Chapter One War Stories

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE

 

MEDUSA

 

FILE

 

by

 

Robert F. Clifton

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Medusa File

Copyright 2015 by Robert F. Clifton

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be

reproduced in any form or by any means without

written permission from the author.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dedicated To The Memory Of

 

Ellsworth R. Long

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The reader is advised that this book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to names of characters, places and/or events is purely coincidental.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Retired Police Captain, Robert Wallace is visited by his godson, Kevin McKenna. As they both sit on the back porch talking on a summers day the conversation naturally turns to police work. Wallace reveals the one, most difficult case of homicide that he investigated. He called it “The Medusa File”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Table of Contents

 

Chapter One.....War Stories

Chapter Two..... The Cinderella Hypothesis

Chapter Three...The Devil's Breath

Chapter Four.....Teeny

Chapter Five......The Dolphin Motel

Chapter Six........Telephone Calls

Chapter Seven....N.C.I.C.

Chapter Eight.....Twana

Chapter Nine...... A Lasting Impression

Chapter Ten....... A Girl Named Pat

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

War Stories

 

Robert Wallace leaned to his right reaching for the cold glass of ice tea that Mary had put on the table next to him. He picked up the glass, took a long drink and returned it. Then, out of habit he glanced at his wristwatch. He didn't know why he wanted to know the time. He wasn't going anywhere and at eleven o'clock on a Sunday morning there was nothing on television but, yesterdays news and church services.

Even though it was a nice September day, with the sun shining in a cloudless sky and a cool breeze coming in off of the ocean Wallace was uncomfortable. He was always uncomfortable since he was reduced to getting around in a wheelchair. Chronic diabetes over the years had caused neuropathy to slowly destroy the nerves necessary for mobility. For a man who once played football, and hiked the forest trails for miles being confined was demoralizing. At the same time he was embarrassed when old friends dropped in to see him. Often when aware of they're planned arrival he would have Mary Wallace help him into a living room chair where he sat there and in his mind appeared healthy and happy.

This day was different. His visitor today would be his godson, Kevin McKenna. Wallace considered the young police detective to be not only the son of a friend, but family. As a result there was no need to pretend. Family and close friends were aware of Robert Wallace and his health problems. Mary Wagner Wallace had told those people close to them about his return from Australia and his condition. At the same time it was Mary, his ex-wife who insisted that he live again with her so she could take care of him. He resisted at first, but finally gave in after taking the advice of Sharon Edwards, the wife of his best friend.

So, he boarded a plane in Perth, flew to Hawaii then to Los Angeles and finally to Philadelphia where he was met by Mary. That was two months ago and in those two months Mary Wagner Wallace tested his blood for glucose four times a day, created the meals he ate, administered the drugs he took each morning and injected the three kinds of insulin required each and everyday. And, Robert Wallace sat confined to a wheelchair despondent, yet grateful for the love and care displayed by a woman who once was his wife.

At eleven twenty seven that morning Wallace heard the front door bell ring, then the quick steps of Mary walking to the door. Next came the masculine voice of Kevin. “Hello, Aunt Mary”. “Hello Kevin. How good to see you. How have you been?”, asked Mary.

“Fine. I hope I'm not too early”.

“Of course not. Uncle Bob is on the porch. Go see him and while you two talk I'll make lunch”.

“Thank you”, answered Kevin as he walked towards the sliding glass doors leading to the rear, screened in porch. The doors were open as when he walked through the entrance he saw his godfather sitting in the wheelchair waiting for him. “Kevin, how good to see you son, come have a seat and tell me what you've been doing”.

Kevin McKenna took a seat in a cushioned chair and said, “Not too much Uncle Bob. Things are a bit slow, which is good”.

“True, true. How's Carol?”, asked Wallace.

“Captain Myers? She's good. She gets a little testy at times, other than that she a great commander”.

“Glad to hear it. I remember the heat I took when I put her on my squad. No one wanted to work with a woman. We had a couple of homicides in Garwood village.. One victim was Amanda Kinshoffer. The killer sliced her pretty bad. I remember Carol puking her guts out, but she hung in there. Later, the killer, Lionel Horton took a hostage in Garwood Village. The son of a bitch shot me twice. Once in the abdomen and once in the left hip. Carol shot and killed the bastard. There was no questioning her being on the Major Crime Squad after that. I still get a pain in the hip once and a while, especially on cold damp days. Funny, now that I think of it I always thought that your father and Myers would hook up and marry. They never did. Tom Mckenna married Molly, your mother and Carol? Well Carol has yet to tie the knot so to speak”.

“Speaking of marriage, it's none of my business Uncle Bob, but I know that aunt Mary would love to marry you again”, said Kevin.

“For what?” This house is her house. It was when we married and `it was hers when we divorced. I'm leaving everything I own, the condo building, life insurance, my pension, all go to her when I croak. So what else can I give her? My name? She kept that then the divorce was final.”

“Speaking of the condo's. Do you want me to move out?”

“Hell no. Stay as long as you want”.

“At least let me pay rent”.

“No way. Enough about that. What I want you to do is be careful out there”.

“I am Uncle Bob”.

“I don't mean be careful protecting yourself. I mean be careful in you actions, your decision making. Right now it seems that there are a few assholes in law enforcement that think they can be judge, jury and executioner. Every time I turn around it's some cop shooting and killing a citizen or beating the hell out of someone. Where are they getting these goons? Where is the training? I think its about young recruits watching and believing what they see on television shows and games. That, and listening to the bullshit some guy in the ranks that thinks he knows all the answers. Anyway, listen to me. Think, think quick and think right, then if you must, act. Now, I'll step off of the soapbox. What have you been doing?”

“As you know when there are no active cases we go back the cold case files. One of the reasons I'm here is I came across an unsolved case of yours. You labeled it, “The Medusa File”

“Ah, that one. Yeah, that was a long time ago. I'm certain that the suspect, Edward Dawson is or was the killer”.

“Why do you refer to him as Medusa?”, asked Kevin.

“I don't. Edward owned and operated a boarding house in the inlet district of town on Albatross Lane. If you are familiar with Greek mythology, Medusa was so hideous that those that looked upon her turned to stone. Three of Dawson's victims died from strychnine poison. Keep in mind that from ten to twenty minutes after being exposed the body's muscles begin to spasm starting with the head and neck in the form of trismus or risus sardonicus. Trismus you will know as lockjaw, sardonicus Risus. Lockjaw, sardonicus Sardonicus is a sustained spasm that induces a forced grin,lockjaw, sardonicus. The spasms then spread throughout the body affecting every muscle accompanied with continuous convulsions. As the convulsions continue the spine begins to arch. Death usually occurs when asphyxiation caused by the constricting airways is complete. It's a hell of a way to die. But, to answer your question about naming the case, The Medusa File. I did that because of the hideous painful grin the victims had on their face. A look as if they had gazed upon the face of Medusa”.

“You know that my next question is, why didn't you arrest him?”, asked Kevin.

“Because the investigation got screwed up”.

“How?”

“You have to remember that I had just been transferred from uniform patrol to detective. When the bodies started to show up I was assigned to the Major Crime Squad. At that time the commander of the unit was Captain John Eppinger He was a nice guy, but dumber then cat shit. He and his kind joined the police department before civil service. In his day Nautilus Beach was run by corrupt politicians. A guy could join the police department and after a couple of years pay five hundred dollars to the political organization and the next day he was promoted to sergeant. Then allowing two or three years to go by, another donation, this time for a thousand dollars and the guy was promoted to lieutenant. In short, even though Eppinger was a nice guy he was still not qualified to command. He sure as hell was not experienced in homicide investigations, but unfortunately, he was the boss and as so agreed or disagreed with the findings and made all decisions.”

“O.K. I understand that, but how did the investigation get screwed up.

“Remember, I told you that three of Edward Dawson's victims died from strychnine poisoning. There was another killing, this time a stabbing and as a matter of fact in my opinion this is where the investigation went into the shit house”.

“I'm listening”.

“Captain Eppinger and I were the first investigators to enter the bedroom which in fact was a room the victim rented from Edward. The room was small, containing a single, twin bed, chest of drawers and as I recall one, old and worn overstuffed chair. On top of the chest of drawers was a hot plate still plugged in but not operating. The heating element was cold.

The victim, later identified as Michael Winters was laying face down on a blood soaked gray rug. He was nude. The first thing I noticed was a stab wound located just under his left shoulder. The second thing I observed was several star-shaped blood stains on his bare back.”.

“Meaning what?”, asked Kevin.

“Meaning that while Mr. Winters lay dying or dead someone, someone bleeding profusely stood over him. As that person bled, drops of their blood fell down upon Winters back thus creating the star shaped stain. In my opinion the person standing over Winters was bleeding from the nose”.

“And, I take it Captain Eppinger disagreed”.

“His opinion was that because there was a stab wound in the shoulder ,Winters arched his back in pain and it was his blood that I found on the back”.

“Impossible! If that were the case Winters Blood would have dropped to the floor on the rug”.

“Exactly. I wanted CSI to take scrapings of the star-shaped blood stains,, figuring at least we could determine a blood type, if nothing else”.

“Let me guess. They didn't”

“Correct. Captain Eppinger insisted that his theory was the correct one and other evidence was needed”.

“And, did he find any?”

“No, I did. I walked over to the single bed. When I looked down I saw a man's wristwatch with a broken leather band. Along side of the watch and band was the pin that holds the watchband to the watch. To me this indicated a struggle. In that struggle the watchband was pulled loose from the watch itself and landed on the bed. To me, during the struggle, Winters resisted, possibly punching his attacker in the face. That punch injured his attackers nose. Then, there was the stabbing”.

“What about it?”

“Remember we found Winters face down on a blood soaked rug. Although he had a stab wound in the back of his left shoulder that wound was not the cause of copious amounts of bleeding, that soaked the rug. So, we rolled the victim over and onto his back. When we did we saw the stab wound in the stomach. Later, during the autopsy the pathologist confirmed that the stab in the stomach area also punctured the aorta, causing a death within minutes”.

“What did Captain Eppinger have to say about those findings?”

“Not too much. He couldn't very well argue with a pathologist report”.

“O.K., then what happened?”

“While Eppinger was giving orders to the Crime Scene Investigators I walked over to where the chest of drawers was located in the room. As I told you the hot plate on top of it was cold, but plugged in the electric socket. Then, I noticed taped to the wall was a calendar. At the time we believed that Winters had been killed on the night of October 15, 1968. Looking at the calendar I noticed that written on the date of October 9, 1968 were the words, “Met Pat”.

“Who was Pat?”

“I wish I knew. Find Pat and you find the missing element to solving this case”.

“Let's get back to Ed Dawson. Why wasn't he arrested?”

“That's easy to answer. As mentioned the cause of death of the three victims who died in the boarding house was from the ingesting of strychnine. When we dug into the life styles of the dead men we found that all three were not junkies”.

“Yeah, so?”

“All three were not cocain users, but they had snorted. Samples taken from their nasal passage revealed that the coke they used had been cut, using strychnine. We couldn't prove that Ed Dawson either sold or gave the drug to the victims”.

“Why would a dealer cut his supply using strychnine? I can understand cutting the stuff to increase profit, but don't they usually use milk sugar or baking powder, things like that?”

“Yes, normally, however when used in small dosages strychnine is a stimulant”.

“I didn't know that”.

“Yeah, just imagine. A guy blows coke because of the high he gets, then on top of it the strychnine kicks in and he goes even higher”.

“O.K. Let's go back to the Winters murder. You said that you found the words, “Met Pat” written on the calendar. I know you followed up on the lead”.

“Certainly. We went door to door in the neighborhood looking for anyone either named Pat or knew someone named Pat. We came up empty”.

“Then, my next question is whether this Pat is male or female?”

“Again, I don't know, but my assumption then and is still that this Pat was a female”.

“Why?”

“How many men do you know would write as guy's name on his calendar?”

“Personally? None, but have you ever considered gay men?”

“Of course. In checking Winters personal and private life I found that he was straight”.

“Or perhaps, he seemed to be”.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I still consider the owner of the Name Pat on the calendar to be a female”.

“And you're probably right Uncle Bob, but I'm stuck with the fact that Pat could or can be Patriona, Patricia or Patrick. Once I determine what I'm looking for I can then begin looking for who I'm looking for. I hope you understand”.

“Hey, I'm sure you know how I operated. I never, ever took the position that my way was the only way to do things. Right now you might be right. If so, then I suggest that you follow up on your instinct. Pursue your ideas. Doing that may be just what you need to solve the case. If not, at any event it's documented in your reports. You covered another base, so to speak”.

“Good, that's what I intend to do. Since this was originally your case I'll keep you up to date on what I find. That is if you're interested”.

“ Certainly I'm interested. This unsolved murder and the way the investigation was screwed up has left a bad taste in my mouth for almost fifty years. Before they burn my dead ass in the crematorium I want to know that this case is solved and closed”.

Both men looked up when they saw Mary Wallace walk on to the porch. “ Put two policemen together and eventually they will tell each other stories of how they did it or are doing it. I think they're called war stories. Anyway, I've prepared lunch. Do you want it out here on the porch or inside at the dining room table?”

“Out here is fine Aunt Mary, providing that you join us”, said Kevin.

“Fine, first I have to check your uncles blood. I'll be right back with the glucometer”.

“Can I help you with anything?”, asked Kevin.

“No, thank you. I'll be just a moment”.

“So, Uncle Bob, besides still being in love with Aunt Mary why else did you leave Australia?”

