sat behind a desk cluttered with the Daily Telegraph. “You must be the police sergeant that wants to talk to me. Have a seat. What do you want to know?”, asked Holtz.

“Well, since you haven't introduced yourself, let's start with your name”, McKenna replied.

“That's easy. It's Stanley Holtz”.

“Alright Mr. Holtz. As you know there was a murder out there on the boardwalk on Tuesday, October 14. As a matter of fact it happened about fifty or sixty yards from the boardwalk entrance to this hotel. What I'd like to know is if your night security force saw or heard anything that morning”.

“I doubt it. Each security officer is required to submit incident reports at the end of their patrol shift. If anyone saw or heard anything I would have seen it in a report. No one reported an incident on the morning that you are mentioning”.

“Interesting. What kind of incidents do your personnel report?”

“Drunks, guest rooms broken into, money and/or jewelry missing or lost. Damage to guests automobiles in our garage. Things of that nature”.

“You haven't mentioned trespassing”.

“Oh, that. Once and a while a hooker will come in off of the street, usually by cab. They try to get upstairs to the John's room. Other than that the only problem we have is with the homeless bums out there. In warm weather they climb up the stairs and sleep in the chase lounges on the sundeck. We use to file charges, but now we just chase them away.”

“What about fall and winter?”, asked Kevin.

“As far as I know they sleep under the boardwalk. They seem to sleep and live if you will, next to the outside, concrete wall of our heater room. I've never been under there, but we figure that that wall must be producing enough heat to keep them warm under there”

“And, you say you don't go under there?”

“I mean not me personally. You see Sergeant, I work at the pleasure of the Barnett bothers. Charles Barnett views the homeless out there the result of gambling casino's in neighboring Atlantic City. He believes that some went there looking for work, most of them to freeload. As a result, he wants them moved and away from and out of the area of the hotel. On the other hand Steven Barnett is pro gambling and pro casino. He sees the homeless as people that come as a result of progress and to be ignored and dealt with by the charitable organizations and churches. So that puts me between the two brothers both of which are my bosses. One day we move the homeless other days

we ignore them”.

“I see, then what did your people do on the morning of October 15?”

Holtz looked at the calendar on his desk then answered.

“Steven was on and about that day, so I can easily say that if there were any homeless about, they were ignored”.

“Can you give me the names of the security guards that were on duty the morning of the fourteenth of October?”, asked Kevin.

“Certainly. Would you like me to write them down for you?”

“No, that's not necessary. I'll do that”.

“Very well. Mike Thompson and Sheila McCormick. Do you want their home address?”

“No, I prefer to talk with them here”.

“Then you need to know that both of them are off Thursdays and Fridays. Is there anything else I can do for you Sergeant?”

“No, you've been very helpful. Thank you”, said McKenna as he got up to leave.

Arriving back at headquarters McKenna briefed Captain Myers on what had transpired at the Regal Hotel. “I want to speak with the two security guards that were on duty at the time of the murder”, he said to the Captain.

“Why didn't you bring them in for questioning?”, she asked.

“I want them to be comfortable in their own setting”, he replied.

“I see. Alright, you're the one who will be working late. Give me a report, both verbally and written after you're done with them”, Myers ordered.

When he returned to his desk he took a seat, reached for the telephone and pushed the number buttons. After several rings a woman answered. “Hello?”

“Aunt Mary? This is Kevin”.

“Kevin, this is a surprise. Are you alright? Do you need something”,said Mary Wagner.

“I do. I need some information. I was wondering if I could stop by and talk with you”.

“Certainly you can. Come any time you wish”.

“Thank you. Is seven o'clock this evening O.K.?”

“Yes, that's fine. I'll see you then”.

As he was hanging up the telephone receiver Kevin looked up to see John Collins. “Anything new?, asked Collins.

“Not yet. I have to talk with two security guards at the Regal. In the meantime I'm seeing my godmother this evening. She was a local news reporter, but she still has contacts and her ear to the ground, as they say. I need to know what's gone on in this town.”

“Well, if you ask me nothing new ever happens here. Same old shit, day after day,” Collins replied as he waked away.

At six forty five that evening Kevin parked his car in the driveway of Mary Wagner Wallace. Although divorced years ago Mary Wagner still used her married name. Just as he was ready to ring the doorbell Mary opened the front door. “Kevin, how nice to see you. Come in. Come in. Can I get you something?”, she asked.

“No Aunt Mary, I'm fine”, he answered.

“Then have a seat and before you begin asking me what you want to know catch me up with your life young man. I had hoped by now that you would have had a wife”.

“No, no wife”, said Kevin.

“A fiance' or at least a girl friend?”

“Nope, sorry”.

“Are you still living in Robert's condo?”

“Yes, while he's in Australia”.

“He'll probably die in Australia. He just turned eighty and Sharon told me in a letter that his diabetes is chronic”.

“Well, at least he'll be among friends”.

“Yes, instead of loved ones”.

“Aunt Mary, you must know that he doesn’t want to be a burden on you. Coming home to Nautilus Beach would mean that you would rush to take care of him. He knows that. You would have to do his shopping, take him to the doctors, make sure he took his medications. You might even have to give him his insulin injections”.

“Don't you imagine that he will have the same issues in Australia?”

“Yes, I guess he does,” Kevin replied.

“Alright, let's change the subject. You said you need some information. What is it?”, asked Mary.

“Right now, I'm investigating a homicide. The victim was a homeless man killed on the boardwalk near the Regal Hotel. I learned that there might be a faction in this town that are anti-homeless. In particular one of the owners of the Regal Hotel.

Charles Barnett is said to be slightly more than anti-homeless. I'm hoping you can tell me something about him or the homeless problem here in town.”

“Oh, the Barnett brothers. Where to start? I can tell you this. Charles Barnett is a miserable man, but he is is no murderer. He's the oldest of the two. Steven, his brother is just the opposite. When I say opposite Steven is friendly, out going and many say a progressive businessman”.

“How progressive?”, asked McKenna.

“It is said that he has two Assemblymen in Trenton putting together a bill that would allow casino gambling in other cities in New Jersey. Right now as you know the Casino Gambling Laws only allow Atlantic City the right to have the casinos. Another

thing that is required is the number of rooms in a hotel casino. At present only the Regal would qualify”.

“I see, but I was told that Charles Barnett hates casinos and the results of casinos in a city”.

“That's right. You see, what happened was this. The business establishments in their haste to gain casinos in Atlantic City gave the casinos everything they wanted. Therefore, the casino's not only had the tables and slot machines, they had entertainment, alcoholic beverages, haberdasheries, jewelry shops, restaurants and even the souvenir counters. As a result those same type of business on Atlantic and Pacific Avenues were crushed. The gamblers coming into the city never left the casinos. They didn't have to. Everything they needed was right there in the same building”. One by one those businesses that were successful before casinos went out of business after casinos”.

“Interesting. I can see why Charles Barnett dislikes the idea of casinos in Nautilus Beach”, said Kevin.

“That's not the only reason. Prior to the casino industry coming into Atlantic City Charles owned a very successful restaurant on the White horse Pike. One year after the casinos he had to close the doors. Before casino gambling patrons that visited the seashore would stop at his place to dine on their way back to Philadelphia. With casinos the people after gambling and dining in the casinos just drove by his place.”

“I see”.

“What you don't see is Steven Barnett's desire to own and operate a hotel-casino in Nautilus Beach. Where Charles raises his voice at city hall demanding action be taken against the homeless Steven just assumes that as part of the casino package. The casinos draw pimps, prostitutes, drugs, the homeless and scams. But he's willing to accept those conditions in our city just as long as the Regal has and operates a casino license. Why? Money of course. Those adverse conditions I just mentioned mean nothing to Steven. He knows the mistakes those in Atlantic City made and he has no intentions of doing the same. His idea of hotel casinos in Nautilus Beach is a place to gamble and a place to stay. He has no intentions of disrupting local businesses. As a result many merchants are lining up behind him. The thing to keep in mind about Steven is that he is completely different then Charles, Steven is, for the lack of a better word, a libertine.

He has a different woman on his arm every week. Besides women his other interests are his classic automobile collection and flying.”

“Flying. Is he a pilot?”, asked Kevin.

“Yes, he keeps his Cessna at the Atlantic City International Airport. He use to keep it at Bader Field in Atlantic City, but that closed in 2006.”

“Very interesting, but why his interest in casinos?”

“It's well known that Steven Barnett has lost a great deal of money. In fact he lost big twice, once in Las Vegas and another time in San Juan Puerto Rico”.

“Do you think that the casino laws will be changed in Trenton?”, asked Kevin.

“Right now, no, but keep in mind that things can and often do change. At one time the casinos in Atlantic City could be visited by seventy five million people within driving distance by automobile. Then, over a few short years other states got into the gambling business. Casino like enterprises sprung up at race tracks where slot machines were made available to the horse players. A mini- casino was created in Philadelphia. You know the result. Competition began killing the golden goose. However, smart businessmen, men like Steven Barnett learn from the mistakes of others. Let me put it another way. Steven has the contacts and the money to have the law changed. If there is ever a casino in Nautilus Beach it will belong to the Barnett brothers”.

“I see”, said Kevin. Looking at his wristwatch he got up out of the living room chair. “I'm sorry Aunt Mary, but I have to leave. I have to talk to a couple of people this evening, so I better get going”, he continued.

“You're just like Robert and your father. Once you sink your teeth into an investigation you won't let go until you have the answers”, said Mary as she walked Kevin to the front door.

“If that's true then I had two great teachers. You take care Aunt Mary and if you ever need anything you let me know, O.K.?”

“I'm fine Kevin, but thanks for the offer. Come see me again and make it soon”, said Mary as she kissed Kevin on the cheek.

“I will and thanks for your help”.

“You're welcome. Stay safe”.

At ten forty five that same evening McKenna walked into the ground floor lobby of the Regal Hotel. The night clerk stood behind the registration desk talking to the switchboard operator.

When he saw Kevin walking towards him the desk clerk ended his conversation with the woman and greeted Mckenna. “Good evening sir. Welcome to the Regal Hotel”. The man stopped talking when he saw Kevin display his badge and identification card.

“You have two security guards, a Mike Thompson and a Sheila McCormick. I was told that they would be working this evening. I want to talk to them”, said McKenna.

“They should be in the Security Office. It's on the second floor”, said the clerk.

“I know where it is. Thank you”.

“Kevin walked to the empty elevator. The door to it was wide open and as he approached it he could see the marks left in the rug by the vacuum cleaner used by the night housekeeping crew. He stepped into the elevator cage, pushed the number two button and when the door closed he ascended to the second floor. When the door opened automatically he stepped out on to the second floor hallway and walked to the door with the frosted glass. When he got there he knocked once then turned the doorknob, opened the door and walked into the office of Stanley Holtz. A man and woman, both in a gray colored uniform with a shoulder patch reading SECURITY sat in straight back chairs. They both looked at Kevin when he walked in. “You must be Sergeant McKenna”, said the man.

“And, you must be Mike Thompson, or you better be”, Kevin replied.

“I am and this is Sheila McCormick”, said Thompson.

“Fine. I'm sure that Mr. Holtz has already told you why I want to talk to both of you”, said Kevin.

“It's about the murder that happened out there on the boardwalk, isn't it?”, said the woman.

“That's correct. Now, according to Mr. Holtz both of you were on duty the night, I should say on the early morning of October fourteenth. Is that correct?”

“Yes, that's right”, Thompson answered.

“Excuse me. When I ask a question it's directed to both of you unless I specifically ask you by name. Do you understand?”, asked McKenna.

Both guards nodded their heads.

“Good. Miss McCormick. Is it Miss or Mrs.?”

“It's Miss”.

“Fine. Tell me what you were doing on the early morning of October fourteenth”.

“We divide our time. When one of us is patrolling the hotel the other one is watching the security cameras”, Sheila answered.

“Security cameras. What security cameras?”, asked Kevin.

“There are security cameras located on each floor of the hotel. They're used to monitor the hallways. In particular we scan constantly for intruders, fire, things of that nature”, said Thompson.

“Where are the monitors?”, asked the Sergeant.

“Right through that door”, said the man pointing to an adjoining room.

“Are there cameras positioned in the outside perimeter of the hotel?”, asked Kevin.

“No, just in the hallways. We asked for them to be placed outside and also in the parking lot and garage, but the owners won't spend the money”, said Sheila.

“Even if there were perimeter cameras and it recorded anything occurring on the boardwalk that morning it would have been taped over by now. The bosses insist that we use the VCR tapes until they eventually wear out. As a matter of fact the camera in the second floor has been out for the past three days. It won't be repaired until next week. Budget problems they say” added Thompson.

“I see. Nonetheless, what I want to know is if either of you saw or heard anything unusual that morning”, said Mckenna.

“I sure as hell didn't. As I recall it was so boring that morning I had a hard time staying awake”, said Thompson.

“Unusual? I heard the breeze pick up and the pigeons came out from where they roost at night, but that's not unusual.