“Two reasons. First my health. Second Doc Edwards has Alzheimer disease. Sharon, his wife has her hands full, so I decided to come home. Evidently and without my knowledge Sharon wrote to Mary and told her about my condition. As a result Mary then began first, suggesting that I come live with her in order for her to take care of me. Then second, after awhile she wore me down and here I am”.

“And it's good that you are”.

“Enough about me. How's your family?”

“Good Uncle Bob, good”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two

The Cinderella Hypothesis

 

On another, early September, Monday morning, Detective Sergeant, Kevin McKenna parked the unmarked radio car in front of a boarded up, old and deteriorating three story house.The front door and most of the windows were boarded up with sheets of plywood. Those windows on the second and third floors that weren't covered had become the victims of rock throwing juveniles.

McKenna reached down and picked up a flashlight along with a small crowbar that he had placed on the floor in front of the passenger seat. Exiting the automobile he locked the car and walked up three steps and on to the porch of 1600 Albatross Lane, Nautilus Beach, New Jersey. Standing in front of the boarded up front door he pried the old, weathered, sheet of plywood away from the door frame. It came away after making a moaning noise as it was pulled away from the entrance. Then, using one foot he kicked the door hard. The force he used was enough to open the door and it swung suddenly on its hinges, making a loud bang as it crashed against the interior wall. He stepped inside. He stood for a minute allowing his eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness. In front of him was a rolled up carpet. A musty smell came to him, a result of the house being boarded up and sealed, away from any circulating air. Kevin turned on the flashlight and moved into what was once the living room. He placed the yellow beam from the light on the walls that then revealed spots of mildew on sea foam green paint. Walking slowly from the living room he made his way through what could have been used as a dining room and then into the kitchen. There, the flashlight revealed rust spots in the sink, wooden cupboards, two still containing shelf paper and dead cockroaches and one housing a spider web.

He directed the light beam to the kitchen floor. That then revealed the worn out linoleum, it's black base appearing among the now dirty, original blue and white pattern. McKenna then turned and left the kitchen. Next, he made his way to the staircase and began to ascend slowly, not trusting the wooden steps that creaked and moaned under his weight. He reached for the banister and found that it was still solid and he used it until he stepped on to the second floor landing.

Standing a few minutes in the semi-darkness he used the flashlight to illuminate a dark hallway. Then, he noticed the doorways that he assumed were once the bedrooms. The first door to his left was ajar and he pushed it with his free hand. Once fully open he entered a large bedroom. By the size of the room he thought that this was the master bedroom, then theorized that it had probably been used by the owner, Edward Dawson. The other bedrooms on this and the third floor were the rooms rented to others.

The beam from sunlight revealed a floor cluttered with articles of a man's clothing. There was a soiled, shirt, one white sock, neckties, a roll of white adhesive tape and pages from a newspaper. Kevin bent over and picked up one of the pages and again using the flashlight saw that the date on the newspaper read, “Sunday, January 1980”. “Thirty five years ago. Has this house and this room been abandoned for this long?”, Kevin asked himself mentally. He dropped the newspaper and walked to a closet door. Opening it he used the light beam to explore the interior of the wardrobe. The top self was empty. There were several empty wire clothes hangers. Shining the light on the closet floor he found one, black, leather, woman's shoe. He picked it up off of the floor and using the light saw that it was a size ten. “Odd, the few articles of clothing on the bedroom floor indicate a man's wearing apparel. Yet, here in the closet is a woman's shoe, and it's a large size”,thought Kevin. “I'll have this thing tested for DNA”, he said aloud.

Find nothing else of interest Mckenna left the master bedroom and then entered the other two bedrooms located on this, the second floor. Once again, the two rooms held nothing of interest, even though he was sure one of the rooms was where Michael Winters was murdered. To be sure he re-examined the room directly across from the master bedroom. With his vision obscured by the lack of light he walked to the window. There he raised the cloth and paper roller shade. When he did sunlight entered and flooded the room allowing him to see. What he saw was and empty room, no furniture and no sign that anyone had ever inhabited the bedroom. What he did find was a mark on the painted wall. Looking closely he saw what he thought was residue from strips of Duct tape. The tape that in all probability held a calendar to the wall. Next, he examined the floor. Captain Wallace had said that Michael Winters had been found face down on a blood soaked rug. He looked closely, but was unable to find any signs of blood using the naked eye.

McKenna then climbed the staircase to the third floor. When he reached the third floor landing he felt the cool breeze coming in off of the ocean. He walked slowly to one of the rooms, gently pushed open a door and stood and watched as pigeons flapping their wings in fear flew out of the shattered windows. Now, with abundant sunlight he was able to examine the rooms with little effort, but found nothing of interest or importance to the case.

Returning to the street and his assigned vehicle Sergeant McKenna used his radio, contacting police headquarters and requesting that the City Public Works Department secure the front door of the house located at 1600 Albatross Lane. Since the property was City owned taken some time back in lieu of back taxes owed, securing the property in his opinion was no problem. Kevin then looked again at the black, leather shoe that now was on the passenger seat next to him.

Back at headquarters Mckenna sat at his desk and using the word processor typed and then printed his report containing his actions and findings at the Albatross Lane address. Then after marking the inside of the shoe with his initials got up and took it to the Forensic Unit. There he requested a DNA test. In particular he wanted to know the gender of whoever wore it.

As he was walking back to his desk he passed the open door of his commanding officer. Captain Myers happened to see him and called. “Sergeant, do you have a minute?”

“Yes Mam”, he answered as he turned and walked into Carol Myers office.

“Have a seat”, she said pointing to a chair”.

“Is something wrong?”, he asked.

“I don't know yet. I just received a telephone call from the Commissioner of Public Works. It seems that a police officer, a plain clothes officer broke the front door of a house at 1600 Albatross Lane. On top of that he had the audacity to call in and order the Public Works Department crew to not only repair the damage to the door, but to secure the building. Do you happen to know anything about that?”

“Yeah, I'm working a cold case, the Medusa File. I had to go there looking for information and evidence”, Kevin replied.

“And, what did you find, may I ask?”

“Both”

“Both? Like what?”

“Information, the house at that address was supposedly a rooming house for men. Evidence? A woman's shoe. A shoe I found in the closet of the bedroom I think was used by the owner and suspect, Edward Dawson”.

“I see and let me guess. Like the Prince in Cinderella you're going to see if the shoe fits the foot of Mr. Dawson. And, if it does what are you going to prove, that he is a cross dresser or has a girl friend with large feet?”

“Actually, I'm working on the assumption that Dawson is a transvestite”.

“Really, the last time I looked into the Criminal Codes of New Jersey I don't remember seeing that being a transvestite is a crime”.

“It isn't”

“Then why are you dwelling on that theory?”

“It's just a hunch I have”.

“I see. Well, while you're concentrating on your opinions and hunches, concentrate on paying the city three hundred and eighty seven dollars for the work that was done on the front door of 1600 Albatross Lane”

“That's a hell of a lot for nailing a door shut and covering it with plywood”.

“Union rates. Two men, one to hold the door shut and one to nail. Don't pay and the Chief will have to either discipline you or take it out of your pay. Your call”.

“I'll give them my check tomorrow morning”.

“Good. That's all for now, but I suggest that in the future you use a little bit of common sense. You can't go around breaking private or public property unless like everything else related to police work, you have probable cause”.

“Yes Mam”.

“Alright return to your duties. I have your report. I don't know where you are going with your Cinderella hypothesis, but the Medusa File is your cold case assignment. Do it your way, but professionally and legal. Do you understand?”

“Yes Mam”.

Later that day after supper Kevin McKenna sat at the desk and wrote a check for three hundred and eighty seven dollars, payable to the City of Nautilus Beach, New Jersey.He then placed the check in with the copied Medusa File and got up and went to the brown, leather, recliner chair. He took a seat and began reading the reports of then, Detective Robert Wallace.

“February 2, 1968 Norman Peters, Caucasian male, age 37. Occupation, amusement ride operator. Victim. Found dead in rented room, number 207 at 1600 Albatross Lane. Nautilus Beach. New Jersey. No signs of violence. Subject had strange grin on face. Poisoning suspected at this time. Victim sent to hospital morgue for pathological testing and autopsy

“February 13. 1968. Norman Peters, victim, case # 3703. Subject died as result of overdose cocain containing strychnine. See pathologist report attached.”

Kevin turned to the next report page in the copies.

“April 8, 1968 Harry Nichols. Caucasian Male age 40. Occupation laundry worker. Victim found unresponsive in room 209 1600 Albatross Lane, Nautilus Beach, New Jersey. Subject rushed to hospital via ambulance. Pronounced D.O.A. upon arrival at emergency ward. Subject viewed at hospital morgue by the undersigned. Subject had hideous grin on face. Now awaiting pathology and autopsy report”.

“April 16, 1968 Harry Nichols, victim case #37 04. Subject reported to have died as a result of overdose of cocain containing strychnine. See pathologist report attached.

Again. Kevin turned to the next report.

“August 30, 1968 Sheldon Holmes, Caucasian male, age 57.

Occupation taxi cab driver. Subject found unresponsive in bed in room 211, 1600 Albatross Lane, Nautilus beach, New Jersey. Arriving ambulance squad unable to resuscitate. Subject rushed to hospital. Pronounced dead upon arrival, hospital emergency room. Police notified by Dr. Andrew Phillips”.

“September 10, 1968 Sheldon Holmes, victim, case # 3705.

Subject reported to have died as a result of overdose of cocain containing strychnine. See pathologist report attached.”

“Tuesday, October 15, 1968 at 9:15 A.M. police called to room 205, 1600 Albatross Lane. Subject, Michael Winters, Caucasian male age 53, occupation, Time Keeper, Morton hotel, Nautilus Beach, New Jersey. Subject found face down. Was nude. Stab wound in lower left shoulder. Further investigation revealed stab wound abdomen. Evidence of struggle. Body sent to hospital morgue by order of county coroner. Evidence?

“Friday, November 1,1968. Michael Winters, case # 3706. Subject reported to have died as a result of stab wounds which punctured the victims aorta resulting in his death, See pathologist and autopsy report attached”.

“Strange, in his report Wallace typed evidence but with a question mark. Why?”, Kevin asked himself mentally.

After turning several pages McKenna found the evidence report. In it was the mention of the star shaped blood stains on the victims back, the calendar marked “Met Pat” and the mans Timex wristwatch and broken band. Strangely, a red line had been drawn through the mentioned blood stains and the reporting of the words written on the calendar. There was no reports or mention of interviews with relatives or possible witnesses.

Kevin placed the case report papers back in the manila folder and carried it to the desk. While there he printed a copy of the check he wrote then placed the original check in his wallet. He looked around the room, why, he didn't know. It was just a habit, making sure all ashtrays were cold and electric appliances shut off before he retired for the night. A trait he learned from his mother.

The following Saturday morning McKenna hugged and kissed Mary Wallace on the cheek then seeing his godfather seated in a plush living room chair instead of the wheelchair walked over and shook the old mans hand. “Good morning, Uncle Bob. Good to see you out of the wheelchair”.

“If you think it's good imagine how I feel. For awhile I was beginning to think my ass was growing to the seat. Speaking of feeling good. How much do you weigh?”, asked Wallace.

“A hundred and eighty pounds. Why?”

“Because you're getting fat. Nothing worse then a fat cop. It sends a signal to the public that all you do is sit on your ass doing nothing. Are you exercising?”

“Yep, running, weight lifting, things like that”.

“I hope so. I hate to think that your father and me didn't set an example for you to follow. We exercised all the time”.

“Oh you set an example alright, like don't wear expensive clothes when working. You two never spent more than thirteen dollars for a pair of pants or forty dollars for a suit”.

“And we were right in doing so. Clothes get ripped or torn in all kinds of ways out on the street. If you know what I mean”.

“Yeah, well I've got news for both of you. You can't buy a pair of pants or a suit today at the prices you guys paid back then”.

“Maybe so, but watch your weight. Now, enough of that bullshit even though it's good to see you, I know that you must have something on your mind”, said Wallace.

“I do. I spent last evening going over the Medusa File. There are a couple questions I need answers to”, Kevin replied.

“Such as?”

“In your report where you mention the blood stains and words on the calendar a line has been drawn through those listed things. Why?”

“Because Captain Eppinger was under the opinion that I was full of shit and the things I presented were wrong. Therefore, to teach me a lesson he drew a line through those words in my report with red ink. The son of a bitch treated me like I was a third grade student in elementary school”.

“O.K. that's what I thought. We'll get back to Captain Eppinger later. Now, my next question”.

“Shoot”.

“Why are there no reports or interviews of witnesses or family members of the victims?”

“Once again, I wasn't allowed to do that. Captain Eppinger was responsible for that part of the investigation”.

“Then, what the hell did you do Uncle Bob?”

“Went for coffee, did filing, answered the telephone, things like that”.

“And, that's as far as the homicide investigations went?”

“Yep. What you don't seem to understand is that the Major Crime Squad and I guess you could say the same for the Detective Bureau in general had a lazy ass philosophy. Nautilus Beach, being a summer resort, most of the victims of any crime were from out of town. The general thought was even if an arrest was made victims and witnesses would be difficult to find and testify in court. Therefore, a policy was adopted. Take the victims complaint, assign it to a detective, file it, then close it out after three days. Are you familiar with Wilson's book on Police Administration?”

“Yes sir”

“Than you know that the recommended solvable rate is for a profession police department”.

“Yes I do”.

“Do you know that the Nautilus Beach Detective Bureau solvable rate in 1968 was less than one per cent?”

“It was higher than that when I came on the force”.

“Yeah, thanks to people like your father, Captain Myers, Frank Stiles. These were the police officers who threw off the hands of corruption and corrupt politicians”.