I think rats are up there at times searching for pigeon eggs. Unusual? No”, said Sheila.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Four

Speak No Evil

 

On Monday morning, November 11, 2013, Kevin McKenna sat alone in a booth inside the Olympic Diner. As he read the sports page of the Nautilus Beach Press detailing the events of Sundays game between the Philadelphia Eagles and the Green Bay Packers the scrambled eggs he ordered for breakfast were getting cold. From time to time he reached for the still hot cup of coffee in front of him, raised the cup to his lips and took several sips, all the while reading the article. Satisfied that the Eagles had won the game he turned the page to the local news. A small by-line caught his attention, LOCAL HOTEL OWNER BLASTS CASINOS. When he placed the cup on the table the waitress quickly came and refilled the cup with fresh, hot coffee. McKenna smiled and nodded his approval. Then, he began to read.

“On Saturday evening, November 9. 2013, Mr. Charles Barnett was invited to speak before the local Chamber Of Commerce. Mr. Barnett chose as his topic, Casino Gambling and It’s Potential In Nautilus Beach. Surprisingly, although his brother Steven and several members of the Chamber who are championing a Bill now in the State Legislature in Trenton were in attendance, Charles not only dismissed the need for casinos in Nautilus Beach, but he also condemned casinos in general. Mr. Barnett pointed to the fact that gambling casinos will not address the unemployment problem in Nautilus Beach. He cited as an example the fact that those hired for casinos are the experienced dealers, slot machine mechanics, bartenders, waiters and waitresses. These kind of employees come from other casinos, many from out of State. The unskilled are chosen last. Next, he related how in the beginning Atlantic City and its casinos was regarded as the La Vegas East. Then other cities in other States became competitive and the competition forced the closer of some of the Atlantic City casinos.

Mr. Barnett went on then to address the homeless problem in Nautilus Beach. He blamed the ever growing problem of homeless men, women and children as a product of casino gambling. In his opinion these people, chased the dream of opportunity in the gambling industry only to find out that there was no possibility of them finding a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. The result is that those chased out of Atlantic City now become the burden of the citizens of Nautilus Beach. He then warned that if casinos become a reality in Nautilus Beach social problems will only get worse.

In the audience there appeared two divided factions. Those advocating the casinos and those against the creation of them in Nautilus Beach. To this reporter it appeared that on this night Charles Barnett has the majority support of the merchants if not the voters”.

McKenna neatly folded the newspaper and placed it on the table. He picked up the check, took two one dollar bills out of his wallet and placed them under the plate that still contained cold, uneaten eggs. Leaving the newspaper he walked to the cashier, paid his bill and left the diner.

At headquarters he took a seat at his desk reached for the telephone and dialed the number for C.S.I. He waited for someone to answer and when they did he heard, “Crime Scene Investigation Unit. Officer Landry speaking”.

“Landry. This is Sergeant McKenna. Do you know if anyone has identified the object I put together along with Detective Collins?”

“Could you hold on a minute Sergeant? I'll see if anyone knows”, answered Landry.

After a few minutes a different voice said, “This is Sergeant Gains. I understand you would like information on the plexiglass we took at the crime scene, case number 7539768. Right now, we don't know what it is from. We are about to send it to the F.B.I. Lab in Virginia. When we hear from them we will let you know”.

“O.K. Thank you”, said McKenna. He then hung up the telephone.

John Collins walked up to where McKenna sat staring into space. “Looks like you're in a different world”, said Collins.

Kevin looked up and said, “Just deep in thought, that's all”.

“Thinking about the case?”

“Yes”.

“Well, if you need any help just let me know. I'm free. All my cases are just waiting for the prosecutor to set court dates.”

“Thanks John. Right now I'm looking for a motive and a suspect and I can't come up with either one. As a matter of fact, I can't even identify the murder weapon.”

“First of all relax. Someone, somewhere will I.D. the plexiglass. When it comes to motive who knows why anyone would want to kill a homeless guy? Hell, today he could have been killed just for kicks. You read everyday where young punks are beating up guys living on the street. Some have even been set on fire. To me, the thing to focus on is who. Who killed, what's his name again?”, asked Collins.

“Harvey Mason”.

“Let's concentrate on who killed Harvey Mason. When we nail the killer everything else will fall into place”.

“I thought I'd find something by talking to the two security guards at the Regal Hotel. who were on duty the morning of the murder. However, they said that they didn't hear or see anything. Had the hotel placed security cameras in the outside perimeter of the building we might have caught something on film. Even then, according to the guards the tape recordings of one day is taped over the next day”.

“Speaking of the Hotel Regal, did you hear about Charlie Barnett blasting casinos in a speech at the Chamber of Commerce meeting?”, asked Collins.

“I read about it in the newspaper. From what I've learned, Charlie Barnett is even at loggerheads with his own brother when it comes to casinos in Nautilus Beach”, said Kevin.

replied.

“Maybe he thinks that by owning his own hotel-casino he can't lose”.

“Well, as we know the house wins most of the time”.

***************

At four o'clock that same day Kevin McKenna leaned against the right front fender of his automobile. He had parked in front of the Garwood Elementary School. As he waited for Whitney Nelson to come out he looked up at the sky when he heard the honking of Canadian Geese flying in a V formation. As he watched their flight he heard a voice say, “They're beautiful aren't they?”

Kevin quickly turned his head to the sound of the voice and saw Whitney standing in front of him. “Hi, just imagine, I get to see two beautiful sights almost at the same time”, he said.

“Thank you. Why are you here?”,she asked.

“I wanted to see you”.

“Why? Is something wrong?”

“No. Thanksgiving is coming and I figure that you'll be serving at the Mission House. That being the case I'm volunteering my service as a dishwasher again”.

“Any particular reason?”, asked Whitney.

“Why would you ask a question like that?”

“Because I know that you're investigating the murder of a homeless man and the majority of the homeless will be at the Mission on Thanksgiving”.

“Let me put it another way. I know where you will be on Thanksgiving Day. As a result I can't take you someplace for dinner. Since I want to be with you on Thanksgiving if I have to wash dishes to be with you, then I'll wash the dishes. Hell, I'll even mop the floors”.

“Are you sure?”.

“I'm positive”.

“Well, this might be the last Thanksgiving dinner we'll be serving. There is a rumor that there is a political faction in town who not only wants to close the Mission, but to move it out of the city.”.

“Let me guess. I'll bet Charlie Barnett is behind it”.

“Him and others”.

“They're probably using the homeless and the Mission House as an example of social problems in order to kill the casino bill in Trenton”.

“Whoever it is I'm afraid they're close to being successful”, said Whitney sadly.

“I imagine Reverend Simon is upset”, said Kevin.

“Upset is not the word. Try angry. I've never seen Reverend Simon angry at anything, until now”.

“Well, I'm sure he has a lot invested in the Mission”.

“Actually, I'd say that the Mission is his life”.

“And now the Barnett brothers are out to close down his reason for living”.

“Not both brothers. Steven has helped the Mission several times. He has donated money and from time to time he sends left over food from the hotel kitchen, food that we can use instead of it being tossed in the garbage”.

“What kind of food?”

“Bread and rolls all of the time. Salad greens and dressing some of the time. Once in a while left over soup or stew”.

“That's nice of him. I imagine that the reverend appreciates all the help he can get”.

“He does and Reverend Simon and Mr. Barnett have become good friends”.

“That's interesting. I have another question”.

“What is it?”

“Are you ever going to tell me where you live or at least give me your telephone number?”

“I live with someone, so you visiting me at my home would be, how do I say it? Difficult”.

“Oh, I see. I didn't know”, said Kevin, disappointment in his voice.

Whitney smiled. “Let me explain. I have a young mother and her baby living with me. I took her in because the Mission House is no place to have an infant. You visiting me at home would be difficult for both of us. In order to enjoy each others company we would have to deal with diapers being washed and dried in the laundry room, formula being prepared in the kitchen and a young woman using a breast pump. I hope you understand”.

“Understand? You don't know how relieved I am knowing there's no guy living with you”.

“A guy? What kind of girl do you think I am?”

“I think you are, kind, considerate, a perfect lady and beautiful, just beautiful”.

“Good, and I can see how in our conversation one could jump to conclusions as you did”.

“Sorry”.

“Don't be sorry. Instead, why don't we spend time at your place”.

“Excellent. I was afraid to ask”.

“Here's what I suggest. Why not a quiet, little meal, during and afterward we talk and really get to know each other”.

“Just say when”.

“No. you say when. You plan the meal and the time. I will give you my telephone number. It's 609-500 4484. Do you want to write it down”.

“Nope, I just engraved it in my mind”.

The next day, Kevin met with Cordella Jenkins, his cleaning lady and housekeeper. “I want this place spic and span as they say. I'm having company at the end of the week and just between you and me, I want to impress”, he said.

“Now let me tell you something. When I finish cleaning, this place is always spic and span. It ain't my fault if you mess it up again. As for you wantin to impress your company and I'm supposin it be some young gal. Don't go tryin to get her between the sheets. Which incidentally I'll be sure to put on fresh one's once you tell me when this here rendezvous is takin place”.

“Kevin smiled. “I won't be trying to get her into bed Cordella. She's a lady”.

“Ummm hmmm. Heard that stuff before. You be a man and you men are all alike. You given this lady supper?”

“Yes, I plan to”.

“Whatcha got in mind?”

“Right now I don't know”.

“Tell you what. Once I get this place empty of the foul mess you made I'll cook you up a supper that will make her mouth water”.

“You would do that?”

“Certainly. This gal a down to earth woman or one of those fancy pants type?”

“She's one of us Cordella”.

“Good. I'm thinking my fried chicken, either hot or cold.

My homemade coleslaw, mashed potatoes, gravy and my sweet potato pie. How's that sound?”

“Sounds great. Naturally I'll pay you for your trouble”.

“Bet your ass you will. I'll show you how much I spend at the market”.

“That's not necessary. I trust you.”.

“Alright then. Get out of my way and let me get to work on cleaning this place. How much laundry you got?”

“The hamper in the bathroom is only half full”.

“Alright, clothes can be washing while I be sweepin, Go now and let me do my thing”.

At seven o'clock that Friday evening Whitney and Kevin sat at his kitchen table. He watched her as she buttered a biscuit.

“How is everything?”, he asked.

“Delicious. Now be honest. Where did you get it?”

“Are you suggesting that I didn't prepare this meal?”

“I'm not only suggesting, I'm telling you that you didn't do the cooking”.

“Actually, my housekeeper did this for me”.

“The chicken is out of this world”.

“She tells me the secret is lard”.

“That doesn’t surprise me. Lard has been and still is used in much of the world for frying food”.

“Yeah? Well I made the coffee”.

“Good for you Kevin. Good for you”, Whitney replied with a laugh.

After dinner Kevin filled the dishwasher and he and Whitney went to the combination study and living room. Whitney went immediately to the bookshelves that cover one wall from floor to ceiling. “That is quite a collection. I never suspected you to be an avid reader”, she said.

“Actually, I'm not. The books are the result of my godfather, Robert Wallace acquiring them over a period of years”, Kevin replied.

“I notice that the majority of them deal with criminal investigations and law”.

“Yep, that's why he was a legionary criminal investigator”.

“So, the books are not yours”.

“Nothing you see here is mine. Everything belongs to Captain Wallace, the books, the furniture and his collection of recorded music. I'm just the caretaker until he returns”.

“Where is he?”

“In Australia, a place called Rockingham”.

“When is he coming back?”

“No one knows”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Five

The Informant

 

Thanksgiving dinner was served to the homeless beginning at eleven o'clock in the morning. The early serving time was necessary due to the large number of people that began standing in line at nine thirty A.M. As usual families with children were served first.

Kevin McKenna stood behind a large, wicker basket filled with fresh rolls. Armed with long tongs he placed a roll on each persons tray as they stopped and stood in front of him. Behind him, back in the kitchen Whitney Nelson carved turkey meat, placing it on platters for the other volunteers to take to the food line to feed the needy. As the people in the line moved slowly from one station to another a man stopped in front of Kevin and after the roll was placed on his plate said, “You the cop they say is investigating Mason's murder?”

McKenna looked at the man noticing right away that he was one of the homeless. He had a two day growth of whiskers on his face and the watery eyes of a chronic alcoholic. In addition he was dressed in summer attire. He wore tan trousers that were too short and a Hawaiian shirt with its bold design on Thanksgiving Day. He wore no socks and a pair of what use to be white, canvas boat shoes. The toe of the left shoe was frayed.

It was evident that the clothing the man was wearing came from

those that were donated to the charitable organizations in the city. “Yes, I'm Sergeant McKenna”, said Kevin.

“Good, Harvey Mason was a friend of mine. When you got time I might have some information you can use”.

“First, who are you?”, asked McKenna.

“Names, Sam Wilcox”.

“And how much is it going to cost me for your information?”

“How about a couple packs of cigarettes and twenty bucks?”