“You didn't include yourself in that group”.

“They did the work, I was just in charge of the investigations”.

“Well you sure as hell weren't like Captain Eppinger”

“Don't bad mouth Captain Eppinger. He made me a reasonably, fair investigator. From him, I learned what not to do”.

“That's all well and good, but let's dwell on the Medusa File”, suggested Mckenna.

“Alright, what do you want from me?”

“Advice. Where do I go from here?”

“I'm not going to bullshit you son. This case is forty seven years old. In all probability any witnesses or relatives of the victims are either dead or have moved away. However, that's where I would start. Try and find those who are still able to talk to you and shed some light on your investigation”.

“I know that much. What I need is that one person that knows what's going down now and what was going down back then”.

Wallace smiled. “You sly bastard, you want my informants, don't you?”

“It would help. Mine are too young to know what happened then or by who”.

“Alright, let me think it over. I don't even know if the bastards still alive. If he is, is he still for sale? Give me a couple of days. I'll call you at home”.

“Thanks Uncle Bob.

“Don't thank me yet. Let's see what happens”.

Three days later at five forty five P.M. Kevin McKenna sat at his kitchen table eating his supper. To avoid having to wash dishes he ate a frozen dinner of Salisbury steak and macaroni and cheese heated in the microwave oven and ate it from it's container. As he did the telephone on the kitchen wall rang. Kevin reached up and removed the receiver placing it next to his ear. “Hello?”, he said.

“Kevin. This is Uncle Bob. In my desk drawer you'll find a key with a plastic tab reading basement locker. On this coming Saturday go down in the basement, unlock the locker. There you will find fishing poles and a tackle box. Take the pole with the spinning reel along with the tackle box. Got it so far?”

“Yes”.

“Good then drive on out to the road that leads to the city sewer pumping station. It sits on a canal. Be there by ten o'clock in the morning. When you get there you'll see an old black man sitting on a camp stool fishing. His name is Henry “Cool Loo” Harris. Ask him what's biting. If he says winter flounders, he's not the guy. If he says “Shit hole flounders that's Cool Loo. Tell him what you need to know. He'll get back to you through me. He'll also tell me how much you owe. O.K.?”

“Yep, what do I use for bait?”

“Just toss your line in the water. You're not there to fish. Your there to set up an informant.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Three

The Devil's Breath

 

A bored Kevin McKenna sat at his desk in the Major Crime Squad Office trying to find something to do. He had arranged then rearranged the items on his desk, moving the electric pencil sharpener, stapler and box of paper clips from the left side of the desk top to the right side of the desk top. He opened and read again and again the reports in the Medusa File in an attempt to see if he had overlooked anything. As far as he knew he hadn't. He got up out of his chair and went to the water fountain, filled a cone-shaped, paper cup and took a swallow. He was about to take another drink when the department mail clerk entered the room. Seeing Kevin the clerk said, “Oh, good, Sergeant McKenna. This is for you”, as he handed the Sergeant a white envelope.

McKenna looked at the face of the envelope and saw that it was inter-office mail, this one coming from the forensic unit. He went back to his desk opened the envelope removed the document and read skipping past the scientific wording. He focused on: “It has been determined that the DNA testing results are that the donor subject was a female”. “Shit! There goes my theory on Dawson being a transvestite”,he thought to himself. He continued reading. “During examination and testing traces of scopolamine were found”.

“Scopolamine? That's some kind of medication. Why in the hell would traces of a medication be found in a shoe? Possibly it was secreted through perspiration. Who knows? Anyway, this throws something else into this case”,he thought.

Kevin got up and walked to the bookshelf. There he removed the “Physicians Desk Reference” and two books on Medications Used In Homicides. Carrying the books back to his desk he began to read. “Scopolamine has a number of uses in medicine, where it is used to treat, Postoperative Nausea, vomiting and seasickness, Motion Sickness, Gastrointestinal spasms, Renal or biliary spasms, aid in gastrointestinal radiology and endoscopy, irritable bowel syndrome, Closzapine, induced salivating(drooling) Bowel colic”.

“So far, nothing stands out”, he thought. Kevin turned his office chair allowing him access to his computer. After going on line and typing in the word, “Scopolamine” he read, “In rare cases, unusual reactions have occurred including confusion, agitation, rambling speech, hallucinations, paranoid behaviors and delusions”. “Still nothing. Who ever the female was that wore that shoe probably had a medical condition”.he thought again.

Still, the fact that the word “scopolamine” had now become ingested in the case he couldn't get the thought of it out of his mind. He opened the other book and although this volume dealt mainly with poisons he was able to find scopolamine. He read: “Scopolamine is tasteless, odorless and at times referred to as the, zombie drug, meaning that while active while the victim is on it very little is remembered of those activities the next day”.“

Kevin removed the receiver from the telephone on his desk dialed Mary Wallace's number and waited for her to answer. The telephone rang six times before she answered, “Hello?”

“Aunt Mary. This is Kevin. Is Uncle Bob available?”

“Yes Kevin. Just a minute”, she replied.

“Hello”, said Robert Wallace.

“Uncle Bob. I received the lab report on the DNA request. It shows the genetic makeup, but the report also states that traces of scopolamine were detected”.

“Wow! What do you know about scopolamine?”

“Not too much. That's why I'm calling you”.

“What the hell do they teach you people in the academy? Never mind. Scopolamine is a dangerous drug, a very dangerous drug. Criminally its used by prostitutes, pimps, bartenders or anyone that wishes to commit a crime resulting in the victim unable to remember what happened to them. Right now and recently its been used as what they call a date rape drug. When used and ingested by the victim they act at the request of the provider. Hookers use it by blowing the drug into the faces of the Johns. When he comes out of it the next day, usually in a hotel room he finds his cash, credit cards and jewelry missing, but has no memory of how it happened. On the street scopolamine is referred to as, “The Devils Breath”, probably because of one of the ways when it is administered by blowing and taken in, by inhaling”.

“Did you have any cases where it was used?”, asked Kevin.

“Once, when I commanded the vice squad, but to tell you the truth scopolamine was suspected, but never proved”.

“How about when you commanded the Major Crime Squad?”

“No, it never came up in any of our cases, until now in the Medusa File”.

“O.K. And, I assume you haven't heard from Cool Loo”.

“Not yet. When I hear something you'll know about it”.

“Thanks Uncle Bob”.

“You're welcome, good by”.

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

Ten days went by and for those ten days Kevin McKenna paced the floor, sat uncomfortable at his desk and thought constantly about not hearing from “Cool Loo” Harris. Impatient, he resisted the urge each day to reach for the telephone and ask Robert Wallace just what was happening with the informant. On the evening of the eleventh day the telephone on the desk in the living room rang. Kevin got up out of his chair and answered it. “Hello?”

“Tell Carol you want a hundred dollars. When you get it bring it to me so I can pay Cool Loo.”

“Did he find anything worthwhile?”

“Certainly. How much the information is of value to your investigation depends on how well you do your job. Cool Loo has found a relative of one of the victims in the rooming house. She's the sister of Sheldon Holmes. Her address is 1313 Madison Avenue. Talk to her. She might have something to say that you can use or maybe not. That's the chance you have to take”.

“I need a name”.

“Margaret Holmes. As far as I know she's a retired cafeteria worker from the school system”.

“How about a telephone number?”

“What hell do you want me to do, drive to her house pick her up and deliver her to you? Get off of your ass and go talk to the woman”.

At ten o'clock the next morning Sergeant McKenna parked the unmarked car in front of 1313 Madison Ave. When he got out of the vehicle he stood and looked an a red brick front two story row house. There was a small front porch with a railing which was missing a few spindles. A dried up potted plant hung from the porch ceiling and dry grass clippings and tree leaves were piled in a corner, placed there by an autumn wind. He walked up to the front door and knocked, then waited. When there was no answer he knocked again. This time he heard a woman's voice say, “Hold your horses! I'm coming”.

When the door opened Kevin gazed upon a short, pudgy woman with graying hair. She was attired in a blue and white house dress and on her feet was a pair of maroon colored bedroom slippers. “Yes? What do you want?”. She asked.

“Are you Margaret Holmes?”, asked Kevin.

“Yes, why do you want to know?”

“I'm Detective Sergeant Kevin Mckenna of the Nautilus Beach police Department. I'd like to ask you a few questions if I may, said Kevin showing his badge and I.D. card..

“About what?”

“About your brother, Sheldon”.

“Sheldon? He's been dead now about almost fifty years.

Fifty years and the police are finally getting around to asking questions about him? What should I say? It's about time? Go away”.

“Miss Holmes I'm sure that deep down you would like to know the circumstances of your brothers death. At the same time I think that you would also like to know if in fact he was murdered. Then, if he was, you would also like to have his killer arrested and justice be rendered.”

Margaret Holmes stood silently looking at Kevin, then opened the front door wider. “Come in. Have a seat on the couch and don't mind the mess. I wasn't expecting company”, she said as she turned and walked into the living room. McKenna followed her after closing the door.

After taking a seat on the sofa McKenna waited for the woman to sit and make herself comfortable in the over stuffed chair across from him. Then he said, “Miss Holmes the police department has always considered the death of your brother to have been a homicide. As such, the case has always remained open until it is solved one way or another. I'm here today to tell you that as an open case I am investigating it. What I need from you is any information you can give me that may shed some light into several questions that need answering. I hope you will co-operate and help me”.

“I'll try, but that was a long time ago”.

“Yes, it was. Let's start with what I found in the file. It was reported that you brother died as a result of using cocaine containing strychnine. What can you tell me about Sheldon's drug use or habit?”

“I can tell you that in a nut shell. Sheldon never used drugs. First of all he was a cab driver. Do you have any idea how much money a cab driver made a week back then? Peanuts. There was no way he could have survived on his salary and used cocaine. I heard that cocaine is the drug of choice for the rich. Is that true”.

“In some circles, yes”.

“Then, there you are”.

“O.K. Next, what do you know about where he lived?”

“Do you mean the rooming house on Albatross Lane?”

“Yes Mam”.

“He moved there after I threw him out”.

“Out of where?”

“Out of here”.

“I see. May I ask why?”

“He and I got into arguing how he was making money”.

“How was he making money?”

“I suspected that he was working for some guy associated with prostitutes. My telephone would ring. It seemed like it rang constantly, particularly if and when a convention was in town. I would answer the telephone and they would either ask for Sheldon or for some woman”.

“A woman? What was her name?”

“I'm sorry that was along time ago. It was the reason we argued and finally I had enough and told him to leave”.

“I see. You said that he might have also been associated with some guy. Do you happen to remember the mans name?”

“No, I'm sorry. I don't.

“Can you think of anything else about your brother that might help me in my investigation?”

“Right now? No.”

Kevin folded the small notebook he had used to write notes and placed it in the inside pocket of his sports coat. He stood and said, “Here is my card Miss Holmes. If you should remember anything that may help me please call me. I would appreciate it.

Right now, thank you for taking the time to talk with me”.

“I will Sergeant. Thank you”.

Back at his desk Kevin typed a report bringing his investigation up to date then filled out a request for one hundred dollars for “Information received from a confidential informant in reference to case # 3706 Michael Winters, victim.”

After knocking on his commanding officers door he looked at Captain Myers who was viewing photographs taken at a jewelry store breaking and entering where over ten thousand dollars worth of gems and watches was taken. Myers looked up and said, “Yes?”

“I have a typed request for one hundred dollars for an informant”, he said.

“Case number?”

“Case number 3706.'

“Really? You have an informant giving you information on a fifty year old murder case?”

“Yes Mam.”

“Tell me about it”.

“As a result of the information I received I was able to trace a relative of one of the victims killed at 1600 Albatross Lane in 1968”.

“And, is it going to lead to something else?”

“Yes Mam, but I might as well warn you any further information is probably going to cost us more”.

“Why?'

“Because, the deeper I dig, the more I'm going to need the informant”.

Captain Myers turned her high back desk chair allowing her to face the small safe that sat on the office floor. She leaned over turned the combination dial several times then open the safe door. Next, she removed exactly one hundred dollars, closed the safe And handed Kevin the money, taking his typed request in return. “This better be worth it”, she said.

“I'm thinking the same”, Captain,” said Kevin as he placed the money in his pocket.

Later, that afternoon Kevin drove his private Chevrolet into the driveway belonging to Mary Wallace. He rang the doorbell and when it was opened he entered the living room where Robert Wallace sat in his wheelchair. After taking the money he asked Kevin, “How did you make out?”

“Good”, Mckenna answered.

“How good?”

“Let's just say I have the first lead in this case in almost fifty years”.

“Can you tell me about it?”

“Certainly, since I'm going to ask you to have Cool Loo find a hooker or hookers that might have been pimped by Sheldon Holmes back in sixty eight”.

“So Holmes was a pimp huh?”

“Possibly, but it figures. He was a cab driver in a convention city and resort. Salary and tips had to be piss poor then and we both know that men and boys coming into town were always on the look for women and were willing to pay for them. Anyway, he and his sister got into heated arguments on what she thought he was doing and she tossed him out”.

“Interesting. Now, I expect you want more information”.

“Certainly and it goes back to the shoe. Right now and if I'm right I'm looking for a woman who in 1968 was a prostitute, used scopolamine and wore a size ten shoe. Now, if Cool Loo can find her it will answer a hell of a lot of questions”.

“And, if he finds her after all this time it will cost you big”.

“No problem. I saw the wad Captain Myers took the money from. The city can afford it”.

“All right, I'll put Cool Loo back to work”.

“He doesn't mind?”

“Mind? Hell, he's loving it. Doing what he use to do is like taking good medicine. He feels alive again”, Wallace answered.