“Fine, but as you can see, right now I'm a little busy”.

“No problem. I'll eat my meal and when I'm done I'll wait for you outside”.

“I'll be a while. I have to help clean up when we close”.

“Like I said. No problem. Besides, I don't want to be seen talking to a cop. I'll be in the boardwalk pavilion at Ocean Avenue. Take your time”.

When everyone was fed Kevin left the serving line and walked back into the kitchen. Whitney was spooning bread stuffing into large plastic containers. Seeing Kevin she smiled. “Did everything go alright?”, she asked.

“Everything was fine. Right now I have a problem”, he replied.

“What kind of problem?”

“Let's just say that duty calls. I have to leave. It has to do with the investigation I'm conducting”.

“I see. Naturally I'm disappointed. I was looking forward to spending the rest of Thanksgiving with you”.

“Whitney, I shouldn't be too long. Here's the key to the condo. Go there. Park in my spot in the garage. I'll call the doorman. Let yourself in and wait for me”.

“Are you sure?”

“I'm positive”.

“Then you go. Do what you have to do”.

“First, let me help you clean up this place”.

“No, the quicker you do what you need to do the sooner you'll be finished.”

“O.K. I'll see you in a while”.

Sergeant McKenna parked his automobile on the end of Ocean Avenue. As he walked up the ramp leading to the boardwalk he was met with a cold November wind coming in off of the ocean. At the top of the ramp he saw Sam Wilcox seated on a bench that faced the small crashing waves that in the distance rolled up on to the sandy beach. Kevin walked into the pavilion and sat next to Wilcox. “Alright. What have you got to tell me?”

“Where's my twenty?”

“In my wallet and it stays there until I decide what you have to say is worth it”.

“Let's talk about my friend Harvey”.

“What about him?”

“What do you know about him, like where did he come from?”

“I haven't had time to look into his background. Someone else is doing that”.

“I see. Well, for your information Harvey Mason was from Philadelphia”.

“Lot's of people end up here from Philadelphia”.

“Just between you and me there's more than you think”.

“What do you mean?”

“I'm sure you are aware that Charles Barnett has been raising hell about the homeless and the Mission House in Nautilus Beach”.

“I do”.

“But, I bet you don't know that he's the one that's bringing them into town from Philadelphia and Camden”.

“And just why and how would he want to do that if he's against the homeless in town?”

“Because he wants that new casino bill in Trenton squashed”.

“Charles Barnett seldom leaves his hotel let alone Nautilus Beach”.

“He don't have to. He's got others doing it for him?”

“Who, and how?”

“The fellow running the actual operation is a guy named Frank Bitterman. Once or twice a week he and two of his goons drive up to Philly. They ride up and down Race Street talking the homeless into moving to Nautilus Beach where they will have a place to stay and two meals a day”.

“There has to be a gimmick. What is it?”

“Gimmick my ass. It's a scam. In return for the place to stay and two squares per day those who decide to take the trip have to sign over their social security or pension checks”.

“And just where do they stay here in town?”

“The old Flemington Hotel”.

“That's really not in Nautilus Beach. That place is located in the Township outside of the city”.

“That may be, but it's close enough for those people to wander into town, walk the boards, visit the Mission and panhandle”.

“That's true, but what proof do you have that Charles Barnett is involved in this, what you call a scam?”

“Actual proof? None, but Harvey Mason was brought here just like I told you. On the trip down he heard this Bitterman fellow running his mouth saying how much he was making money wise being paid by Barnett”.

“How do you know this?”

“Harvey told me”.

“Harvey's dead and although I believe you, in a court of law your information is hear say”.

“That means in my way of thinking I'm about to get screwed out of the twenty dollars”.

“Not really Sam. Like I said, I believe you. As for the information you just gave me, I'll keep it in mind”, said Kevin reaching for his wallet.

Wilcox took the money and put it in his trousers pocket.

“I want you to know, that I'm no damn snitch. I only decided to talk to you because Harvey was my friend. I want the son of a bitch that killed him caught and punished”.

“Yeah, yeah. I understand Sam. If you want to help then keep your eyes and ears open. Right now I'm not only interested in who killed Harvey Mason, but what was used to kill him. Do you have any ideas?”

“No, I heard that whoever it was knocked his brains out. That true?”

“Just about. Here's my card. You hear anything call me. I'm not going to tell you what to do with the money. That's up to you. I will say this. You're no good to me all liquored up so try and stay off of the sauce”.

“I'll try Sarge, but you know I'm an alcoholic”.

“Yeah, I know, try to take it easy”.

*********************

After parking his automobile on the street across from the condominium building Kevin entered the lobby and asked the doorman if Whitney had arrived. Assured that she had he then rode the elevator to the sixth floor. With Whitney having his key

he knocked gently on the door. After a few minutes the door opened and she stood in front of him smiling. “Did everything go alright?”, she asked.

“Yeah, fine”.

“Are you hungry?”

“I could eat”.

“Good, I made a pot of coffee and I bought some roast beef from Seven Eleven. How about we have sandwiches for a late meal?”

“Sounds good”.

“Then, I'll go make them. Do you want mayonnaise?”

“Did you happen to get any Coleslaw?”

“As a matter of fact, I did”.

“Then I'll have Coleslaw”, said Kevin as he walked into the kitchen.

“Sit down. I poured your coffee”, said Whitney.

Kevin took a seat at the table, added cream and sugar to the beverage and then sat staring into space as he stirred the drink with his spoon.

“What are you thinking about?”, asked Whitney.

“I'm just going over some things someone told me”, he answered.

“I don't want to pry, but does it have anything to do with the Mission House?”

“In a way. Have you noticed anything different, say in the past few months?”

“Only that it seems we're getting more and more homeless men needing help”.

“Well, to me it appeared to be a successful Thanksgiving.

Now, I imagine the good Reverend has to prepare for Christmas”.

“Yes, and in addition to feeding Christmas dinner there is the need for toys for the children. At the same time the food pantry is always in need for supplies”.

“I'm not too familiar with Mission work. Is it true that in return for food and shelter the homeless are required to attend religious services?”

“It is suggested, but not required. Reverend Simon usually has a congregation on Sundays. I'd say maybe twenty or less attend. There are more in winter”.

“They may just want to get out of the cold”.

“That's possible”.

“It appears to me that Reverend Simon is a very busy man”.

“He is, particularly this time of the year. He does get to relax a bit in summer”.

“Relax how?”

“As I told you, he is great friends with Steven Barnett. Once in a while they fly off to some place. Sometimes to fly fish in Pennsylvania or to what they call a religious retreat”.

“Where are the religious retreats held?”

“I really don't know”.

“Is fishing his only outlet?”

“No, Steven got the Reverend interested in flying. Together they formed the Nautilus Beach Flyers.”

“Never heard of it”.

“The members meet on Saturdays, weather permitting and fly model airplanes”.

“Do you know where?”

“Yes, Willow park. It's the football field for the Pop Warner football team. Since it's not used by the team off season the Nautilus Beach Flyers use it. Steven donates to the team for letting the club use the field.”

“It seems that Steven Barnett is very civic minded”.

“ Yes, I have to agree with you”.

“What else do you know about the good Reverend?”

“Now, all of a sudden you're asking questions like a cop”.

“Am I? I've lived here most of my life. I must admit, like most of the people here I never concerned myself with the homeless and hunger problem. I just figured someone else was taking care of it. Now, I see it for what it is. When it comes to Reverend Simon, I've never heard of him until I met you. So, I'm curious. Where did he come from? Is he married? If so does he have children?”

“I see. As far as I know he is from Iowa. Someplace near Des Moines. He's single, calling himself a bachelor , married to his church”.

“Where does he live?”

“At the Mission. He does have private quarters however”.

“Have you ever been in those private quarters?”

“Just what are you implying?”

“Not a thing. I'm just wondering how much space he's using”.

“I'd say about the same space a three room apartment would take up. He has a living room, bedroom, kitchen and bath”.

“Then you have been inside his quarters”.

“No, one of the women that does his cleaning described the place to me”, said Whitney getting angry.

“Will you just calm down? No one is accusing you of doing anything.”

“I don't like the way you're acting. It's like, you think I'm hiding something”.

“Did it ever dawn on you that I'm asking these questions in an attempt to keep you safe?”

“Safe from what? Reverend Simon? He's harmless”.

“For your sake I hope you're right. Nevertheless, I'm going to do a background check on him.”

“You do what you want or have to do. I won't be a part of it now or in the future”.

“No one's asking you to”.

“Are we going to fight over this? If so, then I'm leaving”.

“Don't go. In fact, let me change the subject. You make a great, roast beef sandwich”.

“Thank you. How's the coffee. I'm not use to that brand”.

“What, Red Circle? It's been around for years. Found in the A&P Store”.

“I use Maxwell House”.

“What does the Mission house use?”

“What ever we can get for free or the cheapest”.

********************

On the Monday after Thanksgiving Sergeant McKenna

sat at his word processor typing a report bringing his investigation up to date. From time to time he would stop and take a swallow from the Styrofoam container of coffee that was on his desk. He turned his attention to John Collins who had walked into the office. “Are you just coming in?”, asked Kevin.

“No. I had a larceny complaint at the Gold Coast Motel. Same old shit. Woman claims she took off her diamond ring, went into the bathroom to shower and when she returned the ring was missing. The ring is valued at fifteen thousand and naturally, it's insured. She has filed a police report. Next, she'll contact the insurance company, collect on the policy then have the original diamond either cut or put in a new setting. Meanwhile we're supposed to do a complete investigation questioning all the house keeping workers”.

“Yep, but unless you can prove that the supposedly victim is a fraud, what else can you do?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing”, said Collins in disgust.

“When you're finished with your report I have something else for you to do”, said Kevin.

“Shoot”.

“Run a background check on a Reverend, Howard Simon. He's reported to be from Iowa, either in or near Des Monies”.

“No problem. Anything else?”

“Yeah, look into a club here in town known as the Nautilus Beach Flyers. I want to know how many members there are and who?”

“Got it. No problem”, Collins replied.

Before returning to typing his report Kevin wrote on his notepad, “Do background check on Frank Bitterman.. Also, check Flemington Hotel”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Six

Persons Of Interest

 

On Monday, December 16, 2013 Sergeant Kevin McKenna sat at his desk reading the many page report pertaining to one, Frank Bitterman, The written document began with a description of the man, stating that Frank Bitterman was born in Enlarger, Kentucky on May 17, 1974. That he is a Caucasian Male, five feet, nine inches tall weighing two hundred and ten lbs. Next, June 7, 1992. arrested, charge assault & battery. Verdict, guilty, sentenced 364 days in county jail, sentence suspended fine $500.00. February 9,1980 arrested, Covington, Kentucky, charge, Promoting Prostitution, Permitting Prostitution, Racketeering. Sentence to seven years in Kentucky State Prison. Released June 1983 for good behavior. At present, whereabouts unknown.

Kevin placed the report in a new manila folder and wrote the name, FRANK BITTERMAN in capital letters on the folder surface. Getting up from behind his desk he signed the assignment sheet, indicating that he was going to Mainland Township and the case number 7549768.

Traveling along the Black Horse Pike Mckenna rolled the driver side window down allowing the cold, crisp, December air to enter the unmarked radio car. Although it was cold with the air temperature at a steady forty degrees the sun was shining brightly in a powder blue sky. Cumulus clouds appeared to hang like spun cotton candy moving slowly across the atmosphere. He looked for formations of Canadian Geese hoping to see a late formation, but the heavens were empty. At low tide the emissions of biogenic, sulfur gases from the meadows were carried on the air and were so strong Kevin was forced to close the window.

Entering the Township by passing over a low bridge he turned on to the main street and followed it for four blocks. Ahead he saw the tall, five story building that was the Flemington Hotel.

The hotel had seen better days. It had been constructed in 1942 to cater to the military officers and civilian contractors who traveled to the area where the Garden State Boat Works serviced Navy Patrol Boats and Army Air Corp Crash Boats. The Army Air Corp had taken over the hotels of Atlantic City. England General Hospital was created for returning, convalescing wounded and the Convention Hall was turned into one large PX. Now, sixty year old paint was peeling from the stucco outer walls of the Flemington. Some windows on the first and second floor had visible cracks, a few sealed with Duct Tape, all needed washing, mostly on the inside.

Outside of the building men stood staring into space .One or two talked to each other. Some walked about aimlessly, having no where to go or anything to do. Most of them were smoking cigarettes. “Funny”,no matter how broke they are they still find money to buy cigarettes and booze”,Kevin thought to himself.

McKenna parked the car across the street from the hotel,

after leaving the automobile he walked to where two men sat on a bench near the front of the building. They watched him as he approached. “Hey mister, how about helping a fella out”. Said one of the men.

“Let me ask you something. Where are you from?”, asked McKenna.

“Why? What difference does it make? Are you a cop?”, asked the other man.

“Yeah, who are you and what do you want around here?”, came a voice from the hotel entrance.