“How do you know?”, asked Mary.

“Because being involved in this case again even just a little bit makes me feel the same way”.

“Well, I better be on my way. I intend to stop and buy a pizza, go home, eat, shower and spend the rest of the evening reading up on scopolamine”, said Kevin.

“For starters begin with the berundanger Tree. That's what it's made from”, said Wallace.

“Never heard of it”, said McKenna.

“It grows in South America. A lot is used in Columbia. As a matter of fact there are many overdoses there every year. The answer is simple. It grows there and those in the under world use it frequently for larceny and rape,” said Wallace.

“Yet they sell it over the counter here”, mentioned Kevin

“But in low doses usually for motion sickness. There are a few things you should know. First, The berundanger tree, and there are other names for the tree that produces a white, trumpet shaped flower. You and I will probably never come in contact with the bloom because as I mentioned in grows in South America, but should you, just smelling the flower is enough to effect you in a way that you are submissive and able to be controlled. Then, later you will have no memory of what took place. Second you should know that one gram of scopolamine is equal to one gram of cocaine. Also look for drugs such as hyoscine or diazepam which are the same thing but with different names. I saw it once in my career. At that time as I remember, it was the ground up bark which at the time appeared a rust color brown. That's about all I have to offer you on the subject right now”.

“Thanks Uncle Bob. At the same time I'll try and find any relatives of Harry Nichols and Norman Peters.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Four

Teeny

 

At nine seventeen on a Friday night McKenna answered a ringing telephone in his living room. “Hello', he said.

“Kevin? Uncle Bob. I just got some more information from Cool Loo. Seems that Norman Peters had a daughter. Right now she's living over in Pleasant Town. Her name is Norma Ferguson and is divorced. According to Cool Loo he's not sure if she has any information that might be of value, but she could. She lives at 888 West Jackson Avenue. She also works as a waitress at a place called Miller's Tea Room. The Tea Room only serves breakfast and lunch from seven in the morning until two in the afternoon and is closed on Sundays. So, it's up to you when and where you want to contact her. Oh, and by the way, Cool Loo said this one's free”.

“Damn nice of him”, Kevin replied.

“Look out for the next one. I know the son of a bitch. He'll try and stick it to us”.

Late on a Saturday morning Kevin Mckenna took a seat at a table in the rear of the restaurant. As he did he looked around the dining room of Miller's Tea Room noticing that all of the tables and chairs had been painted with white, glossy enamel. The walls also white, were decorated with pictures and baskets of artificial flowers. With his back to the corner of the wall he looked up when the waitress came to his table and handed him a menu. “Good morning”, she said. Then looking at her wristwatch said, “Well, it's almost noon, but morning just the same. Welcome to Miller's Tea Room”.

“Thank you. Are you Norma Ferguson?”, he asked.

Taken by surprise by the question the woman stood for a moment looking at the man who had asked it. Then, she spoke. “Yes, why? Who are you?”

“I'm Sergeant Kevin McKenna of the Nautilus Beach Police Department. Right now I'm investigating several homicides. I think your father was one of the victims”.

“Is that right? I was told that my father was a junkie and died as a result of an overdose of cocain”, she responded.

“Do you believe it?”

“Certainly, what else can I believe?”

“Suppose I told you that with the right evidence I might be able to show you that your father was not a narcotic user or addict.”

“And just how do think you can do that?”

“By asking you some questions”.

Norma Ferguson looked around the dining room then said, “Not here. We close at two o'clock. I'll be free at about three. If you know I work here, then you must know where I live. Meet me at the house. We can talk there. Now, are you going to order or leave?”

“Well, since you are co-operative and I'm hungry I think I'll order. What do you suggest?”

“They say we have the best clam chowder for miles around. Start with that and then a sandwich. I suggest the tuna on rye toast”.

“Sounds good. In the meantime could you bring me a cup of coffee?”

“Certainly”, said Norma as she wrote on the order pad.

Later that afternoon McKenna sat in the living room belonging to Norma Ferguson. After lighting a cigarette she leaned back on the sofa, raised her head and exhaled blue/white smoke towards the ceiling. “So, you say you have something to add to my father's death”, she said.

“I do, but first let me ask you a few questions”, said McKenna.

“Go ahead. What can I tell you. I was six years old when he died. But, ask, I might recall something someone told me a long time ago”.

“Fine, let's start with why did your father live at 1600 Albatross Lane instead of with you and your mother?”

“You have to first know that I was raised by my aunt. I hardly knew my mother. Evidently the two of the split some time after I was born. He lived with me and Aunt Edna, his sister. During the summer he worked at the amusement pier. When the season was over he collected unemployment. From what Aunt Edna told me he was a beer drinker and horse player. Now, I know that they say he died using cocain, but my aunt never mentioned him using drugs at any time”.

“I see. We'll get back to the drug thing in a little bit. Right now I would like to know why he lived at the rooming house”.

“I don't know. One day he was there then suddenly he was gone, out of the house. He would stop by once a week usually on a Sunday and give my aunt money, money that was for taking care of me”.

“Did you ever go to the rooming house?”

“No. In fact I was forbidden to go there at any time”.

“Why?”

“My aunt said that it was a disorderly house. At that time I didn't understand what she was talking about. When I got older I realized that the place was a whore house”.

“I see and does your aunt still live at the same place?”

“My aunt dies two years ago”.

“Oh, I'm sorry”.

“That's alright. You said you were going to tell me something about my father not being a narcotic addict”.

“Yes, Actually right now I have information that perhaps your father was given a hypnotic substance that made him inhale a batch of bad cocain”.

“Some one can do that?”

“Yes, I'm afraid so. I also want you to know that it is possible that two other men living there were killed in the same way”.

“But, why? What did my Dad and these other men do to deserve being killed?”

“Miss, right now I don't know. That's what I'm trying to find out. Well, that's all I can tell you at present. I would appreciate it if you should think of or remember anything about your father that might help the investigation. So, thank you for taking time to talk with me”.

“You're welcome Sergeant”.

On the way back home Kevin stopped at Mary Wallace's place. There he sat again in the living room talking to Robert Wallace. “So far, all I've established is the fact that the house on Albatross Lane was used as a house of prostitution”, said Kevin.

“That's more than you had yesterday”. Wallace replied.

“Now what?”, asked Kevin.

“Now we put two and two together. We have a woman's shoe, size ten and the fact that prostitutes visited at that address. Let's see if Cool Loo can give us the answer”.

“Fine, in the meantime I want to see what I can find out about Harry Nichols.”

“I remember his wife lived in a small ground floor apartment in Lighthouse Lane. She might still be there”, said Wallace.

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

Helen Nichols sat next to Sergeant McKenna's desk. She waited while he set up a tape recorder. When he was ready he turned to her and said, “I want to thank you for coming in to see me Mrs. Nichols. As I told you on the telephone I'm investigating several deaths that occurred at the rooming house located on Albatross Lane. I'm sure you're familiar with it”.

“Yes I am, unfortunately”.

“Before I start asking you questions about your husband and him being at that address, what can you tell me about him?”

“What's to tell? He was a hard worker. He worked at Bing's Laundry for years. He started working there during summers when he was in high school. After graduating he was hired full time.”.

“I see. What about his habits?”

“Habits?”

“Yes. For instance was he a smoker, a drinker or maybe a gambler?”

“I wish. He didn't smoke, drink or gamble. Instead, he was a philanderer”.

“Really?”

“Oh yes. The only reason I stayed with him was because of the children. We had two you know”.

“No I didn't. However, if you stayed with him why was he found dead at 1600 Albatross Lane?”

“He would often disappear on weekends. After awhile of being tired of his cheating ways I never asked him where he was going or where he had been. To tell you the truth I wasn't at all surprised when they found him there in a rented room. I can tell you this however, Harry never used drugs. If he was hooked on anything it was sex with women”.

“So, you have no knowledge of his using drugs”, said Kevin.

“This drug thing has cost me Sergeant. After his death I tried to cash in a life insurance policy I had on him. The company refused to pay because his death certificate listed the cause of death as drug related. Two thousand dollars. Two thousand dollars that I could have used to raise my children and they refuse to pay”.

“What company did you have the policy with?”, asked Kevin.

“Dexter and Morgan”, Helen Nichols answered then watched Kevin write down the information.

“That's important Mrs. Nichols. If I can solve this case and prove that you husband was not a drug user, but rather a victim of a homicide I'll try and see if you get your money”.

“Really, that would be nice”.

“Well, unless you can think of anything else I should know I have no further questions”.

“Very well. If I think of anything I'll call you”.

“Thank you for coming in to see me”

After Helen Nichols left Sergeant McKenna typed a report about there meeting and conversation. Just as he was finishing the telephone on his desk rang. He picked up the receiver and said, “Major Crime Squad, Sergeant Mckenna”.

“Kevin, this is Uncle Bob. I want you to know that I contacted Cool Loo again. Right now he should be looking for a hooker with big feet that worked back in the sixties and seventies. If I hear anything I'll be in touch”.

“Good, thank you”, Kevin replied.

“How's it going on you end?”

“Slow. I just finished interviewing Helen Nichols”.

“Anything worthwhile?”

“Other than Harry liked women and didn't use drugs, nothing”.

“Oh well, hang in there. Sooner or later something will break. Talk to you later”.

“Bye”.

Ten days passed then at eleven o'clock on a Wednesday morning Robert Wallace called again. When Mckenna answered the telephone Wallace said, “Tell Carol you want five hundred dollars. She'll raise hell about the price, and after all the bullshit she'll hand you she'll end up giving you the money. Once you have it go to Memorial Park. Take along a bag of peanuts. Place the money in the bag. When you get there you'll see Cool Loo feeding the pigeons. Had him the bag and sit down next to him. After he counts the money and is satisfied he'll give you the information”.

“This James Bond shit is getting old. Why doesn't he just give you the information so you can relay it to me. Then, if I can use it I'll pay?”

“Because he doesn't work that way. His business, his rules. You don't like the game, don't play. Now, do you want what he has or don't you?”

“Do you have any idea what he has?”

“No, but from experience if he's asking for five hundred it has to be mighty good”.

“O.K. But, asking Captain Myers for five hundred dollars and getting it is going to be one hell of a task”.

“Sweet talk her. Remind her of the great job she's doing commanding the unit and how the Chief and Commissioner will appreciate her when you close out these cases.”

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

As he parked the unmarked car at the curb next to Memorial Park, in the distance McKenna saw the elderly black man sitting on a park bench. Kevin got out of the vehicle, locked the door and carrying a paper bag filled with cash and peanuts made his way into the park. When he got to where the old man was sitting he sat down and handed Cool Loo Harris the bag. The man opened the bag reached inside with one hand and slowly counted the bills that he found. Satisfied he took out several peanuts, shelled a few then tossed the nuts on to the ground. Although it was a cold day with gusts of wind coming in off of the ocean soon a small flock of pigeons gathered and began feeding. As they did McKenna waited patiently for the old man to begin speaking, finally he did. “Your Uncle tell me that some time in the future you gone to be a good investigator. That right?”, asked Cool Loo”.

“I thought I was a good investigator already”.

“Yeah? What makes you think so?”

“My record”.

“Hmmmmmn. When your record be as good as Wally's, then you can say you be a good investigator. Right now, what you lookin for is a black whore that went by the name, Teeny. That be right?”

“I'm looking for any female, white or black that hung out or used 1600 Albatross Lane to either sell drugs or turned tricks”, said McKenna.

“That be Altina Woodson. She took her johns to that rooming house. Turned her tricks on the third floor. Kicked back to the house owner, Ed Dawson. They got real friendly. Even went into a kinda partnership, if you know what I mean”.

“No, spell it out for me”.

Altina learned how to use the Devil's Breath. You know what that be?”

“Scopolamine”.

“Yes indeed”.

“They say she'd sit on the john and blow that shit right into his face. No need after that to turn a trick, just fleece him of cash, American Express and Diners Club credit cards, jewelry and anything else he had. Dawson and another guy would get him out of the house and the poor dumb bastard would wake up someplace and didn't remember a thing. Naturally she'd then split the take with Dawson”.

“What about the drug traffic? We know cocain was there at least three times”.

“Might be, but ain't got nothin to do with Altina. Like I say she were a hooker and roller, didn't even smoke pot, from what I been told”.

“I've been looking for a woman that wears a size ten shoe. That shoe has evidence of scopolamine. Does Altina Woodson have big feet?”, asked Kevin.

“Don't think so. Altina were a little bitty girl. Couldn't have weighed more than a hundred, a hundred and ten pounds. Gal that little ain't gone to have that big a feet”.

“If you don't mind I'd like to take a look at her myself”.

“Good luck with that. She be dead now some ten or twelve years. It be said she died from havin syphilis. Now, I'm just guessin, but that gal you be lookin for with the shoe might be Dawson's squeeze. Goes by the last name Rodriquez”.

“Damn.”

“Yep, life's a bitch, ain't it? Well thanks for the peanuts. I got to be goin”, said Cool Loo as he got up off of the park bench.

Kevin sat and watched the old man walk away.

That evening eating spaghetti and meatballs at Mary Wallace's dining room table Kevin Mckenna told his godfather what he had learned from Cool Loo Harris. “Now tell me if that's worth five hundred dollars”, said Kevin.

“Stop bitching like it's your money. At least you know that Altina wasn't the owner of the shoe, so you can eliminate her as wearing it”, Robert Wallace.

“Yeah, but I'll have a hell of a time to get any more money out of Captain Myers”.

“Do you really pay attention to what people say to you, particularly an informant?”, asked Robert.

“Certainly, why?”