Kevin looked towards the sound of the voice. He recognized

Frank Bitterman although he appeared a little different then his prison mug shot. Now, he was much heavier. He was nearly bald with only a growth of hair at the back and sides of his head. He combed what remaining strands he had over the bare scalp. From where Kevin stood he could see the black and brown rotting teeth visible behind a two or three day growth of whiskers. Bitterman held a soggy, unlit cigar in his right hand, soggy and wet with saliva created from the man chewing on it.

“I'm Sergeant Kevin McKenna from the Nautilus Beach Police Department. Are you Frank Bitterman?”, Kevin asked.

“I could be. Depends on what you want”, answered Bitterman.

“Is there some place where we can talk, instead of shouting back and forth out here?”

“Come on in, but make it quick. I'm a busy man”.

McKenna walked up the three steps that led to the main entrance. “So I've heard”, Kevin replied.

Once inside the Detective was met by the strong odor of old, tobacco smoke. A yellow coating of nicotine clung to the once white walls in the lobby. He glanced down and saw that he stood on a faded and worn red rug that needed vacuuming and repair.

In two areas the rugs backing showed appearing as thick woven burlap.

“Well, what do you want?”, asked Bitterman.

“I'm investigating a murder that happened in Nautilus Beach. The victim was a man named Harvey Mason. I was wondering if you knew him”.

“What makes you think that I would know him?”

“Well, our information is that he is originally from Philadelphia. We also have information that either you or your employees go to Philadelphia from time to time to pick up and transport people to this area. In exchange for shelter and meals they are obligated to sign over their Social Security payments to you”.

“Nothing illegal about that pal. It's done everyday in nursing homes, rest homes and old age homes everywhere”.

“That might be, still, did you ever meet Harvey Mason?”

“As far as I know I never heard of him”.

“I see. Have you ever heard of Charles Barnett?”

Bitterman quickly placed the wet end of his cigar in his mouth and chewed two or three times as he searched his mind for an answer. “Ain't he the owner of a hotel over on the beach?”

“Yes, the Regal”.

“I thought so. I know who he is. Never met him”.

“Interesting. Since you say that you're not doing anything illegal I'm sure that you keep accurate records pertaining to your business. For instance, the names of those who have signed their checks over to you are probably listed.. Do you mind if I take a look to see if Harvey Mason was here at one time or another?”

“Listen pal. Do I look like some hick that just wandered in from the farm? First of all, you got no jurisdiction here in Mainland. Township. Second unless you got a search warrant I don't have to show you anything. Next, you're starting to piss me off with your questions and attitude. As far as I'm concerned I'm done talking. Now, I suggest that you leave.”.

“You are right Mister Bitterman. Thank you for your time. You take care of yourself until we meet again.”

“I can't imagine you and me meeting again”.

“Ah, but I do”.

When McKenna got back inside his car he took a moment to take out his small notebook then made notes.” Check on criminal registration, Frank Bitterman, request criminal records from NCIC”.

Back at headquarters McKenna entered the Major Crime Squad office and after removing his suit coat took a seat at his desk. He was just about ready to type his report on the word processor when John Collins came in and took a seat next to him. “How did you make out with Bitterman?”, asked Collins.

“Not bad. I didn't expect him to be co-operative. Since our conversation was brief the only indication I got of him hiding anything was when I asked him if he knew Charles Barnett. That question seemed to jolt him, but he recovered quickly saying only that he had heard of him”.

“So, do you think he's dirty?”, asked Collins.

“Certainly, but so far not in relation to Mason's murder”.

“Then what?”

“Right now I'd say he's involved in a political conspiracy and so far has not committed any crimes. However, I intend to send off to the Nation Crime Information Center for more information on him. If push comes to shove I can put his ass in jail for failing to register as a sex criminal.”

“Based on what?”

“Based on the fact that he was a pimp in Kentucky”.

“Well, if you're finished talking about Bitterman I've got something to report”, said Collins.

“Good, let's hear it”.

“It seems that the good Reverend Howard Simon is a bullshitting, flimflam operator.”

“Really?”

“Yep,” said Collins as he opened the manila folder containing information he had gathered. “That's see. I'll start at the beginning. Howard Simon, date of birth, September 9, 1964.

Place of birth, Clive Iowa. Attended local schools until sophomore year in high school. Worked menial jobs until 1980.

In that year sent away for correspondent course for Bible study and the Christian religion. He then appeared two years later in Des Moines, Iowa as the young, Reverend Howard Simon, pastor of the Sanctuary Of The Needy located on Hickman Road. By 1984-85 he had a congregation of one hundred and fifty worshipers and a treasury worth ten thousand dollars, or so they thought. It seems that someone called for an audit and when all was said and done seven thousand dollars could not be accounted for. Seems the good reverend had a gambling problem, horses and football”.

“Interesting so far”, said McKenna.

“Wait, there's more”.

“Go ahead”.

“During the audit they also were able to determine that some of the food donated to the Sanctuary was sold to two locale butchers. This came about when one of the women in the congregation with whom he was having an adulterous affair blew the whistle on him when he dumped her”.

“And he, a member of the cloth”, said McKenna sarcastically.

“Anyway, Simon left town. He next shows up with an old school bus that he had painted white and toured the bible belt. Somewhere in Texas, I'm still waiting to hear from a guy I know in Orange, Texas, somewhere in Texas he opened another sanctuary or mission. This time for itinerant workers, mostly Mexicans. Supposedly he sold cheap booze to the field hands. He got caught when the wives of the workers went to the county Sheriff with their complaints. Seems he loaded the bus, took three hundred and eight dollars out of the mission account and disappeared during the night. Between his time in Texas and his arrival here in Nautilus Beach I've got nothing. Seems he has learned how to cover his tracks”.

“Is that it?”, asked Kevin.

“Yep”.

“Nice work John. So right now we have a few people of interest, Charles Barnett who dislikes the homeless and is anti- casino, Frank Bitterman who exploits the homeless and is reported to be in Charles Barnett's pocket and the good Reverend Howard Simon who is pro-homeless and friends with Steven Barnett also pro-casino. Unfortunately, right now, none of them can be considered suspects in Harvey Mason's murder”.

“Well, hopefully something will pop up”, said Collins.

“What about the Nautilus Beach Flyers”, asked Kevin.

“Oh yeah. The club has ten members. Steven Barnett is president. They haven't been flying their model planes due to the weather. It seems it's too cold. Did you know that some of those model planes cost between one hundred to nine hundred dollars?

That's what I found when I looked up the cost of some on the internet”.

“Yeah, but the same can be said for anyone or anything involved in a hobby. Cost becomes incidental”.

“Do you have any hobbies Sarge?”

“I don't know, reading, classical music. I got into those things when I moved into my godfather's place. He has a great collection of both”.

“You're talking about Captain Wallace, aren't you?”

“Yes”.

“Hell. He's a legend Around here. Where is he?”

“Australia, either in Rockingham or Safety Bay”.

“They say he's in bad health”.

“Yeah, diabetes”.

“Shame”.

“If he heard you say that he'd kick you in the ass”.

******************

 

At seven o'clock that evening he dialed Whitney's telephone number. He made it a point in his mind not to mention what he now knew about the so called, Reverend Simon. At this point she would not believe whatever he said about the man.

“Hello?”, she said when she answered the ring.

“Hi, just checking to see how you are”.

“Why?”

“Well for one thing I miss you and second there's a lot of the flu going around”.

“So I've heard. So far I'm O.K., although I have a lot of kids with runny noses in the classroom.

“Other than that how have you been?”

“Busy. Christmas is coming and I've got to grade test papers. That's what I was doing when you called”.

“Speaking of Christmas and the holidays, I know where you'll be on Christmas Day, but I will be working. Those of us who are single allow the married to spend the day with their families. I'm hoping New Years Eve is open. How would you like dinner, dancing and welcoming in the New Year with me?”

“I really don't know. I'm not much for that kind of celebrating. How soon do you have to know?”

“Soon. I want to make reservations at the Glass Menagerie. The tables go quick for that evening”.

“I've heard of that dinner club, but I've never been to it”.

“It's a place that has a lot of tradition with my family. My Dad and godfather use to celebrate the conclusion of police cases they solved, by having a nice dinner with members of the Major Crime Squad, their friends and wives”.

“Other than that, what's so special about it?”

“Good people, good food and drink and great music”.

“So you dance”.

“Well, I'm no Arthur Murray, but I can get out of people's way on the dance floor”.

“Can I think about it?”

“Yeah, sure, no problem”.

Detecting the disappointment in his voice Whitney said, Kevin, I'd love to be with you on New Years Eve, but if we don't go to the restaurant we could still celebrate at your place. We could watch the fireworks being shot out over the ocean”.

“Why don't we do both? We'll have an early dinner at the club then go to my place and watch from the balcony window”.

“That's a possibility. Still, I'd like to think about it”.

“O.K. Let me know. You take care”.

“Are you upset?”

“Me?, No, talk to you later”.

“Look, if it means that much to you we'll go to the Glass Menagerie”.

“Like I said, I'll talk to you later”.

Whitney heard the click and then the dial tone before she placed the receiver on the cradle. In the back bedroom the baby was crying and she still had to finish grading the test papers.

Kevin walked up to the bookshelves and looked at Robert Wallace's collection. He had seen most of them neatly aligned alphabetically, even read a few. “As a matter of fact, there is one I've been meaning to read and haven't got around to it until now”,

he thought to himself. He reached up and removed, “Collected Cases Of Injustice Rectified,” by Song Ci. He carried the book to the dark, brown, leather recliner, took a seat, opened the book and began to read. About the same time someone in the hallway opened a door and the sound of Christmas carols filtered into his room and broke his train of thought. Then, the music was gone and he returned to the pages.

At midnight, January 1, 2014 fireworks exploded in the night sky over the ocean and beachfront of Nautilus Beach. Kevin stood in front of the glass paneled door that led out on to his balcony. Down below on the boardwalk people stood, bundled up because of the cold and watched the colorful spectacles created in the sky.

Alone Kevin toasted the New Year with a half a bottle of beer.

In her home Whitney stood listening to the exploding pyrotechnics which sounded like thunder an cannon shots that woke the baby and made it cry.

In the dark and on a damp boardwalk ramp, Charles Barnett lay face down, dead from a crushed skull.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Seven

Brotherly Love

 

The body had been found at approximately one ten A.M.

by party goers leaving the Marine Ballroom of the Regal Hotel.

Just as in the case of the death of Harvey Mason the killer or killers acted in the semi darkness and on or near the boardwalk. This again made it impossible for a true, crime scene investigation forcing the police to wait for enough daylight in order to do their assignments. Mckenna had someone at headquarters check with the weather bureau in order to know at approximately what time the sun would rise. He was told that it would be at seven eighteen A.M. He glanced at his wristwatch and saw that it was two forty five in the early morning. “Hey Sarge. Happy New Year”, said John Collins.

“Thank you. And, it's a hell of a way to start it”, McKenna replied.

“I'll tell you one thing. It's one cold ass morning. I should have put on thermal underwear before I reported for duty”, said Collins.

“I've been colder. I stood guard on a crime scene one January night years ago. It was a house that burned almost to the ground. Arson was suspected so we safe guarded the place for three days and nights. Eight hours of standing in the cold, no food, no coffee and no where to piss. What we have here right now is nothing compared to that”, said Kevin.

“Speaking of coffee, how about I go get us some?”, asked Collins.

“Good idea. Get some doughnuts too. We're going to be here for awhile”, said McKenna handing the detective the keys to the car.

With the body and the crime scene protected by uniform personnel McKenna turned and walked from the ramp to the center of the boardwalk. He looked towards the north, turned and looked to the south then made his way to the nearest street light. Once there he removed his notebook and pen from the pocket of his jacket and wrote, victim's body face down near ramp. Ramp is two city blocks south of the Regal hotel.

Mckenna turned at the sound of a man's voice shouting, “Let me see him! Let me see him! I'm his brother !” Kevin walked quickly where two uniformed police officer tried to restrain the man from advancing to where the body lay.

“Just calm down. Calm down. I assume that you are Steven Barnett”.

“That's right. I was told that my brother was injured and was laying on the boardwalk. Let me see him. I want to see him”, said Barnett.

“I'm afraid that I can't allow that Mr. Barnett. Right now this is a protected crime scene. No one is allowed to go near it until our forensic technicians are finished doing their investigation”.

“Do you know who I am?”, asked Barnett.

“Yes sir, and again let me advise you that you don't want to see your brother in the condition he's in at the moment. It's probably better if you remember him the way he was”.

“I have to do something. I can't just stand here”.

“If you want to do something why don't you go back to the hotel and call your sister-in-law and tell her about her husband. I'm sure you notifying her is much better than the police standing in her doorway informing her that her husband is dead”.

“I guess you're right. Thank you, I'll do that”.

Kevin stood and watched Steven Barnett walk away. He turned and saw John Collins walking towards him with a white paper bag in his hand. “I got the coffee. They hadn't made the doughnuts yet. Best I could do was danish wrapped in cellophane”, said Collins.