“Think back to what Cool Loo told you. He said that Teeny who we now know was Altina Woodson used scopolamine to roll her customers. Right?”

“Yes sir”.

“And then he said that Dawson and another guy would take the john out of the house where when he came out of the effects of the drug, remembered nothing. Is that also right?'

“Yes.”

“Who was the other guy? And, while you think about that pass me the bread”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Five

The Dolphin Motel

 

The last time he checked the temperature was at midnight. Then it was reported to have been thirty nine degrees. Now, at one thirty in the morning, the all night disc jockey on the car radio said that the outdoor temperature was thirty six degrees and falling. Occasionally, a few rain drops fell dotting the windshield of the unmarked police car making it difficult for Mckenna to see the entrance and lobby of the Dolphin Motel. When his visibility was taken away by the rain Kevin turned the key in the ignition which activated the windshield wipers. Then he could see again the flashing, red, neon sign of a jumping dolphin along with the words, “Vacancy”.

Activity in the lobby would only take place if someone entered, requesting a room. If and when that occurred Edward Dawson, or the woman thought to be his wife would come out of the room marked OFFICE and tend to business. However, this was mid December and the seaside resort in winter usually did not draw many people into the city. As a result McKenna sat night after night watching the motel and the actions of Ed Dawson and now began to think that he was wasting his time.

Kevin turned on the windshield wipers again then turned to John Collins in the passenger seat next to him. “While we're waiting for something to happen, brief me on what you have on Michael Winters”, he said.

“Well, since I'm sitting here fighting sleep let me remind you that I don't have his file with me. But, I'll give you what I can remember”, Collins replied.

“Just tell me what you have so far”.

“Let me see. Michael Winters, a Caucasian was born sometime in nineteen eleven. As you know he was fifty seven when he was killed. He was drafted during the Second World War and took basic training at Fort Dix. He was also confined to the guard house at Fort Dix and received either a Bad Conduct Discharge or a Medical Discharge”.

“What do you mean either or when it comes to his discharge?”, asked Kevin.

“It's difficult to say Sarge. Remember I'm getting the info from off of the street. I can say that the reason for either, or was due to the fact that he made homosexual advances to other recruits”.

“Then, he's a homosexual”.

“Not necessarily Sarge. The word is that's how he got himself out of the army and the war”.

“Interesting, what else?”

“It seems that posing as a homosexual had many benefits. During the war he posed as a gay man and evidently had enough good looks that he met men of all ages, but he only went with those who had money. Here, it gets a little shady. Of those I talk with, no one actually knows if he engaged in sex acts, but they do know that on a lot of occasions he blackmailed, or for a better word, extorted large sums of money from wealthy acquaintances. Seems that he would pretend to be seduced and when the seducer undressed or more important touched Winters inappropriately he threatened to go to the police or expose the man”.

“And he got away with it?”

“For awhile. It seems he met up with a young soldier who was stationed in Atlantic City. The kid was from Pittsburgh and came from money. Winters tried to extort the family, but what he didn't know was that the family approved of the kids choice of sexuality. What happened then was that the kids father contacted politicians in Atlantic City and Winters was arrested, tried, and convicted. He did three hundred and sixty four days in the county jail”.

“That it?”

“Right now, but I'm still digging”, Collins replied.

“We know that he worked at the Morton Hotel and that he was next door in Atlantic City during the war. Try and find out when he came into Nautilus Beach and why he stayed.”

“O.K., but I'm thinking the steady job at the hotel had something to do with it”.

“Speaking of the hotel, see if you can make contact with someone that knew him and when I say knew him I mean intimately.”

“When you say intimately just how intimate are you looking for?”

“As intimate as he got.”

“No problem”.

“Good, let's wrap this thing up. It's a shitty night with shitty weather and the only two dumb bastards out in it is us. See you at ten this morning in the office”.

At ten fifteen that same morning Sergeant Kevin Mckenna rubbed the fingers of one hand over a days growth of whiskers. He had over slept. To make up for lost time he showered, but decided not to shave. Still, not use to the growth on his face he felt unclean. He stepped off of the elevator and entered the office of the Major Crime Squad. When he did Detective Cynthia Adams called to him from across the room. “Sarge, Captain Myers wants to see you”, she said.

“Thank you', he answered as he turned and walked towards the Captains office. There he knocked lightly and when he heard the words, “Come In', he opened the door and entered Carol Myers office.

“Ah, Sergeant Mckenna. Have a seat”, she said.

“Something wrong?”, he asked.

“Probably, but I haven't heard about it yet. No, what I want to talk to you about is this cold case, what's it called again?”

“The Medusa File”.

“Oh yes. As I recall this case is what, fifty years old?”

“Forty seven”.

“In those forty seven years it has been an open, but unsolved case. In those forty seven years there is no doubt that any physical evidence is by now deteriorated or aged to the point where it is by now worthless. At the same time any witnesses are either dead or aged to the point where they can't remember facts important to the case. What I'm saying Sergeant is that in my opinion you, make that we, are wasting time and money on an ancient case that will take us no where. I suggest you close it out”.

“I don't mean to be argumentative Captain, but if you recall that what you call deteriorated or aged evidence produced two facts previously unknown, the gender of the wearer of a shoe and the fact that scopolamine was present and might have been used in any of the deaths that occurred at the rooming house on Albatross Lane, something that I think will prove to be very important as this case grows. As for witnesses, I grant you I have no eye witnesses to the exact crimes committed, but I did find those who are helping us to go in the right direction. I anticipate that eventually we will have a break through in this case and will be able to solve it”.

“I've read your reports and I must say I've read them with great interest. Why? Because I want you to succeed, but you are chasing dead people,. People who have been forgotten for some time. Alright, I'll give you more time, but not too much more time unless you can show me that you have something concrete leading to solving this case”.

“Thank you Captain”.

“You're welcome. Would you like some advice?”

“I'm always open to suggestions”.

“Good, try concentrating on the living for a change”.

“Captain the reason I came into this office at this hour is because I was concentrating on the living, Edward Dawson and his wife”.

“Good, it's nice to know that at last we are on the same page”.

“Yes Mam”.
Kevin McKenna walked back into the Major Crime Squad Office. When he did he saw John Collins sitting with his eyes closed. “Something wrong? Are you sick?”, asked Kevin.

“No Sarge, just tired. I didn't sleep to well when I got home”.

“Ah, I'm so sorry that I kept you out late. Well, this will wake you up. I want you to go to the city licensing bureau. Have someone help you look up the records of Edward Dawson having a permit to operate a rooming house. If possible see if you can ascertain anything about his background, such as where did he come from, references, things like that. Got it?”

“Yep”.

“Good, get your ass moving”.

“Sounds like you're in a piss poor mood this morning”.

“I am and not having a hot cup of coffee isn't making it any better.”

“One question”, said Collins.

“What?”

“How far back do you think Dawson applied for a permit?”

“Hard to say, The murder was in 1968. Start at 1959. IF you can't find it there keep going back in time. He had to have a permit and it has to show in the city records”.

“O.K. got it”.

After Collins left McKenna sat and dialed a long distance 800 number. He heard a female voice say, “Dexter and Morgan Casualty and Life. How may I help you?”

“I'd like to be connected to your investigative and security officer please”, Kevin replied.

“May I ask who is calling?”

“You may. I'm Sergeant Kevin Mckenna of the Nautilus Beach Police Department, located in New Jersey”.

“One moment please. I'll put you on hold”.

“For the next four minutes Kevin listened to music piped into his receiver. Finally, a male voice came on the line. “Sergeant, I’m Charles Mooney Chief Investigator for Dexter and Morgan. How can I help you”.

“Mr. Mooney at present I'm investigating a homicide and the investigation might reveal other questionable deaths that happened around the same time. The reason I'm calling you is to let you know that the widow of one of the victims told me that your company refused to pay on a policy she had on her husband”.

“And she went to the police hoping to collect?”, asked Mooney.

“No. Her problem came up during the investigation. According to her Dexter and Morgan refused payment because the death certificate stated that her husband died as a result of a overdose of cocain”.

“That's understandable. The subject of illicit drugs is written in the contract”.

“I understand. However, my question to you is if the insured was murdered with a dose of cocain containing strychnine would that then result in your company reconsidering payment to the policy holder?”

“Possibly Sergeant. Actually from what you have told me it might be a matter for our legal officers to examine and decide. Right now I need the name of the insured, the name of the policy holder and the policy number”.

“The name that should be on the policy is Harry Nichols. I will have Mrs. Nichols contact you with the rest of the information if that's alright with you”.

“Excellent. When she calls I'll look into the matter. Is there anything else you need at the moment?”

“No Mr. Mooney thank you for help”.

“Your welcome. Good day”.

McKenna then called Helen Nichols. When there was no answer he left a message on her answering machine.

He then turned in his chair and using his computer went on line and typed in the word, Scopolamine. He was becoming obsessed with wanting to know about this drug. In particular he wanted to know its criminal use. Most of the information he could gather related to criminal types in Columbia using it on tourists. After that, not too much more was offered. He did learn that scopolamine can be detected in the human hair after it is either administered or ingested. Other than that fact the only thing that was of importance to him was that the drug is active in low dosages. “Not too much here to go on”,he thought to himself.

As he sat deep in thought Detective Cynthia Adams walked up to his desk then sat down in the chair next to it. “How did you make out with the Captain?”, she asked.

Kevin looked at the small, blond woman attired in the required blue blazer, the same as the men wore. The difference was that male plainclothes officers wore gray, black or dark blue trousers and the females wore either skirts or slacks of the same colors. “Fine", he answered.

“I've been watching you. In the past three days you looked like something is bothering you. If there is can I help in some way?”, she asked,

“If anything is bothering me it's this case”.

“What in particular?”

“Originally this case began as a homicide, the result of a stabbing. Then, three drug overdose deaths were found to have happened at the same address as the stabbing. The three drug deaths were the result of snorting cocain and strychnine. Naturally the stabbing was done with a knife. What bothers me is that residue of scopolamine was found in a shoe. It doesn't figure. At least not to me right now”.

“ Did you ever consider that the woman who wore the shoe might have had some type of medical condition?”, asked Adams.

“Certainly, in fact every type of illness that would render a legitimate use of the drug including morning sickness”.

Their conversation was interrupted when Detective John Collins walked into the office. McKenna looked at Collins and said, “Well, how did you make out?”

“Fine, Edward Dawson applied for and was granted a permit to operate a rooming house at 1600 Albatross Lane on Friday, January 15, 1960. He also filed for and was granted a permit to operate the Dolphin Motel on Tuesday, March 24, 1970, which as we know he still operates today”, Collins reported.

“Right. What about his background?”

“It seems that he is from Boston originally”.

“That it?”

“So far”.

“Alright, send off a background check on Edward Dawson to the Boston Police department. Let's see if they have anything on him. Right now Dawson is a Caucasian Male, reported to be approximately eighty years old, married, no children. Add that information to your request. It might be beneficial”. Turning to Detective Adams he said, “I want you to do the same, do a background investigation on Mrs. Dawson, start with the Bureau of Vital Statistics. Take a look at the marriage license if there is one here in Nautilus Beach”.

“And if there isn't?”, asked Adams.

“Then start elsewhere. Right now all I know, make that what I think I know about Mrs. Dawson is that her maiden name was Rodriquez.”

“ I'll start right now Sarge”, sad Adams.

“Good while you're doing that, I'll dig a little deeper into the life and times of Michael Winters. However, I want to talk to Margaret Holmes and Norma Ferguson”.

That evening, after dinner McKenna reached for the telephone on the kitchen wall and then dialed the number for Margaret Holmes. When she answered she was surprised to hear from McKenna. “I didn't expect to hear from you again Sergeant”, she said.

“Sorry to bother you, but I have one question to ask you”, Kevin said.

“Yes?”

“Did your bother have a life insurance policy?”

“Not that I know of. I know I didn't have one on him. To tell you the truth he probably never even thought of having one. He was the type that lived for today and the heck with tomorrow. Why are you asking?”

“The matter of life insurance has come up in my investigation so I thought I's check with you and Norma Ferguson”.

“I see, but as I said, I have no knowledge of a life insurance policy on Sheldon”.

“Thank you Miss Holmes”.

“You're welcome. Good by”.

Later, after talking with Norma Ferguson Kevin got the same results. If there was a life insurance policy for NormanPeters, his daughter had no knowledge of it”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Six

Telephone Calls

 

It was an unusually warm winter day, one of those kind of days when the people of Nautilus Beach tired of being shut-in because of the weather escaped confinement and wandered outside. On this day although wrapped in overcoats, hats and scarfs they walked the boardwalk. Others sat on the benches in the pavilions soaking in the sun. Boardwalk merchants who operated all through the year enjoyed sales, not brisk, but worth being open for business. In particular the hot dog vendors began heating their grills and made coffee and hot chocolate hoping that the aroma of hot dogs, hamburgers and french fried potatoes carried on the air would draw customers to their stands.

Sergeant Kevin Mckenna stood looking out at the ocean in the distance. From the large sealed windows of his office he could see seagulls riding currents of air, some appeared to be hanging motionless while others would occasionally flap their wings to regain their balance and maintain their position as they stayed stationary looking for their next meal. Kevin turned from the window at the sound of the ringing telephone on his desk. Picking up the receiver he said, “Major Crime Squad, Sergeant McKenna”.

“Good morning Sergeant. Charles Mooney here. How are you?”

“Fine Mr. Mooney”

“I'm calling to let you know that since our last conversation a few things have happened”, said Mooney.

“Such as?”