“Well, that's better than a kick in the ass. Food is food. I'll pretend it's a flat doughnut”, McKenna replied as he pried the lid off of the Styrofoam cup containing the coffee”.

“Anything happen while I was away?”, asked the detective.

“Steven Barnett showed up. He wanted to see his brother's body”.

“How was he after he saw it?”

“He didn't see it. I wouldn't let him in or near the crime scene”.

“Damn it's cold!”, said Collins.

“That's because you just got out of the radio car where you had the heater on. As for me, my toes are aching and my nose is running. Other than that it's like a spring day”, said Mckenna being sarcastic.

At eight A.M. the sun was high enough in the morning sky making it possible for the forensic technicians and investigators do their job. “Do you see what I see?”, asked Collins.

“Yeah, shards of clear plexiglass”.

“Just like the Mason case”.

“Yep, only this time the victim isn't homeless”.

“Well, from the position of the body it appears as though he was struck in the back of the head, just as he turned to walk down the ramp. There's no doorway or alleyway where an assailant could hide and then attack when Barnett walked past”, said Collins as flashbulbs continued to go off as photographs were taken.

“ You're exactly right”, McKenna replied.

Detective Edward Hanson walked up to where the two men stood, “Sarge, I went through the guys pockets. He had what appears to be automobile and house keys. In his wallet was his identification card, drivers license and four hundred and eighty seven dollars in cash. The keys, wallet, cash, along with his Rolex wristwatch are in this envelope. Do you want to check it here or at headquarters?”he asked.

Headquarters is fine. Take it there, list the items in your report and mark it as evidence”.

“Evidence? What do these things have to do with evidence?”

“For one thing is indicates that robbery wasn't a motive. Think man, think”, said Mckenna.

“Yes sir”.

“Wait a minute. I'm sorry, it's the hour, the cold and my brain is going at a hundred miles an hour. I apologize.”

“No problem Sarge. I'll see you at headquarters”.

“What do you want me to do Sarge?', asked Collins.

“Stay with the body all the way to the morgue, then wait for the coroner”, said Mckenna as he turned and walked towards the Regal Hotel. As he walked he ducked his head into the cold, winter wind as it blew in from the ocean sending another chill through his body. He was cold, tired from being wakened from a sound sleep and hungry. As he walked, he thought of all the sane people who were asleep in their warm beds in the comfort of their homes, then wondered why in hell he had become a cop.

Finally, he came to the boardwalk entrance to the hotel and he pushed on the door only to find it locked. “Son of a bitch!”, he said aloud then made his way down the ramp to the street entrance.

When he entered the hotel lobby he saw the same desk clerk that he had seen there before. “Don't bother. I know where it is”, he said, as he walked towards the elevator.

When he got off of the elevator on the second floor he walked quickly to the Security Office. Reaching the door he knocked once, turned the door knob and entered. When he did he saw Sheila McCormick sitting behind Holtz's desk. “Where the boss?”, asked Kevin.

“Bosses get holidays off. Happy New Year”, Sheila responded.

“Are you just coming on duty or did you work last night?”

“I worked last night and right now trying to get some overtime. The pay here stinks”.

“Good, if you worked last night did you see Charles and Steven Barnett here?”

“Of course, New Years Eve is one of the busiest nights of the year. Both were here in the hotel although they spent most of their time in the Marine Ballroom”.

“Do you know what time Charles left the hotel?”

“Not exactly. I do know the fireworks were going off. I was making my rounds and I passed by the doors to the sundeck. I looked out and saw Steven and someone who could have been Charles, but I'm not sure it was him”.

“You're not sure?”

“No, like I said, the fireworks were going off. One lit the sky and I saw Steven, then the light dimmed and I can't be sure the other man was Charles”.

“O.K. next question. Who informed Steven about his brother?”

“I have no idea. I came in from patrolling the perimeter and the lobby staff was all excited. That's when I found out that Charles had been murdered”.

“Murdered? Who told you the man had been murdered?”

“I don't remember exactly who it was, but I know the word murdered was used.”

“ I assume that the security cameras were working”.

“Yes. Do you want to see the tapes?”

“Let me ask you something. Do you have enough pull around here to have room service send a pot of coffee to you?”

“I think so. Cream and sugar?”

“Yes”.

“Anything to eat?”

“No, just the coffee”.

Sheila picked up the telephone and dialed the number for the kitchen. When she was connected she ordered a pot of coffee, cream and sugar and two cups and saucers. After she hung up she said, “It's on the way”.

“Good. While we're waiting lets look at the tapes”.

“Which one do you want to see first?”

“The Marine Room. Say between eleven P.M. December 31, and midnight”, suggested Kevin.

Sheila rewound the tape to eleven p.m. and pushed the play button. Two cameras produced their recordings on a split screen one scanning the crowd seated at tables. The other showing people entering the room. Kevin paid particular attention to the tapes, then said. “Stop. Hold it right there”. In front of him was a recorded image of Frank Bitterman sitting at a table with a woman and two other couples. McKenna took out his notebook and wrote, Regal hotel security tape recordings New Years Eve showing Frank Bitterman at 11:47 P.M.

women are known prostitutes recording at # 2000340065.

“I'm going to have to take that tape Sheila. I can do it three ways. I take it now as evidence giving you a receipt, or I get a warrant and take it, or you give it up as an attempt to help solve one of your bosses murder”.

 

“Take what you want. I'm sure Holtz will understand.

“O.K. Now. Let me see the hallway camera near the sundeck”.

“Sheila again rewound the tape on hallway two, sundeck area. Once more she pushed the play button. Kevin sat back and watched several minutes of tape that constantly showed the empty corridor, then there was a shadow and a man appeared. It was Howard Simon. In the tape Simon stood still, then looked left and right as if searching for something or someone. After a few minutes Steven Barnett appears. Barnett takes out a set of keys unlocks the doors leading to the sundeck and the two men leave the hallway. Simon is carrying a small package. Once again Kevin writes in his notebook, video tape showing Howard Simon and Steven Barnett in second floor hallway entering hotel sundeck at 11:55 p.m. December 31, 20c 13. tape position 339533107.

“Interesting. Push the forward button again”, said Kevin.

When the tape began to play once again the hallway was shown to be empty of people. Then flashes of light materialize. Sheila McCormick appears. She stops and looks out on to the sundeck. Then she continues her patrol.

“I guess you know that I want this time also”, said Kevin.

“Yes, but this time I don't know what to tell Mr. Holtz,” Shelia responded.

“Hey there's no sense trying to hide facts.

“I guess you're right”.

“Also, tell him that when I talk to Steven, I'll tell him about me having the tapes”.

“Thank you, I guess that will get me off of the hook”.

Kevin looked at the woman, seeing a small, but not frail female. She was a blue eye blond who suddenly became familiar to him. “I get the feeling that I've seen you some place besides this hotel”, he mentioned.

“You probably don't remember seeing me at Sunday mass, but I was seated on the aisle across from you”.

“Yes, of course, I didn't recognize you out of uniform. Why didn't you say something then?”, he asked.

“I wear my hair different when I go to chrch and I didn't want to seem to be too forward”.

“Do you always attend eight o'clock mass?”

“Yes, unless something comes up”.

“Then, I'll look for you this Sunday”.

“I'll be there”.

“Shelia thanks for your help. I appreciate it”.

“Your welcome Kevin. Take care and be careful”.

When he arrived back at headquarters Kevin reported directly to Captain Myers. She looked up with interest when he entered her office. “What have you got, except another corpse?” she asked.

“Possibly two or three suspects”, McKenna answered.

“Really, suppose you start at the beginning and let me be the judge”, said Carol Myers.

“Well, to me the beginning starts with Charlies Barnett. Charlies Barnett is, make that was, well known to be anti-casino in this town. His reason was that it first of all destroyed local business by housing the same type of business inside the casino complex. His other reason was that it attracted and brought in the unskilled labor who eventually become the homeless and a drain on the city economy. However, our investigation reveals that in an attempt to kill the new casino bill in the legislature in Trenton, Charlie Barnett hired a guy who then deliberately goes to Philadelphia and brings more homeless into the Nautilus Beach area. Charlie Barnett hopes that is this way the people and the business owners of the town will see the blight that is beginning and fight against the new casino bill.”

“Alright, we already know this, but go on”, said the Captain.

“At the same time we have Steven Barnett, Charlies brother who is pro-casino. Steven at present has a slim majority of businessmen behind his push for casino's in Nautilus Beach.

When it comes to the homeless Steven has no problems. Why?

Because of two reasons. The first, is that the homeless are and will not be his problem. The homeless will be a problem for the people of the city, not him directly. The second reason is that he contributes to the Mission House located in the Garwood section of town. His contributions do two things. It keeps the homeless more or less under control which pleases the businessmen that are backing Steven and two it keeps the Reverend Howard Simon and the Mission House open and running. It also keeps the good Reverend Simon happy since it is very possible that

Steven and the Reverend are more than just friends”.

“Do you know that for sure?”, asked Captain Myers.

“No and it really doesn't matter. If same sex marriage is legal in this State then I assume liaisons are legal too. I just mention the fact because it came up in the investigation.

“Then, why mention it at all?”, asked Myers.

“Because of a possible conspiracy”.

“Involving who?”

“Steven Barnett and Reverend Simon”.

“And just how do you think you'll be able to prove a conspiracy?”

“Because I intend to pressure another suspect, Frank Bitterman”.

“Why Bitterman?”

“This I must admit will be a shot in the dark. Nonetheless, it is possible that friction might have developed between Bitterman and Charlie Barnett. It could be over money, maybe a shake down. I don't know. I do know that Bitterman is an ex con arrested for pimping. I'm thinking of arresting him for failing to register as a sex criminal. If I don't, then I'm hoping he can shed some light and give me a motive for Charlies murder”.

“I have a couple of questions”, said Captain Myers.

“Shoot”.

“What about Harvey Mason? What is the murder weapon?”

“Captain, right now I don't know. I honestly don't know, but sure as hell is on fire I intend to find out”, said McKenna.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Eight

Speak of The Devil

 

Two weeks into the month of January Sergeant McKenna

had not made any headway into the investigation of the identical murders of Harvey Mason and Charles Barnett. Still, he knew that he had to be patient, not rush or jump to conclusions. In order to keep his focus on the job at hand he checked and re-examined what physical evidence he had. He viewed the video tapes over and over hoping to see and find something new. Nothing fresh came to him, so he waited and waited.

At home after dinner which was usually a micro-wave heated frozen meal he would clean up the kitchen then walk to the living room pick up the bookmarked “Collected Cases Of Injustice Rectified” and begin reading where he had stopped the evening before.

Song Ci's writings dealt mostly with forensic science and the collecting of the same, but one thing stood out, the necessity of examination of the body either in assault cases or deaths. Kevin

closed his eyes and mentally re-examined his actions in both homicide cases that he was investigating. “ With Harvey Mason, let's see. I remember looking closely at the mans crushed skull. I recall wondering just what in the hell was the weapon used?

Let's look back.. I went to the morgue, met with the pathologist and confirmed that in addition to the plexiglass shards found next to the body a piece of the same material was found in the wound of the victim. O.K. what did I do when it came to Charles Barnett?

Shit! Nothing! Nothing and no where near what I did in the Mason investigation. McKenna, you got lazy. You allowed someone else to do what you should have done. You rushed. You went to the hotel with the belief that all of the answers to your questions could be found there. True, you found some things, but at the same time you developed more questions, questions that now need to be answered.”

Kevin closed the book and placed it on the table next to the chair. Disgusted with himself he got up out of the chair and going room to room shut off the lights and went to bed.

On a bright sunny, but frigid Sunday morning Kevin attended the eight o'clock mass at Saint Mary's. When he saw

Sheila McCormick seated in the same pew, instead of taking a seat in a pew across from her he stood for a moment looking down at her. She looked up at him, smiled and slid across the bench allowing him to sit next to her. They both then knelt, blessed themselves and out of the corner of his eye he watched her for a moment as she prayed and moved the rosary beads with her fingers. He also noticed that with her blond hair now loose and flowing instead of pulled back and tied as when she was in uniform she appeared much different. He lifted his head turned it and gazed upon her, seeing her now as a young woman and not a guard, a hotel employee or a confidant. He also noticed that she was as Irish as they come.

They both sat back and listened to the sermon given by Father Hogan. He followed her to the alter where they both then took communion. Her taking the host and sipping the wine from the chalice. He taking the host and after dipping it in the wine placed it in his mouth.

Out side, on the sidewalk Sheila looked at him. “Well, it was nice seeing you again”, she said shivering in the cold morning air.

“Listen, would you like to have breakfast, or at least a cup of coffee. We can get out of the cold, get warm and talk”, Kevin asked.

“That would be nice”.

“Fine, the Tom Thumb is just up the block. I don't know if you've ever been in there, but it's clean and the food is excellent.”

Ten minutes later the couple slid into a booth at the back of the restaurant. Shelia shrugged off her jacket while seated. Kevin stood, removed his coat and sat down again. He looked at her and smiled. “I bet you're tired or at least sleepy”, he said.

“Not really. I've been working this shift at the hotel for two years now”.

“I thought your shift worked midnight to eight A.M.”

“No, eleven to seven”

“I see. I remember when I was in uniform patrol. We worked twelve to eight. I was like a zombie. I'd get home have breakfast sleep until four get up have dinner, go back to bed get up at eleven and go to work. It seemed that I was always tired.

“Well, when you think about it man is supposed to sleep at night. Anything else is abnormal”.

“I guess so. Here comes the waitress. Make sure you order a good breakfast”.

They both ordered bacon and eggs, hers scrambled, his over light, toast and fried potatoes. When the waitress left the table they both sat in silence and looked at each other. “What are you thinking about?”, she asked.

“To tell you the truth I'm trying to figure out just how you can leave work, go home, change from your uniform. Get dressed again and still be on time for mass”.

“Sheila laughed. I didn't go home to change. We have lockers at the hotel. I change there. I don't like being on the street with the word Security Guard on my shoulder”.

“Why not?”

“Well think about it. It's honest work, but not too glamorous. Years ago the people who held those jobs were called, watchmen. They didn't need to have too much talent then and it's the same now.”

“Are you ashamed of your position?”

“Heavens no. I just prefer leaving my work behind me when I go home, that's all. Now, my turn. Why did you become a cop?”

“That's easy. In my family two things are mandatory. The first is that you will be born an Irish Catholic and the second thing is you will be a police officer.”

“Then I take it that you like it”.

“Yes, although I must admit there are times when I want out”.

“Why?”

“For one thing, man's inhumanity to man. Pardon my language but this world is made up of a multitude of assholes”.

“I'll tell you something Kevin, I agree with you. Here comes our breakfast.”

“Good after we eat I'll take you home”.

“That's not necessary”.

“Let me guess. You don't want to be seen with a cop”.

“Don't be silly. I'm not going right home. I have to stop in and check on my mother. She's been ill lately”.

“Nothing serious I hope”.

“No. It appears to be either bad cold or the flu”.

“I'm sorry to hear that. Be careful that you don't come down with it”.

“Why?”

“Because I want to see you again and don't want to wait until you get better”.

“You're serious. You want to see me again”.

“Yep”

“Fine but our schedules don't mash. You work days. I work nights. You're off on weekends. I'm off Thursday and Friday nights. When will we see each other?”

Kevin shrugged his shoulders, then said, “Well. There's always Sunday Mass”.

********************

By Tuesday of that week Mckenna was irritable. No report had come back from the F.B.I. lab in reference to the plexiglass shards. That still left him without any clue as to just what was used to commit the murders. At the same time he had no idea of a motive. There wasn't even a connection between the two victims. One was homeless, depending on handouts in order to survive. The other was an affluent hotel owner. The only thing they had in common was the fact that they were both killed on the boardwalk, both died with a crushed skull and both crime scenes had plexiglass shards. One north of the Regal Hotel the other south of the hotel. At the same time Kevin continued to berate himself for not paying more attention to Charles Barnett's condition at the crime scene.

“O.K. McKenna. Get off of your ass and get to work. You've got no weapon yet, but you can work on finding a motive. Time to bring in Bitterman”,he thought to himself.

Two hours later McKenna parked the unmarked radio car across form the Flemington Hotel. As he did he saw County Investigator Roy Hamilton exit his car. After walking across the street the two men shook hands. “Hello Roy. How have you been?”, asked Kevin.

“Fine. So what do we have here?”

“Right now an ex-con who's running an operation that involves taking Social Security and pension checks from the homeless. He picks them up off of the streets of Philadelphia and Camden and brings them down here to this flea bag hotel he runs”.

“As bad as it sounds his operation might not be illegal”, said Hamilton.

“I know. Actually I want to talk to him about the Charles Barnett homicide. At the same time I know he's failed to register as a sex offender”.

“I assume that you've checked that fact”.

“Yep, that's why I asked you to meet me here. You have jurisdiction. I don't”.

“No problem. I'm ready when you are”.

“Then let's go.”

Together the two men walked between a small row of men two of which asked for money. When Kevin and Roy Hamilton

passed through the front door and into the foyer of the hotel they were met with the mixed stench of urine and unwashed bodies.

One of Bitterman's employees leaned on his elbows behind the dilapidated front desk. When he saw the two men he stood up straight and said, “What do you two want?”

“Frank Bitterman”, said Hamilton showing his badge and credentials.

“Wait a minute. I'll go get him”, said the man.

Five minutes later Bitterman came out of a back room. He was attired in a pair of black trousers held up by tan suspenders. He was shirtless wearing only a sleeveless underwear shirt that contained saliva and tobacco stains from the cigar he chewed on in his mouth. “You again. What do you want now?”, Bitterman said looking at McKenna.

“I want you to put a shirt on, grab a coat or jacket and come with us”, said Hamilton”.

“What for? I ain't done nothin. If you say I did, then it's a trumped up charge”.

“You are Frank Bitterman aren't you?”, asked Hamilton.

“Yeah so what?”

“Did you or did you not serve time in the Kentucky State Prison?” asked Roy”.

“This is what this is all about? My record? You guys love picking on ex-cons don't you?”

“Did you ever register in Mainland Township as a sex offender?”, asked McKenna.

“Maybe, I don't remember. I might have. If not, I haven't got around to it yet. I'm a business man. Got a lot of things on my mind”.

“O.K. you've stalled long enough. Get your shirt and coat or you can go the way you are”, said Kevin.

“And, if I don't?”

“Then after they treat you at the hospital you will be charged with obstruction of justice, and probably resisting arrest”, said Hamilton.

“Hospital? Did you hear that Jimmy. They're threatening me with bodily harm. You call my lawyer. Tell them what they just said. O.K. hotshots, I don't need no shirt or coat. Let's go and I'm tellin you both that I intend to sue your ass when this is over”

Arriving at headquarters in Nautilus Beach Bitterman was taken immediately to an interrogation room. Once there and seated he was given his rights under the Miranda law, offered a cup of coffee which he refused and was then questioned.

“Mr. Bitterman I'm not going to beat around the bush. You know how the game is played. You give me what I want and I might, might, give you not only what you want, but what you need. What I'm saying is let's not bullshit one another. Do you understand?”, asked McKenna.

“Yeah”, Bitterman answered.

“Alright, here's what we know. You're operating a flea bag hotel housing derelicts, mostly from Philadelphia. We also know how you're getting paid to do it. What we want to know is your connection with the late Charles Barnett”.

“We were business partners”.

“How?”

“The Barnett's own the old Flemington Hotel. In return for me bringing in the homeless from Philly I got the building rent free and all of the money I could get out of social security and pension checks.”

“What was the reason for you to bring in the homeless to this area?”, asked Kevin.

“You know damn well what the reason was. Charlie wanted the new casino bill defeated in Trenton”.

“That's right, but what about Steven Barnett?”, asked McKenna.

“Actually, he was a pain in the ass in the operation. He and Charlie argued all the time. Steven wanted to turn the Regal into the first casino in Nautilus Beach. Charlie was against it”.

“Everyone knows that Frank. Give me something that I don't know”.

“Did you know that Steven wanted to shut me down? He wanted to close the Flemington, gut it, renovate it and when it was finished, give it to his good friend, the Reverend as a present. It was to become the new Mission House, complete with rooms, baths, a professional kitchen and elevators. To them it would be the Taj Mahal for the homeless. Steven would become famous as a great humanitarian and his friend a famous clergyman”.

“Interesting, but that doesn't tell me why anyone would want to kill Charlie Barnett”, said Kevin.

“What do you need, a road map? Charlie owned fifty one per cent of the Barnett hotel business. That makes him chairman of the board of directors. The rest of the board members were hand picked by Charlie. That meant that anything and everything that Steven proposed, could be and was stopped by Charlie unless he was for the idea. So, if you ask me if anyone wanted Charlie Barnett dead it's his brother, Steven”.

“For what, being opposed to Steven's ideas?”, asked Hamilton

“Exactly, I don't have to tell you what a gambling casino makes in a year. Imagine what the take from the only game in town would be. Charlie was in the way and wouldn't budge. Now, that's all I've got to say. My lawyer should be arriving any minute now so if you're going to pin that bullshit charge of not registering on me do it now so I can make bail and get out of here”.

“I'm not going to charge you. Actually you don't reside in my town. Nonetheless, Mr. Hamilton has jurisdiction over you. I don't know what he has in mind”, Kevin replied.

“Let me explain the law to you Frank. Sex offenders who have been convicted since October 31, 1994 or who were serving a sentence on the effective date of the law are required to register. Sex offenders who have been found to be repetitive and compulsive by experts and the courts, regardless of the date of the conviction are required to register. Do you understand?”, asked Roy Hamilton.

“I admit that I was convicted. The charge was promoting and permitting prostitution. I served my time and I have not been what you call repetitive”.

“Frank, Frank, Frank, News Years Eve you were partying at the Regal. I've got you, your goons and three hookers known to us seated at your table on video tape. In addition, you paid Minerva Hollingsworth, also know as “Minnie the Moocher” one hundred and twenty five dollars plus dinner and drinks that night in return for sexual favors. She's already given us a statement. To us, that's promoting prostitution. Like I said, what happens to you now is up to Mr. Hamilton”.

“Cheer up Frank. I'm sure you and I can come to an understanding, such as you testifying for the State of New Jersey if we need you. Right?”, asked Hamilton.

****************

On Wednesday night at eight P.M. Kevin dialed Whitney's telephone number. “Hello?”, she said when she answered.

“Hello. Remember me? How are you?”, he asked.

“Busy. They're putting in a new curriculum and I'm making up lesson plans. How are you?”

“I've been busy too”.

“Did you call for a specific reason or just to talk?”

“I guess you could say it's a specific reason. I'm wondering if you'd like to take in dinner and a movie tomorrow night?”

“I'm sorry, but I must get these lesson plans finished. Some other time perhaps”.

“I understand. You take care. Goodby”.

For the rest of the evening Kevin continued reading “The Collected Cases of Injustice Rectified.” At eleven fifteen he got up went to the telephone on his desk and dialed the number for the Security Office of the Regal Hotel”.

Answering the ringing telephone Sheila McCormick answered, “Hotel Security. May I help you?”

“Yes. If you are still off tomorrow night you can have dinner with me followed by a movie”, said Kevin.

“You're serious?”

“Definitely”.

“Then my answer is yes. What should I wear? Where are we going? What time will you come for me?”

“Kevin laughed. Slow down. I have a nice little cozy place in mind so you can dress casual. The movie starts at eight and I'm afraid that you'll have to give me your address. Once you do that I'll be there about six thirty. How's that?”

“That's fine. Good by”

“Wait! Waite! Give me your address”.

“ Oh. I'm sorry, nine north Congress Avenue”

“O.K. and make sure you get some sleep I don't want you falling asleep on me at the table”., he said as he hung up the telephone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Nine

Talons

 

To Kevin McKenna the dull gray, winter months of 2014 seemed to drag on without any results. At the same time he still waited for the results on the plexiglass shards sent to the F.B.I. lab in Quantico Virginia. To him it appeared as though they were dragging their feet. Now, months later and in April he sat in the office of Captain Carol Myers who wanted an update on the two homicides he was investigating. He sat silently and uncomfortable as she read his latest reports. Finally, she looked up from the papers and said, “Now that I've read your reports what else have you got to tell me? Before you go into excuses I already know that you are still waiting to hear from Quantico. So? What else do you have to say?”

“When you mention Quantico, that deals with hopefully identifying the murder weapon. I've made several telephone calls to the Bureau there and all I've been told is that the plexiglass I've submitted was manufactured in the United States. It seems that they are still exploring. As I mention in my reports we with the co-operation of the county have Frank Bitterman along with some persuasion willing to testify as a witness for the state in the dealings between Charles Barnett and himself”.

“Why is that so important?”, asked the Captain.

“First of all because I believe the motive for killing Charles was his constant attempts to have the casino bill fail to be passed in Trenton”.

“You established that fact months ago”, said Myers.

“True, but months ago I didn't have a suspect”.

“And, now you do?”

“Yes Mam. As a matter of fact I have two in mind”.

“Who?”

“Steven Barnett and Howard Simon”.

“Why? You've told me this before. I hope you have a reason”.

“Again two reasons. First, the casino bill. With Charles dead and out of the way Steven could and would own and operate the only casino in Nautilus Beach”.

“Old news Sergeant”.

“On the early morning of his brothers death Steven arrived at the crime scene demanding to see his brothers body”.

“Nothing wrong or out of place there”, Myers replied.

“Yes there was. Charles Barnett's body was discovered by a New Years Eve patron who notified the police using a cell phone.