“Such as I spoke to our legal team and our lawyers seem to be somewhat ambiguous when it comes to your question about whether or not we would be obligated to pay should you produce evidence that the policy holder was a victim of homicide. Be that as it may, I personally feel that our company should pay under the circumstances you have presented. So, I want you to know that is my position on the matter. However, at the same time that you made your inquiry I have been told that someone other than yourself has requested not only information, but payment on the policy carried on Harry Nichols. Does the name Delores Rodriguez mean anything to you?”

“Not at the moment".

“How about a Edward Dawson?”

“I am familiar with the name Edward Dawson. Let me ask you something. How are they connected to the insurance policy your company has on Harry Nichols?”

“Edward Dawson is listed as the beneficiary”.

“I see. Interesting. Very interesting. What about Rodriquez?”

“I assume that she called on the behalf of Mr. Dawson”.

“ Strange”.

“If you say so. In the meantime should you have evidence that Mr. Nichols was in fact a victim of a homicide please contact me. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Yes, what is the face value of the insurance policy on Mr. Nichols?”

“Ten thousand dollars”.

“I see. Thank you”.

“You're welcome. Good by”.

McKenna sat down at his desk and wrote down the information he had just received. Right now the only thing of importance was the fact that Ed Dawson had taken out a life insurance policy on Harry Nichols.”Now, the question is did Dawson do the same thing with Peters and Holmes? If he did the policies had to be with other insurance companies, because Mooney made no mention of any one asking about the two men”, McKenna thought to himself.

Kevin looked up to see John Collins. “Did you hear anything from Boston?”, he asked

“Oh yeah. Dawson has a clean record up there. Their report says that they have no record of an Edward Dawson. What do you want me to do now?”, said Collins.

“Run his name through N.C. I. C. (National Crime Information Center)”

“Got it. No problem”.

At two, twenty seven in the afternoon Sergeant McKenna was told that he was wanted on the telephone. He left the filing cabinet where he had been looking for some information, walked to his desk, saw the blinking light on line two. He lifted the receiver and said, “Sergeant McKenna”.

“Sergeant? The word on the street be that you payin big money for information for them deaths that happened years back at the place on Albatross Lane. That right?”

McKenna didn't recognize the woman's voice so decided not to volunteer any information. Instead he said, “Who told you that?”

“Word be that Cool Loo Harris is supplying you with stories, stories about a woman named Altina Woodson. Ain't that right?”

“If it is what do you know about her?”

“More than that old fool Cool Loo. Me and Teeny worked the streets together. Then she got uppity, if you know what I mean”.

“No, I'm afraid that I don't”

“Let's just say she left the streets and did better than the rest of us”.

“How?”

“Oh no darlin. That bit of news goin to cost you. Tell you what. I'll give you a couple of days to chew on what I've told you. Then, I'll call you again to see if you be as smart as I think you be. Bye baby”.

Mckenna hung up the telephone then sat thinking. After about five minutes he reach for the phone again and dialed Mary Wallace's number. It rang three times then a man's voice came on the line. “Hello', he said.

“Uncle Bob?”

“Yeah. You want me or Mary?”, asked Robert Wallace.

“You, but where's Aunt Mary?”

“Grocery shopping. We've got to eat you know”.

“Well it's you I want to talk with”.

“About what?”

“Don't most police informants hide the fact that their dealing information for pay?”

“Certainly”.

“Well I just got a telephone call about five minutes ago from a woman who says that Cool Loo is selling information. Big money, she said”.

“Really? The old bastard must be going soft in the head. Who is this woman?”

“I don't know. She said that her and Teeny Woodson worked the streets together until Teeny got, she used the word, uppity”.

“Interesting”.

“Yeah”.

“What else did she say?”

“To be brief, she wants to get paid for information about Teeny”.

“Do you want or need more information about her?”

“Well, I still haven't made a connection between Teeny and Dawson”.

“Then I suggest you meet with whoever this caller is, but don't pay too much for the first bit of information. You do that she'll think you are an easy mark. When are you going to meet her?”

“She's cagey. She told me to think over what she had told me, “Chew on it”, she said.

“She sounds like a street wise hooker. If and when she calls back play as if you're not too interested. That should do two things, make her anxious to do business and to lower her price whatever it might be. You should be able to determine if she's got legitimate information or bullshit. Let me know how you make out”.

“Thanks Uncle Bob. Later”.

Ten days passed And at ten fifteen on a Friday morning Mckenna received a second call from the unidentified woman.

“Sergeant? You think over what I say?”

“About what?”, asked Kevin.

“Now don't go playin games with me. What I got, you not only want, but need”.

“Maybe yes. Maybe no. What you got to tell me only moves things along a bit. In all probability I'll get all the information I need sooner or later in other ways and for that matter from someone else”.

“If you talkin bout Cool Loo he don't no shit from Shinola when it comes to Teeny”.

“If I was interested in what you have to say, how much will it cost me?”

“Five hundred”.

“No way”.

“What you mean no way? What I got is good, might even say it be gospel”.

“That good huh?”

“Better believe it

“Tell you what. We meet. You Talk. I listen. If I think what you have to say is good, I'll go two hundred”.

“Two hundred? No way”.

“O.K. thanks for calling”.

“Wait a minute! Wait a minute! How bout you think about raisin the fee after you hear what I got to say?”

“Maybe, I can't promise that”.

“Then I think we should meet”.

“Where and when?”, asked Kevin.

“Sunday, ten fifteen in the morning. You know where Ebeneezer Baptist Church is?”

“Yes”.

“There be a 2011 white Cadillac parked near an old oak tree in the parking lot. Be a dark skin man behind the wheel. You come to the car. Open the back door. I be in the back seat. We talk then”.

“Sounds good. Why the church yard?

“Plenty of parked cars and all the good people be inside. Bye.

And don't forget the money”.

 

On Sunday morning Sergeant McKenna drove on to the church parking lot. He stopped, looked around and in the distance heard the sounds of someone playing a piano and a multitude of voices singing. On the far side of the lot he saw the oak tree and he headed for it. Pulling up beside the Cadillac he saw a Black man wearing sunglasses seated behind the steering wheel. Kevin shut off the motor, opened the car door, got out, closed the door then quickly opened the back door of the white car.

Once inside he sat next to a light skin Black woman he judged to be about sixty five years old. She was well dressed with a latest hair style and was slightly overweight, but still attractive. Since it was winter she wore a mink coat, even though fur coats were not in fashion or popular. He looked at her and said, “Before I do business I like to know who I'm dealing with”.

“I understand that. They call me Twana so you can do the same”.

“Last name?”

“Davis”

“Fair enough. Now, what have you got to tell me about Altina Woodson?”

“Like I told you. Altina and me worked the streets together.

About six months of selling our ass in the backseats of cars, hallways and alley ways she come to me one day and say, we got a place where we can turn tricks”.

“I asked where?”

“She say a roomin house over on Albatross Lane.”

“I remember askin, Ain't that place legit?”

“She say, Yes, but we can use the third floor”.

“Then I say, How much this gone to cost us?”

“She say, We get forty for turning the trick, we give the owner ten.”.

“I say, no way. Things bad enough out here. I need all the money I can make for myself. Ain't goin to give it to somebody just to get out of the cold”.

“Then what?”, asked Kevin.

“So we parted ways. I run into her about eight months later and we gets to talkin. She say she has a new gimmick. Seems she takes a john to the roomin house. Someone either gives the john something or he takes somethin. That I ain't sure of. You got to remember that were forty some years ago. Anyway Teeny say that she don't even have to go to bed with the dudes. She takes what she wants and someone moves the john out of the house”.

“So she rolled her customers”, said McKenna.

“Yes indeed”.

“And she was never arrested?”

“Not only never arrested. The bitch never had a complaint filed against her”.

“O.K. Now, you mention the rooming house on Albatross Lane. Who was the owner and operator at the time?”, asked Kevin.

“White dude and his wife. Man called Ed Dawson”.

“What can you tell me about them?”

“I can tell you this much. The only time I saw him he looked me over like he wanted me in the sack and his wife were standing right next to him”.

“Really?”

“Don't let what you see now think that I looked like this back then. I turned many a head”.

“And tricks”, said the man behind the wheel”.

“You shut your mouth fool. Ain't nothin I saying got anythin to do with you,” said Twana

“Let's get back to Ed Dawson and his wife. What can you tell me about her?”, asked Mckenna.

“Puerto Rican gal. She say she from somewhere outside San Juan, then into New York City then down to here. Funny thing though. I been to San Juan. Had me a john who treated me right. Flew me down there to spend a week with him. Anyway, I asked her bout the Americana Hotel and Casino. She never heard of it. Hell, I played the slots there. Truth be it went under. It was skimmed from the inside. Oh well that's another story. Anyway, she's a big woman, especially for a Latino”.

“What do you call big?”

“She's probably five foot eight or ten. At that time might have weighed a hundred and sixty or seventy pounds”.

“Really?

“Yes. I couldn't really understand what Dawson saw in her, but as they say, to each their own”.

“Anything else?”

“Ain't that enough?”

“Not for two hundred bucks. You haven't mentioned the deaths that occurred in the rooming house”.

“I've got the goods baby. Just goin to take some time. Sides, We just feelin each other out. Ain't that right?”

“Yeah, but what you've told me isn't worth two hundred.”

“Then how much you think it's worth?”

“A hundred for what you just told me. Another fifty, for let's call it a retainer fee”.

“What do you mean, retainer?”

“You want more in the future, you work for me”.

“Let me tell you something Sergeant I use to get screwed for forty dollars. Now, you just screwed me for a hundred. But, yeah, I'll take your so called retainer fee. Other fees will be negotiable. Understand? And the next time I'll be able to tell you bout who got killed and why”.

“Why not now?”

“I got to talk to someone else. This someone don't want to get involved, but they givin me the true story about what went on in that there rooming house. Won't be long now”.

“No problem Twana. How do I get in touch with you?”

“Here's my number. Don't call until after noon”.

“By the way, are you still turning tricks?”, asked Kevin.

“Maybe yes. Maybe no. A girls got to eat you know”.

 

On Monday morning Kevin Mckenna typed his report along with the request for reimbursement for one hundred dollars. Surprisingly after Captain Myers read the report she also handed him the money. To him things were beginning to open up. By putting together what he already knew and adding it with what Twana had told him he now had a good idea of one of the things that was going on at 1600 Albatross Lane forty seven years ago.

Altina Woodson in a partnership with Ed Dawson took guys looking for sexual favors to the rooming house. Once there they were exposed to scopolamine. Under the influence of the drug they were rolled, waking up somewhere in or outside of Nautilus Beach and unable to remember anything that happened to them.

From the description that Twana had given him about Dawson's wife it was possible that the shoe containing the scoploamine residue belonged to her. However, right now why was a Delores Rodriquez asking about a life insurance policy on Harry Nichols?” Kevin reached for his wallet, opened it and placed the hundred he received from the Captain.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Seven

N.C.I.C.

 

As the days and weeks went by McKenna became frustrated. To him the answers he wanted from different agencies were not coming at all or at best very slowly. He sat and stared at an open file containing reports that were dated weeks back revealing the lack of progress in the case. At the same time he knew that the time and money spent on a cold case nearly fifty years old without results was ground for Captain Myers to halt the investigation. Yet, something told him, something deep inside made him feel that he was close, close to gaining more evidence and information and then be able to solve and close the case. Right now, he needed something, anything that would move his investigation forward. Cool Loo had remained quiet and Twana hadn't called.

At nine thirty five on a Tuesday morning Kevin sat drinking coffee out of a Styrofoam cup when the mail clerk walked up to his desk and handed him a business size, white envelope. McKenna glanced at it and noticed the F.B.I. address in Washington, D.C. He opened it and saw that it was the N.C.I.C. response for the research of Edward Dawson. He read the long lists of Edward Dawson's that had been taken out of the National Crime Information Center's computers. There were Edward Dawson's from different parts of the country, but none from or near Boston, Massachusetts. He did notice one entry. An Edwina Dawson arrested in Brookfield, Massachusetts, October 14, 1959, charge Grand Larceny, Over five Hundred Dollars. Disposition, Found Guilty, Sentence, Eighteen Months to be served at Baylor Correctional Institution. In disgust he tossed the report on to his desk top.

Cynthia Adams looked up from the papers she was working on, “Something wrong Sarge?”, she asked.

“Same old thing. You look for a breakthrough and you hit a stone wall”.

“Well, sometimes you can either break down the wall or climb over it”, Adams replied.

“Just what I need, a philosopher. By the way what have you got on the Rodriquez woman?”

“Actually, something a bit strange.. Mrs. Dawson aka Delores Rodriquez lists her birth date as April 8, 1936 in Vega Alta, Puerto Rico. I checked down there and the report I have is that Delores Rodriquez, born on that date also died June 17, 1938”.

“So the kid died when she was two years old”.

“Correct

“Are you under the opinion that Mrs. Dawson has been living under a stolen identity?”

“Isn't it possible?”, asked Adams.

“Certainly, but why?”

“I don't know yet Sergeant, but I'm still digging”.

John Collins walked into the office. Seeing McKenna and Adams in conversation he asked, “What are you two talking about?”

“Cynthia found that Mrs. Dawson, who we are under the opinion was one Delores Rodriquez might be an imposter using someone else's name”, said Kevin.

“Wow! That's a kick in the ass”, Collins replied.

“You think so? Read the report we just got from N.C.I.C. The Edward Dawson we're investigating doesn’t exist, according to them. That my friend is what you call a kick in the ass”.

Collins picked up the report that Kevin pointed to then read it. When he was finished he said, “So they're suggesting that the Edward Dawson that owns the Dolphin Motel here in town is or could be Edwina Dawson, a woman?”