The police responded and protected the scene. Next, I was called in as was members of my unit. So, since only the witness that found the body and the police protecting the body were the only people at that time that knew that a. There was a death and b.

there was a murder, how did Steven know where his brother was and how did he know that his brother was dead?”

“You say in your report that Steven asked to see his brother because someone had told him that his brother had been injured”.

“Yes Mam. And, I also suggested that he go back to the hotel and call his sister-in-law and inform her that her husband was dead. When I said that to him Steven didn't bat and eye. He never asked why, or how, or when his brother died. Why didn't he? Simple he already knew Charles was dead because he or someone else killed Charles Barnett”.

“Someone else? Is that what you base your conspiracy idea on?”

“Yep. And, that goes back to the Flemington Hotel in Mainland Township”.

Captain Myers closed the manila envelope that contain McKenna's reports. “Alright. I think you've got something there. Stay with it and let me know if you need anything”.

“Thank you Mam”.

“You're welcome.”

On Sunday, April 19, 2014 Kevin met Sheila at Saint Mary's

for mass. Now, as in the past few weeks they had breakfast after services at the Tom Thumb Restaurant. People, both at the church and the restaurant were now use to seeing the couple together and would greet them. Even the waitress that served them every Sunday morning would say, “The usual?” and write down bacon and eggs, scrambled and over easy”. Kevin and Shelia would then talk over breakfast and when finished he would drive her home. He had even met Shelia's mother who was happy knowing that her daughter was seeing a nice Irish, Catholic boy.

After taking Shelia home Kevin drove to the condo, parked the car and took the elevator to the sixth floor, As he was unlocking the door he heard the telephone ringing and quickly went to the desk in the living room. “Hello?” he said.

“ I was just about ready to hang up. Where were you?”, asked Whitney.

“Church and then I went to breakfast”.

“I see. It's going to be a nice day. I was wondering if you would like to do something, maybe go some place?”

“Won't you be tied up at the Mission House”?

“Not until late afternoon”.

Kevin glanced at his wristwatch, noticed the time and said, “Well it is a nice day, but to tell you the truth, it's Sunday. That means not too many places are open and it's still too cold for a walk on the boardwalk”.

“It sounds to me that you're making excuses. It also sounds as though you don't want to be with me”.

“ And it appears to me that your idea of a good time is looking over your shoulder making sure I'm washing the pots and pans while you cater to the poor”.

“If that's what you think, then I suggest that you don't work at the mission any more”.

“And that my dear is probably one of the best suggestions that you've had in weeks”.

“Good by”.

Kevin shook his head, hung up the receiver and walked into his living room. He took a seat in the leather covered recliner, picked up the book that was on the table and finished reading Song Ci's writings about forensic science. By one o'clock that afternoon he closed the book got up out of the chair and returned it to its place in the book case. He spent the rest of the day writing checks and paying bills.

On Monday, April 28, 2014 at eleven sixteen in the morning Kevin looked up from the paper work on his desk seeing a member of Crime Scene Investigative Unit entering the office. The man walked up to McKenna's desk and said, “Ive got something for you Sarge”.

“Whatever it is it had better be good”, Kevin replied.

“It's the report you've been waiting for from the F.B.I. lab”.

“No shit? You mean to tell me that they finally sent it?”

“Yep, seems that what you found was a nose cone off of a Airwing, radio controlled UAV, Talon Drone. That's about all they had to say. I suggest that if you want more info on it you use the internet”.

“Thanks I just might do that”.

Kevin turned his head a looked at Collins who was at his computer. “I'm already on it Sarge”.

About an hour and a half later McKenna and Collins sat waiting for the printer attached to a computer to finish printing the information found in reference to the Talon Drone. Collins stood impatiently and when the last page slid onto the other pages he quickly gathered them up and walked to his desk.

“Do you want these Sarge or do you want me to tell you what we have?”, asked Collins.

“Read it to me. I'll check it before I put it in my report and then the file”.

“O.K. It says here that the Airwing Talon Drone is manufactured by a company called Nitroplanes. They're headquarters is in Los Angeles. The Drone is what they call a RC-UAV-FPV type with an exceptional payload capability”.

“What do those letters mean?”

“RC, is radio controlled. UAV means Unmanned Ariel Vehicle. FPV defined is First Person View. Right now I'm thinking that means it can carry a T.V. camera”.

“Interesting. Continue”.

“It has a wingspan of sixty seven and a half inches and it's flying weight, depended on the size of the camera is approximately seven pounds”.

“Is that it?”

“No sir it's speed is listed at 360 kph. I did the math that translates into two hundred and twenty three miles per hour”.

“Damn!”

“Yeah, damn”.

“Wait a minute, how does it fly? IF it can carry a camera in the nose, where's the propeller?”

“It's mounted in the rear of the drone, there by protecting the propeller. At the same time the landing gear is reinforced.

This thing can travel a distance of ten miles and can maintain flight from between thirty five and forty five minutes on a fully charged battery. Seems that they thought of everything”.

“So did the killer”.

“Then you think the Talon Drone is the murder weapon?”, asked Collins”.

“What else could it be? We found plexiglass shards at both crime scenes. The F.B.I. identified our first findings as the nose cone of a Talon Drone. That's good enough for me”.

“Then our next step is who owns it, who flew it and why did whoever it was kill two men?”

“Right now let's start with who owns it. I want you to contact Nitroplanes. See who they have sold to in the past year in this area. That includes hobby shops or individuals”.

“Got it. The company has a video on line about the Talon Drone if you want to see it”.

“Later John. Right now I want to see the Captain”.

Captain Myers turned in her high back black leather covered desk chair at the sound of someone knocking on her open office door. When she did she saw Sergeant McKenna standing with a smile on his face. “Looks like you've got some good news”, she said.

“Yes Mam. I believe we've identified the murder weapon used in the Mason and Barnett murders”, Kevin replied.

“Really? Have a seat and let me hear what you've got”.

McKenna sat down and said, “The F.B.I. has identified those plexiglass shards we collected as evidence as being from the nose cone of a Talon Drone. I'll keep it short Captain. This drone weighs seven pounds and can travel at the speed of two hundred and twenty three miles an hour. Picture this thing coming at you at that velocity and striking you in the rear of your head. What do you think the injury would be?”

“ I see, but wouldn't the impact cause the drone to stop and fall to the ground?”, she asked.

“Not in the hands of a skilled operator or pilot”.

“Do you have anyone particular in mind?”

“Yes Mam. Steven Barnett”.

“Why?”

“He has the Motive and the capability of flying the drone in the manner needed to kill his brother”.

“I see, but what about Harvey Mason?”

“I think Harvey Mason was used as practice, just to see if using the drone in that manner would work”.

“That's damn cruel”.

“Yes Mam, it is”.

“Anything else?”

“Yes. There is a video of the Talon Drone on line. John Collins and I are going to look at it when I go back to the office”.

“You say it's on line. Can I see it on my computer?”

“Yes, I think so”.

Captain Myers picked up the telephone on her desk and dialed the number for the Major Crime Squad Office. “Major Crime Squad. Detective Collins Speaking. How may I help you?”, he asked.

“John. This is Captain Myers. Come to my office please”.

“Yes Mam”.

When John Collins entered Captain Myers office she met him with, “Sergeant McKenna has told me that there is a video of the drone you two found on the internet. I want you to bring it up on my desk computer so I can also see it”, she said.

“Yes Mam”. In a few minutes Collins brought up, Airwing Talon UAV Quick flight on YouTube .com. “There it is. Tell me when you are ready”, he said.

“I'm ready now”, said Carol Myers.

“Collins using the computer mouse pushed the play arrow.

Together the three of them watched the demonstration video.

When the video was finished. Captain Myers said, “I see what you mean about it being used as a murder weapon. My question to you now is where do you go from here?”

“Actually Captain, by watching this demonstration I just learned that flying this drone on take off requires a two man operation. This means when I'm ready I'll need two search warrants. One for Steven Barnett and one for Howard Simon”.

“When do you think you'll be ready?”, asked the Captain.

“Soon. I still have a few loose ends to take care of. I'll let you know when I'm ready to move”.

“What kind of loose ends?”, asked Captain Myers.

“Naturally they found DNA samples on the plexiglass shards.

I want to match that DNA with samples from Steven Barnett and

the good Reverend Simon.”

“Can you get them?”, she asked.

“I think so”, McKenna answered.

*****************

 

On Saturday, May 2, 2014, Kevin Mckenna donned a black apron in the kitchen of the Mission House. “Nice to see that you changed your mind. We can use your help”, said Whitney.

After smiling at Whitney he glanced at his wristwatch then ran hot water into the deep sink. There he would wash the pots and pans that were used to make the breakfast meal for the homeless. At seven thirty eight Reverend Howard Simon came out of his office carrying a tray. On the tray was the remains of scrambled eggs, a piece of buttered toast and most important a Styrofoam cup that once held coffee. “Good morning Reverend. Good to see you. How have you been?”, asked Kevin.

“Fine Sergeant, just fine. How nice of you to continue our work here”, Simon replied.

“Let me take your tray and you can do whatever you have to do”, said Kevin taking the tray from Simon.

“Thank you”, Simon responded.

When no one was watching Sergeant Mckenna Slipped out the back door of the kitchen. In his hand was the Styrofoam cup used by Howard Simon at breakfast. Waiting in the parking lot

was Detective Collins who took the cup from Kevin and preserved it as evidence and at the same time kept the chain of evidence.

At approximately the same time Sheila McCormick made her way along the top floor of the Regal Hotel. She walked softly to the door of the suite used by Steven Barnett. Outside the door was a cart holding the used cup, glass and dishes used by Steven at this mornings breakfast. Sheila picking up the small, juice glass with the Regal logo and placed it in her pocket book. That afternoon she gave it to Kevin, who placed it in evidence against Steven Barnett.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Ten

Song Ci

 

On Monday, May 12, 2014 heavy rain blew in from the ocean and large drops carried on the wind beat against the window panes of the Major Crime Squad Office. McKenna sat at his desk tapping the eraser end of a pencil on his desk top while deep in thought and frustrated. “I've got just about everything I need to make an arrest in these two cases, but I have to wait for a lab report. I know that at most it takes a lab technician fifty four hours to conduct a DNA examination. Yet, we have to wait about six weeks because of the back load of requests sent in from everywhere. There has to be a better way”,he thought to himself.

John Collins walked into the office his shoes, wet from the rain making squishing sounds as he walked across the linoleum cover floor. His hair was wet as was his shirt collar. “I've got a wet ass. Got caught in the rain, no umbrella or raincoat”, said Collins.

“They issued you a raincoat when you came out of the academy”, Mckenna replied.

“Yeah, but that was for those in uniform. It's reversible, black on one side, orange on the other. It doesn't go with someone in plainclothes. It's bad for appearances”.

“But, looking like a drowned rat doesn’t?

“I suppose that you still have yours, right?”, asked Collins.

“It's over there hanging on the rack”, Kevin answered.

“Yeah, yeah. Anything new this morning Sarge?”

“Nope, just sitting here waiting for the DNA reports to arrive. We've got the search warrants typed up except for the date we need and the judge's signature.”

 

“Are you still going to serve warrants on Fisher and Price?”

“Yes. Don't forget it was you who learned from the company that the drones are sent unassembled to the buyers in boxes. So, according to their records four drones were shipped to James Fisher, Edward Price, Howard Simon and Steven Barnett, all members of the Nautilus Beach Flyers. Now, at this time I don't suspect Fisher or Price to be involved in this case. However, there is a slim possibility that one or the others drone might have been used in the murders. I doubt it, but we have to be sure”.

“Are you still working at the Mission House”, asked Collins.

“Yeah. Right now is not the time to leave. The good Reverend might get suspicious. I've caught him a couple of times watching me, kind of studying me”.

“How about your teacher friend does she suspect anything?”

“No and she has no reason to suspect anything. When we talk, police work is not the general subject”.

Collins laughed. “Then what is?”

“Mostly it's about the poor, the homeless, children arriving in school hungry having nothing to eat for breakfast”.

“Damn, that has to put a damper on any conversation”.

“Tell me about it”.

Kevin got up from behind his desk and walked to the window, He stood and watched the rain beating down on the parking lot below. From time to time the wind blew a torrent of water against the glass pane. “What a miserable day. Another day of waiting. It seems that we spend our time either waiting for something to happen or waiting for something in order to make an arrest. Police work is sixty per cent waiting and forty per cent

doing the job”, he said.

Memorial Day came and went and still the DNA results did not arrive. “Six months! Six months and we're still sitting on our ass knowing who killed Mason and Barnett and we can't make a move because of a back log of evidence in the laboratory. One of these days this city will have to get off of their ass and deal locally for DNA testing instead of waiting for the State of Federal labs to do the examinations”, said McKenna totally frustrated.

“That won't happen Sarge. It's not like we're investigating a homicide every month. Right now there's no call for a local lab”, said Collins.

“They could use the local hospital lab”, Kevin replied.

“Yeah, you're right on that account”, Collins responded.