“That's the way I interpret the report”, McKenna replied.

“They're nuts. Ed Dawson is nearly eighty years old, bald as a cue ball, and has a white beard”, said Collins.

“Well the next time you're in Washington, stop in and tell them that”, Kevin replied.

“So, what do we do next Sergeant?”, asked Cynthia Adams.

“We keep digging, investigating, listening to those who will talk to us. I've got the feeling, even though I'll admit to being frustrated, the feeling that sooner or later we'll break this case”.

That evening Kevin McKenna sat watching the six o'clock evening news on television. As usual the broadcast started off with the political situation in Washington, followed by the political situation in New Jersey which led into crime in the state and crime in the city. In between there were the same boring commercials and once in a while the mention of American's fighting somewhere in the world. His attention to the television was interrupted when the telephone on his living room desk rang. He got up out of his chair and answered, “Hello?”

“Kevin? Uncle Bob. Where the hell have you been? I haven't heard from you in days. What have you been up to?”

“I've been up to my arm pits in bullshit supplied by the Federal government. That's where I've been”.

“Yeah? How come?”

“Well, first of all the N.C. I. C. report I got back more or less informs me that Edward Dawson, your number suspect and the one I'm interested in doesn’t exist. The report mentions an Edwina Dawson. If that's not bad enough. His wife Delores, isn't really alive. Pureto Rican authorities report her as having died in 1938.”

“I see. So what's your problem?”

“My problem is I look at an old, bald, bearded man everyday named Edward Dawson. At the same time I see his wife. Yet, those I turn to for positive information tell me that I'm full of shit and that the people I mention don't exist”.

“Calm down. In the bottom drawer of my desk there should be a black, leather, folder containing business cards of contacts I made over the years. I want you to bring me that folder”.

“O.K. when?”

“How about this weekend? Saturday is good for us. Come for lunch”.

“That sounds good”.

See you then”.

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

On Saturday afternoon Kevin sat in the living room of his godmothers home. Robert Wallace sat in his wheelchair looking through the many business cards in the black, leather folder. “While I look for what I want I'm under the opinion that you disagree with the N.C.I.C. report”, said Wallace.

“ Absolutely. I want background on Edward Dawson, not some woman called Edwina which according to the F.B.I. is the Dawson owning and operating the Dolphin Motel”.

“Or so you assume”, said Wallace.

“What do you mean?”, asked Kevin.

“You're assuming that you are right. That the report is wrong and the proof ,in your opinion is the fact that Edward Dawson is an old man operating a business in your town. On top of that, you assume that you're right because you see his wife alive and kicking. Therefore in your mind everyone else is full of shit, except you”.

“Not quite, but close”, Kevin replied.

“Let ask you something. What do you know about the Civil War?”

“Other than the North and South fought and the North won, not too much. Oh yeah and Lincoln was assassinated”.

“Just as I suspected. What the hell did you study in high school?”

“Girls, mostly”.

“That figures. Alright, then it's a safe bet that you never heard of Albert J. Cashier”.

“And you'd be right”.

“Albert J. Cashier was a woman who lived her life as a man. So much so that she enlisted in the army and fought in many battles, in particular, Vicksburg. When she became elderly she became a resident of the Old Soldiers Home in Quincy, Illinois. She died there. When she died a doctor discovered that Albert was really a female named Jennie Hodgers”.

“So what are you trying to tell me?”

“History contains evidence that probably four hundred women posing as men fought in that war. Transsexuals just didn't happen in the twentieth century son. The life style goes way back. What I'm trying to tell you is that it is very possible that your, make that our, Edward Dawson might be a female”.

“No way. I don't believe it'.

“I'll say one thing, you're as hard headed as your father. Ah, here's what I was looking for”, said Wallace removing a white, business card from the folder. “This is the card of Doctor Milton Lippman. He's a medical doctor, but is also what some call an expert geneticist. I suggest you talk to him. If and when you do keep an open mind and listen to what he has to say”.

Kevin took the card then looked at Wallace. “I have to go to Philly?”

“I hope you don't expect him to come to you”.

“I'll think about it”.

“You do that. Now, what about your informants?”

“I haven't heard from Cool Loo and nothing new from my source”.

“I'll get on Cool Loo's ass and try to get him moving. I suggest you do the same with your informant”.

“O.K. that shouldn't be a problem.”

“Good, now let's talk about Mrs. Dawson”, suggestedWallace.

“What about her?”

“You say she's alive. Puerto Rican authorities say that she's dead”.

“Correct and at the same time keep in mind just how many Rodriquez's are alive in this world”.

“Right, but each one has different fingerprints and unless they're all related, different DNA”.

“Both of which are damn near impossible to get”.

“Not really. I want you to deal with Benson the florist. He will keep his mouth shut just in case the Dawson's ask questions”.

“A florist?”

“Yeah, have Harry Benson send a twenty five dollar bouquet to a Mrs. Dawson. Have the card read, “From a very satisfied customer”. The flowers are delivered. Hopefully, Delores reads the card and is inquisitive but pleased.”

“And just how do I do that?”

“Do you have someone you can trust to do as he or she are told?”

“Yes, why?”

“Have one of your people pose as the delivery person from the flower shop. They deliver the flowers to Mrs. Dawson and only Mrs. Dawson. She's handed the receipt pad to sign. When she holds the pad she leaves her prints on it. Then let forensics do the rest”.

 

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

At eight o'clock on a Friday evening Sergeant McKenna sat at a small table in the cocktail lounge of Resorts Hotel and Casino. Sitting across from him was Doctor Milton Lippman. “Doctor, I want to thank you for taking time to see me”, said McKenna.

“It's really no problem, especially since I was coming to Atlantic City to play cards. Now, according to our brief conversation on the telephone you for some reason are interested in genetics. Is that right?”, asked the doctor.

“Yes sir. I'm investigating several homicides where the killer I assume is male, yet others are pointing to the fact that the suspect could be a female. My purpose of meeting with you is to first understand how a woman can change her appearance from a woman to a man and second is this a normal or abnormal act?”

“When you say normal let me point out that normal is what the subject wishes to be. A man or woman who in their mind desires to be a gender other than the one they were born as sees that living normal can only be accomplished by changing their life style and most important they're appearance. Now, some do this by cross dressing. Others do it by surgery but I would say that most hopeful transsexuals use hormones”.

“ And just how would that work?”, asked Kevin.

“Well, since I assume you're interested in a female changing into a male the easiest and best choice is taking the hormone, testosterone”.

“Why? What happens?”

“When a female takes or uses testosterone it lowers or changes the voice. Hair begins to grow on the thighs, abdomen, chest, back and arms. Facial hair begins to grow, how much depends on the body and inherited traits. There can also be hair loss, sometimes complete baldness. The Adam's Apple and bones in the face thicken creating a masculine appearance. The female clitoris enlarges and the skin becomes coarser.”

“Really. Anything else?”

“ There is a decrease of fat in the breasts, buttocks and thighs but an increase of fat in the abdomen. In addition more red blood cells are created in the blood. By utilizing exercise, muscle mass increases and there is an increased sex drive. There is a weight gain and the menstrual periods end. It doesn’t work over night”.

“How long does it take for what would be a complete change?”

“Probably several months to become noticeable and up to five years to be complete”.

“And then the female becomes a male?”

“Hormones only change the appearance of the man or woman or a real transsexual. Actually it's what's inside the mind that has the most effect. From what little you have told me, your subject, if is indeed a female who used hormones, and let me say I strongly believe that she did and became male, her mental condition had much to do with her successful change”.

“When you say mental condition what about lesbian traits?”

“Well, I would say that those thoughts and ideas probably had much to do with the desire to change from female to male. I've seen the same thing happen with males taking estrogen”.

“My suspect also has a wife”.

“I see. I would say that the union between them probably happened when they met or soon after."

"They've been together for a long time".

"That's not surprising. These type of spousal relationships are as normal as any heterosexual marriage. do you have any other questions Sergeant?"

"No, I think that just about does it. I want to thank you again for seeing me on a short notice".

"No problem. Now, I'll first finish my drink and then head for the tables. I'll try my luck at baccarat. Good day Sergeant".

"Good by Doctor".

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

At eleven thirty the following Monday morning Cynthia Adams drove the Benson Florist truck into the driveway of the Dolphin Motel. Edward Dawson stood behind the desk reading the morning newspaper. He looked up, surprised to see the attractive young woman entering carrying a white basket containing an assortment of different kinds and colors of flowers. “What's this?”, asked Dawson.

“I have a bouquet to be given to a Mrs. Dawson. Is she here?”

“No, but I'll take them”, said Dawson.

“I'm sorry, but Mrs. Dawson has to sign for them before they can be officially delivered to the right person. I hope you understand”, said Adams.

“Oh, very well. Delores? Delores? Come here”, Dawson yelled.

Cynthia Adams watched as an overweight, olive skin woman about seventy years old entered the office from a side door. “What do you want? I'm getting ready to change the linen in room five”, said the woman.

“Someone sent you flowers”, said Dawson.

“Who?”

“How the hell do I know. Read the card”, Dawson said.

Delores removed the card from the flowers that Adams still held in her hands and read it. “It says, From a very satisfied customer”, she said.

“Damn nice to know someone was satisfied with their stay here with us. No name huh?” asked Dawson.

“No”.

“Excuse me, but I have other deliveries to make. I need you to sign this slip proving that delivery was made and to you”, said Adams handing the smooth, shiny, stainless steel pad holder to the woman. Delores Dawson took the open pad holder in her left hand and held it as she wrote her name with the right hand. “There you are. Aren't these just beautiful”, said Delores.

“Yes they are. Have a nice day”, said Cynthia as she left the office.

“It went fine Uncle Bob. We got Delores Damson’s prints from her left hand all except the thumb but enough for a match, providing the F.B.I doesn’t tell me that the prints we have belong to an alien from Mars”, said Kevin.

“How did your meeting go with Doctor Lippmann?”, asked Wallace.

“Fine. He explained everything to me, but at the same time I don't see Ed Dawson as a transsexual male. But, I won't make waves. Right now I'm more interested in seeing if Delores Rodriquez is real or imaginary, alive or a walking dead and if so did she come back that way from Puerto Rico”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Eight

Twana

 

At home Kevin McKenna placed the clean clothes that had been left on the bed in the chest of drawers. His wash was done by his housekeeper, Cordelia Jenkins, as was most of the cleaning in the condominium. He was just about finished when the telephone rang. “Hello”, he said when he answered the ring.

“Would you tell me just what the hell is going on?”, asked Wallace.

“What are you talking about?”, asked Kevin.

“Someone burned Cool Loo's ass. They put the word out that he is and has been a snitch for the police. Now, it seems some of the brothers in the hood are after him. Right now he's probably half way to Philadelphia. He has a sister who lives there”.

“What's that got to do with me?

“It seems that some old broad named Twana Davis exposed him and not accidentally either. She did it on purpose. So my question to you is, does she work for you?”

“Yes. She's the one who told me about Teeny using the rooming house and easily rolling guys by using scopolamine”.

“That's all well and good, but at the same time she exposed Cool Loo in order to take over as the number one informant in town. Let me give you some advice. Never let an informant control you. You control the informant. Do you understand?”

“No one is controlling me”.

“Yeah? What has she given you lately?”

“Nothing”.

“Exactly, probably because she was too busy burning Cool Loo”.

“Who told you that she exposed Cool Loo?”

“Cool Loo! How's that for an answer”.

“Regardless, right now Twana is all I've got out there”.

“Well, whatever she gives you in the future better be damn good”.

“I agree. When I have something worthwhile from her I'll let you know”.

After Wallace hung up McKenna looked at the clock seeing that it was twelve forty five in the afternoon he dialed Twana Davis telephone. It rang three times and then he heard a faint, “Hello?”

Recognizing her voice, Kevin said, “Hey! It's past noon so you should be up and out of bed. Either you're still half asleep or still high on the shit. Which is it?”

“I ain't no junkie. I was up late, that's all. Now that you got me up, what's on your mind?”

“I just got word that you burned Cool Loo. Tell me that I'm wrong”.

“Whoever told you be right. Let's just say I got even. I recently found out that he was the one that gave me up to the vice squad back in the seventies. Now he know what it feels like to be unwrapped. Besides Cool Loo, what else you got on your mind?”

“You tell me. You're the one that contacted me. At that time you came on as knowing everything going down in the town. You also let on that you knew what happened in the past. So, what have you got besides what I already know?”

“Take it easy baby. Take it easy. Let me say this. I got me a girl workin for me. Come to find out her Mama use to be the cleanin woman at the roomin house on Albatross Lane. If that be true then I'll meet with that woman and see what she got to say. You know what I'm sayin?”

“And, just how soon are you going to make this meeting?”,asked McKenna?”

“Just as soon as I can”.

“When you've got something, call me”.

“I will darlin. I will”.

Eight days later Mckenna got a call from Twana. “Just want you to know I got sometin you want. Also want you to know it goin to cost more than a hundred”. She said.

“And I'm going to remind you that I'm the one that decides how much it is worth. But, suppose you give me the price you have in mind”, McKenna replied.

“Five hundred, and that be a bargin”

“When and where?”

“Tomorrow. You know my car. Same dark skin dude be drivin. We'll be parked in the ShopRite parkin lot. Like before. You pull up beside, meet me and we talk in the backseat”.

“Wonderful. What time?”

“What's good for you darlin?”

“Any time, but I know you don't move until afternoon. Let's make it two thirty”.

“Sounds good baby and don't forget the money”, said Twana as she hung up the receiver.