On Friday, June 6, 2014 the DNA reports arrived indicating positively that the samples taken from the Styrofoam cup and the juice glass matched the DNA found on the plexiglass shards offered as evidence. “Looks like we can serve the warrants”, said Collins.

“Yes, but I'm not quite ready?”, said McKenna.

“Not ready? You've been pacing back and forth, bitching about delays and now, you're not ready?”

“That's right. I want everything to be just right”, Kevin replied as he reached for the telephone and dialed the telephone number of the local weather bureau.

Collins stood with his mouth open, not believing what he was seeing and hearing.

“I see. Then, Tuesday, the tenth is projected to be mild, temperature in the seventies, sunny and wind velocity low or none existent?”

“That's correct”, came the answer.

“Thank you”, said McKenna and he hung up the receiver.

“Looking at Collins he said, “Date the search warrants for Tuesday, June ten. Take them to the judge and have him sign them. Then when that's done we'll go over the search and seizure of the drones and the arrests with Captain Myers. That’s it for now”.

At nine o'clock on the morning of Tuesday, June 10, 2014 Captain Carol Myers, commanding Officer of the Nautilus Beach Police Department's Major Crime Squad ordered the execution of the four search warrants. The Airwing, Radio controlled, Unmanned Aerial Vehicle, First Person View, Talon, Drone belonging to Edward Price, James fisher, Howard Simon and Steven Barnett were seized as evidence and transported by police vans to the rear of police headquarters, as was the owners of the model air crafts. Members of the Major Crime Squad and other detectives assigned to the serving of the warrants removed the drone that they had seized then stood beside it, protecting the chain of evidence. All four individuals complained, demanded answers to why they had been served and brought in for questioning.

As Captain Myers explained the action of the police, Kevin McKenna stood looking at Steven Barnett and Howard Simon who like the others stood silently listening standing behind their drone. He noticed that each drone had the clear, plexiglass nose cone attached. While Carol Myers advised the four men of their rights under the law a bright, warm, morning sun beat down on those assembled there warming them and heating the black, tarmac.

When she finished speaking she turned to Sergeant McKenna and said, “ Sergeant.”

Kevin stepped forward and addressed the small group.

“Gentlemen, I apologize for your inconvenience. Hopefully, this won't take too long. At this time I would like you to removed the plexiglass nose cone from in front of your drone please”.

“Why?”, asked Edward Price.

“I'll explain later”, McKenna replied.

Each man stepped forward. Barnett was first. Simon hung back and was the last to act.

“Thank you. And, now if you would please return to your position behind your drone and try to stand still”.

“What kind of games are you playing. It's getting hot and buggy”, said Barnett.

“No game Mr. Barnett and as I said, sorry for the inconvenience. This shouldn't be too much longer”. As he spoke he saw the blue bottle flies begin to circle. Then one after another landed on the front of one particular drone. They landed than slowly moved over, around and under the nose of the Talon drone of Howard Simon. In a matter of minutes the accumulation of insects nearly covered the camera housing area. Kevin stood looking, then turned to members of his unit. “Take a good look, because what you see is evidence that you will testify to in court. Mr. Fisher, Mr. Price, you're free to go. Uniform officers will transport you and you property back to your homes. Mr. Barnett, Reverend Simon, I arrest you for conspiracy to commit murder and for the murder of Harvey Mason and Charles Barnett. Detective Collins will read you your rights. Take them away”.

When the two suspects were led away Captain Myers said, “You're basing your arrest on a bunch of flies?”

“Yes Mam. What happened was the flies detected the smell of blood and they began to land to investigate and feed. Barnett and Simon killed both victims by flying the drone into the heads of Mason and Barnett. Steven Barnett is an experienced pilot owning his own Cessna that he flies quite often. He is the one that could expertly control the drone traveling at two hundred and twenty three miles an hour to fly, gain altitude then dive and strike the victim. If you remember Harvey Mason was found face down with a wood splinter in his nose. That happened as he was walking down the boardwalk, struck in the head by the drone with enough force to have him fall face down and sliding.

Remember, an object in motion tends to remain in motion. Unfortunately, as I've already stated in my written reports, Harvey Mason was used as a guinea pig while Barnett and Simon experimented. Charles Barnett is who they really wanted to kill. And, they did.”

“Alright, you said that Steven was the expert operator of Simon's drone. Other than providing the weapon how can you connect him with Steven?”, asked Captain Myers.

“Two ways. Remember when you viewed the operation video of the Talon Drone in your office?”

“Yes”.

“Then you should have noticed that in order to get the drone into the air it is a two man operation. One holds the aircraft while the other mans the radio operated controls. Simon held the drone and launched it into the air on Steven's orders.”

“You said two ways. What's the other?”

“A video tape recorded the night of Charles Barnett's murder. The tape shows Simon carrying a black bag. I'm betting that it contained the First Person View, the radio control and an extra fully charged battery”.

“Then, how did they get the drone with a wing span of nearly sixty eight inches into the hotel and on to the sun deck?”

“That's easy. They flew it at night and landed it on the deck”.

“I have another question. In the video the Talon drone makes a rather loud noise. Why didn't either victim turn, look up and move out of the way?”

“In the case with Mason he was half drunk. The autopsy showed that his blood alcohol was high enough to impair all or nearly all of his faculties. With Charles Barnett it was New Years Eve. Fireworks were exploding in the air. People on the boardwalk were looking out towards the ocean and up into the sky. No one heard or saw the drone. Steven Barnett and the good Reverend were counting on that”.

“Now one more question”.

“Yes Mam?”

“How did you know the flies would go after that drone?”

“I didn't know for sure. As you know I live in Captain Wallace's condo. Over the years he collected and read volumes of books relating to crime and criminal investigations. One such book is, “The Collected Cases Of Injustice Rectified', by Song Ci. Song Ci is thought to be the father of forensic medicine and served as a presiding judge in the Chinese high courts for many terms. One of the cases he was involved in was the murder of a farmer back in the thirteenth century. Song Ci examined the body and determined that the man was killed when struck several times with a sickle. He ordered that every sickle in the village be brought to court and laid out in the sun. When this was done flies detected blood on one particular sickle. The owner was arrested and charged. A common mistake many murderers make is thinking that because they thought they washed away blood or mopped up blood stains, often minute traces remain. I took a chance that history might repeat itself. Fortunately it did”.

“And what would you have done if no flies were present?

“The same thing I'm going to do now. We'll send the drone for blood and DNA analysis that should cement the drone as being the murder weapon”.

“Very good Kevin. Your father and Captain Wallace should be very proud of you. I am”.

“Thank you Captain.”

Later, Kevin sifted through the stack of envelopes he held in his hands. As he did the elevator he was in ascended to the sixth floor. When the doors opened he stepped forward into the hallway still engrossed with reading the correspondence, trying to separate bills from advertisements. Reaching his door he unlocked it, walked into the condo and tossed everything but the electric bill into the wastepaper basket. The electric bill he placed on the desk top. As he stood removing his dark, blue blazer he saw that the red light on his telephone was blinking, alerting him that he had recorded messages. He pushed the play back button and heard Whitney Nelsons voice. “Kevin, this is Whitney, I've been trying to reach you. Please call me at home”.

Another message and another familiar voice was heard, that of Mary Wagner Wallace. “Hello Kevin. I know you must be busy, but I have news about Robert. Call me when you can dear. Oh, by the way, congratulations on the arrests in the two murders. Bye”.

He walked into the kitchen wanting a glass of ice tea. He saw a note taped to the refrigerator door. “made you a sweet potato pie. You're welcome. Friday I'll be changing the linen, so don't make your bed,

Cordella

Opening the refrigerator he saw the pie, smiled, then removed the pitcher of ice tea and carried it to the kitchen table.

He poured himself a glass removed the receiver from the wall telephone took a seat and dialed Mary's number.

“Hello?”, said Mary answering the call.

“Aunt Mary, this is Kevin. How are you?”

“Wonderful, just wonderful. I received a telegram from Sharon in Australia. She says that Robert is flying home, home to the United States. Isn't that marvelous?”

“ Yes, yes it is. Did she say when he'll be arriving?”

“The first week in July”.

“Good, that gives me time to pack”.

“Pack? He's not going back to the condominium. He's coming here. Here with me. He's in a wheel chair and needs someone to see that he takes his medicine and insulin injections.”

“Has he agreed to live with you?”

“Yes and surprisingly he didn't argue the point”.

“Great. I'm happy for you Aunt Mary. I know how much you love him. Call me if you need anything and especially when Uncle Bob gets home”.

“I will Kevin. Thank you and good by”.

Mckenna took a sip of ice tea then dialed Whitney's number.

Her telephone rang twice then she answered it. Hello?”, she said.

“Hello yourself. How are you?”

“How am I? Not too good at the moment”.

“Something wrong?”

“Wrong can't describe what I feel. I hope that you're satisfied now. By arresting Reverend Simon the Mission House will undoubtedly close. Ask yourself Kevin. Ask yourself just what happens to the families, the children, the homeless men and women on the street. Who will feed and shelter them?”

“Wait a minute. You want to blame me because I arrested two men that committed two homicides?”

“Isn't it said, that everyone is considered innocent until proven guilty?”

“That's what they say. Keep in mind however that my job is not to try them but to gather evidence and present the facts and evidence, which I did. They're guilt or innocence is a problem for the county Prosecutor. Not me”.

“Meanwhile Reverend Simon sits in the county jail. As he does, the food bank is closed as is the kitchen. What are these poor people going to do?”

“I really don't know”.

“And, you really don't care. Do you?”

“Certainly, but I also know there are other charitable organizations and the city and county welfare systems”.

“That's not the same”.

“No it's not and you know why? Because they don't have you. You want to be the Mother Superior Of The Soup Kitchen.

Sure, you were poor, homeless even hungry, but at the same time you were getting attention. That's understandable for a little girl.

Now, you're a grown woman. I've watched you in the Mission House standing behind the food line having the needy pass by all of them thanking you over and over. I've seen the look on your face as you look down on them mentally saying, “You poor bastards. I made it. Why can't you?”

“That's not true”.

“Yes it is and as far as your Reverend Howard Simon? He is a scam artist with a correspondence course ordination”.

“I don't believe it”

“You refuse to believe it”

“You don't care about the poor and the needy. You only care about yourself and material things”.

“You know after meeting you and being accused of having a cold, stone heart in regards to the poor I did a lot of soul searching. Guess what I found? I found that when it comes to the homeless on the street I protect them from guys like your Reverend Simon, themselves and each other. And now when it comes to the problem of the Mission House I really don't know what will happen to it. Here's an idea. Quit your job as a teacher and take over the place. Keep one thing in mind however, Steven Barnett won't be sending left over food from the hotel or money from his bank account. You'll be on your own”.

“If I did, I'd be just fine. Please don't call me anymore or try to visit me”.

“Hey what an excellent idea, but I already thought of that”.

There was a loud click as Whitney Nelson hung up her telephone.

Kevin then went to the freezer. He had a choice. He could have either a frozen turkey dinner or a frozen meatloaf dinner. He chose the meatloaf, set the oven temperature to 350 placed the meal on an oven proof dish, closed the oven door and left the kitchen heading for a shower.

Even after showering and putting on clean clothes the meal still had twelve minutes to cook before it could be consider ready to eat. He looked at the wall clock, saw that it was near six and thought about calling Sheila.”I hate to wake her”, he thought to himself. “I'll wait until I'm finished eating”, he said aloud.

Just as he was taking his dinner out of the oven the telephone on the kitchen wall rang. Kevin placed the hot baking dish holding his dinner on the stove top, removed the oven mitts then answered the call. “Hello”, he said.

“I hope I'm not bothering you”, said Sheila.

“No, just taking something out of the oven”.

“Oh, I'm interrupting your supper. I'm sorry. I'll call back later”.

“Hey, it's no big deal. Don't hang up. As a matter of fact I was going to call you. What have you been doing?”

“Looking for a job. Holtz fired me”.

“Why?”

“For giving you the security camera video tapes”.

“Hey, I'm sorry”.

“It's nothing to be sorry for. Something will turn up. I can always sling hash. I was a waitress once. I can do it again. Why were you gong to call me?”
“Well, as you know we made the arrest's. The two cases are closed and it's a tradition for our squad to celebrate by having dinner at the Glass Menagerie. So, we're getting together Friday night. I was hoping that you would go with me”.

“Really? I've never been there. Sure I'd love to go with you.”

“Good. I hope you like to dance”.

“Yes, I do”.

*****************

On the following Saturday morning Kevin McKenna sat at his kitchen table taking sips from a mug containing hot coffee.

As he did he heard the front door of the condo open and then close. The sound of footsteps came from the foyer and hallway and then Cordella Jenkins appeared in the kitchen.

“Good morning Cordella, said Kevin.

“Ummmm hmmm. I hear water runnin. Somebody in the shower?

“Yep”.

“Well, I ain't goin to ask who. Ain't none of my business, but I bet you be glad I changed the linen”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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