Sergeant McKenna circled the parking lot two times before he saw and recognized the white Cadillac parked in among a row of automobiles far from the store front entrance. He noticed the empty parking place next to Twana's vehicle and he pulled into the spot. As he got out of the unmarked Ford sedan he saw the familiar face of the driver, then unable to see into the rear of the car because of the tinted windows he opened the rear door and slid in next to Twana Davis. “So, we meet again”, he said.

“Good to see you again darlin. Now, I know you be busy and I be busy so let's get down to business and right to the point”, she said.

“Fine with me. Let me hear what you've got”.

“Like I say. I got me a gal who's Mama cleaned the roomin house. She use to start work at seven in the morning. Couple of times she get there in time to see Dawson and some body called Holmes walkin dudes out of the place. They put the man in the back seat of a taxi and the Holmes guy would get in and drive away”.

“And?”

“Whatcha mean and?

“What else you got?”

“Ain't that enough?”

“Not for the amount of money you want”.

“Now don't go playin games with me Sarge. I come to you in good faith and expectin you to do right by me”.

“I get the feeling that you're holding back. That you have more information that you let on. Suppose you knock off the bullshit. Either you want to do business or you don't. Like I told you before, anything that you have to tell me I'll eventually find out anyway. It will just take a little longer.”

Twana remained silent for a minute as if thinking over the alternative. Things right now were tight. She needed money and she was now too old to turn tricks. “Alright, the cleanin woman came to work one morning and instead of Dawson and this here Holmes a new dude showed up helpin the cab driver to walk a john to the cab”.

“Who was he?”

“Man called Mike somethin”.

“Could it have been a Mike Winters?”

“Could have been”.

“Here we go again. Was it Michael Winters or not?”

“Yeah. I remembers now. That was the name she gave me”.

“That it?”

“For now”.

“O.K. Here's three hundred. Keep digging. Since your contact worked for the Dawson's she probably knows more than she's telling you. I don't know what or if your paying her, but that's your problem. Call me when you have something”.

“Ain't right you be short changin me”.

“You can quit”, said Kevin as he got out of the Cadillac.

By the time he drove back to headquarters it had begun to snow. He lowered his head into the winter wind as he made his way across the parking lot and into the building. Taking the elevator to the second floor he entered the Major Crime Squad room and took a seat at his desk. He then opened the desk drawer and removed the Medusa File. Opening it he laid out the reports in order then sat and read and reread refreshing his memory with the events that were listed. When he got to the typed documents on Peters, Nichols, Holmes and Winters he set them aside. He then took the reports on Holmes in his hand and read again what had originally been written about the man and filed. After reading, he disregarded the information about the fact that he was found unresponsive in bed. “What I do know is that Sheldon Holmes although a cab driver was also a part time pimp. Guys like him knew just about every hooker working the street. They also knew those that worked out of private homes, hotels, motels and rooming houses and their prices. Of course he knew Altina Woodson and since Twana's information that Holmes was seen taking a guy to his cab and then driving away indicates that he also knew about the use of scopolamine. The question right now is if he was part of the operation, why was he murdered?”, he thought to himself.

Next he picked up the reports on Michael Winters. Like the Holmes file Mckenna read it, almost studying it. Unlike Holmes who Kevin viewed as a two bit hustler working the streets he saw Winters in a different light. “Winters, as far as we know was an extortioner. Think about it. Was that why he was murdered? Possibly, however he wasn't killed like the others. His death was the result of a violent confrontation. Where the others were poisoned, he was stabbed. Once in the shoulder and once in the abdomen. He knew about Altina using scopolamine to roll her customers. He was seen helping Holmes walk a guy to the cab. Did he attempt to shake down Dawson and that's why he was killed. If so, why did he write “Met Pat” on his calendar? Once again, who is Pat? What's the connection?” Kevin questioned himself mentally.

Detective Collins walked into the office. His hair was wet from the snow that fell on his head then melted when he entered the building. He took off his overcoat and walked to his desk passing McKenna as he did. “I see you have the Medusa File out again. Is there anything new?”, he asked.

“Not really. Maybe a little bit more information about the hooker rolling customers and two of the room renters being in cahoots with the Dawson's getting those that had been rolled out of the place. Other than that, nothing”.

“Every little bit of the puzzle helps Sarge”.

“Well, let's hope that Mrs. Dawson's prints come back with a new piece to the puzzle”, said Kevin.

Turning to Cynthia Adams McKenna said, “ I want you to contact all of the insurance firms in and around the area. I want to know if any life insurance policies were taken out on Norman Peters, Harry Nichols, Sheldon Holmes and while we're at it, add Micheal Winters to the list. We should have done it earlier.”

“I'll get right on it Sarge”.

“Do you think that's why they were killed?”, asked Collins.

“I don't know, but it's a place to start again”, Kevin replied.

Sitting at his desk Kevin went through the Medusa File again. Using his finger he dialed the telephone number belonging to Margaret Holmes. When she answered she said, “Could you hold a minute?”

“Sure”, McKenna replied.

A few minutes later the woman said, “I'm sorry. I had something on the stove. I'm back”.

“This is Sergeant McKenna”.

“Yes?”

“The last time we spoke you told me that one of the reasons for forcing Sheldon to leave your house was because of the telephone calls that came from some man or a woman”.

“That's correct, but I still can't remember the woman's name”.

“Does the name Altina mean anything to you?”

“Teeny. That's it. Men would call asking to either talk to Sheldon or Teeny. Now it comes back to me. The man they asked for other than Sheldon was, Eddie”.

“I see, thank you”.

“Are you making any progress in your investigation?”

“Yes. While I have you on the telephone let me ask you this. Did Sheldon ever have any kind of life insurance on himself?”

“None that I know of. As I told you, he made just enough money driving the cab that let him keep his head above water, but just barely. I can't imagine him making a payment every week or month to an insurance company”.

“Alright Miss Holmes thank you for taking my call. If anything new comes up in our investigation I'll let you know. Good bye”.

“Good bye Sergeant”.

When he hung up the receiver Cynthia Adams called from across the room. “Scratch Prudential. They don't have policies on anyone I named”.

“O.K. keep digging”, said Kevin.

“I got Metropolitan on the line now”, said Cynthia.

Kevin reached for the yellow line tablet on his desk, then, taking a ballpoint pen wrote, “ all indications that Sheldon Holmes was a participant in a prostitution ring that involved :

Sheldon Holmes (deceased)

Altina Woodson (deceased)

Edward Dawson

Michael Winters (deceased)

Mckenna dropped the pen on the desk then leaned back in his chair. “A prostitution ring that operated almost fifty years ago, but three out of the four participants known to us are dead. How convenient. How indeed”, he thought to himself. He leaned forward and tore off the page containing what he had written and placed it in the file. He would type a report on the matter later.

He looked up when Detective Adams approached his desk.

“Got something?”, he asked.

Adams smiled. “I hit pay dirt with All State. Seems a policy was taken out on the life of Norman Peters. At his death the company would pay two thousand dollars to Edward Dawson”.

“Well, well”, said McKenna.

“Only like Dexter and Morgan All State refused payment when they saw that the death certificate listed, cause of death overdose of cocain and strychnine”.

“I see. It appears that after being turned down by Dexter and Morgan Dawson decided to use insurance companies that wouldn't bring too much attention to him having policies on his renters. So he dealt with a company that has a reputation for automobile insurance, not life insurance. At the same time he decided to go for less money in the pay off, going from ten thousand to two. Very good Adams, I suggest you check with other automobile insurance companies and see what you come up with”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Nine

A Lasting Impression

 

On a cold, Wednesday morning Sergeant Kevin McKenna walked across the police headquarters parking lot. He carried a white paper bag that contained Styrofoam cups of coffee and an a half dozen assorted doughnuts. In his mind at this time of day he wasn't looking forward to another eight hours of no results in the on going investigation related to the Medusa File. Nonetheless this was his current assignment.

When he entered the Major Crime Squad office Detectives Collins and Adams got up out of the seats and walked to where Kevin placed the paper bag on his desk. “Did you get my plain doughnut?”, asked Adams.

“Yes and let me tell you something. Just because you think the lack of sugar is good for your health, you're still consuming the fat and grease it was cooked in”, Mckenna offered.

“Just like your jelly doughnut”, Adams responded.

“You're right, but I had my gallbladder out two years ago. Guess what you've got to look forward to?”

“Is it diet or aggravation on the job that causes digestive problems in police work?”, asked Collins.

“Both and don't forget smoking cigarettes”, Kevin answered.

“Yeah, yeah. I'm trying to quit”, Collins responded.

As the three investigators sat at their desks each eating a doughnut and taking sips of coffee a uniformed officer walked in carrying the latest daily orders and the mail. He handed both to McKenna who looked at the small batch and nonchalantly tossed them on to his desk top.

Detective Cynthia Adams swallowed a bite of her doughnut and after a sip of coffee said, “Is there anything for me? I'm expecting a report from Washington”.

Kevin leaned forward and placed his cup on the desk top and with one hand looked through the stack on papers and envelopes. Finally, he found a long, white envelope with the F.B.I. address in the upper left hand corner and addressed to:

Detective Cynthia Adams

Nautilus Beach Police Department

Nautilus beach, New Jersey

“Yeah, you got something here”, said McKenna.

Adams wiped her mouth and hands with a paper napkin then got up from her chair and walked over to where Sergeant McKenna sat holding the envelope. “I hope that it's good news. Right now we could use some”, Kevin said.

The detective went back to her desk and after sitting down opened the envelope and removed a report. After reading it she sat in silence for several minutes. “Well?”, asked Collins. “What do they say?”

“You said that you hoped that it was good news. How's this? According to the F.B.I. the fingerprints found and lifted by our forensic unit and sent to the bureau for identification, the results are the following”.

“Yeah, yeah. Get to the point”, said Kevin.

“Well, according to the bureau the prints belong to a Patricia Gollegos, D.O.B. July 18, 1936. place of birth, Bogota, Columbia. Entered Miami, Florida, February 9, 1957. Applied for work permit, Boston, Massachusetts April 12, 1957. Contact lost.

Subject considered illegal alien”.

“Son of a bitch! Patricia Gollegos, well, well. Guys, we now know who the “Pat” written on the calendar forty seven years ago is at last,” said Kevin.

“Great. Now what?”, asked Collins.

“First, we finish our breakfast. Then, you go to court with this report and obtain an arrest warrant for a Delores Rodriquez, alias Patricia Gollegos who resides at the Dolphin Motel, Nautilus Beach, New Jersey. Then after you come back with a nice neat legal document you and Adams are off to the motel. Have two uniform officers meet you there. Right now, take your time. Don't. gulp your food. Remember what I told you about gallstones.” Turning to Adams Kevin asked. “Does the report have any other information?”

“Just that the original fingerprints were collected and sent by the U.S. Bureau of Immigration and Customs”, Adams answered.

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

Three hours later Sergeant McKenna walked towards one of the interrogation rooms. Standing in front of the closed door was Detective John Collins. Kevin surmised that Cynthia Adams was in the room with the now identified, Patricia Gollegos. “How did things go?”, asked McKenna.

“The person we know as Edward Dawson is pretty shaken up. Remember, he or she is old. The arrest and taking into custody of his wife is having a traumatic effect on him”, said Collins.

“What about Delores?”, asked Kevin.

“Again we have an elderly woman. She appears to be worried, but I don't know if she's worried about Edward or worried about being arrested and deported”, Collins answered.

“Well, elderly or not we have a job to do. Make sure our questioning of her is video taped. Has she been given the Miranda rights?”

“Yes sir. She even signed the card”.

“Good, and she hasn't asked for a lawyer?”

“Not yet”.

“O.K. Let's get started”, said Kevin as he opened the door and entered the room. When he walked into the interrogation area he saw a slightly overweight Hispanic woman sitting at the gray, metal table. She was attired in a pink house dress and wore black sandals. It appeared that she had been crying. Knowing that the video tape recorder was functioning Kevin asked, “Mrs. Dawson are you being treated alright? Do you suffer from any illness or need medication before we start questioning you?”

“No sir. I'm worried about my husband and what he might do?”

“If I were you I'd worry about myself. Right now as far as I know the federal government has been looking for you for a long time. Once I turn you over to them I think that they'll petition the court to deport you back to Columbia”, said Kevin.

“I've been in this country for over fifty years and in all that time I've caused no trouble”, the woman replied.

“That remains to be seen. We haven't contacted the Immigration people. When and how we do is up to you”.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that if you co-operate, answer questions truthfully then we will help you stay in the United States. However, let me advise you that there is no guarantee that Immigration authorities will grant you permission to remain. That's a chance you have to take. Do you understand?”

“Yes. I need to stay here. My husband needs me”.

“I'm sure he does. Now, are you ready to answer our questions?”

“Yes”.

“Excellent, but first let me warn you that lying to the police is a crime. Do you still want to co-operate?”

“Yes”.

“Good. Let's start with why you took the name and identity of Delores Rodriquez”.

“When I met Edward my visa time here in this country was about to expire. Edward told me that since Puerto Rican people are viewed as U.S. citizens and with a Puerto Rican identity I could stay without being bothered by immigration.”

“I understand, but how did you get the identity of Delores Rodriquez?”, asked McKenna.

“I kept in constant contact with my brother who lives in Bogota. I told him of my plan and what I needed. It was he that gave me the name and birth date. The little girl was born about the same year as I was”.

“How did he get the information?”

“In his business he travels a lot. He was in San Juan and visited a cemetery. He got the name and dates from the headstone”.

“What kind of business is he in?”

“He's a pharmaceutical salesman”.

“Really, what's his name?”

“Adolfo Gollegos”.

“Alright, so you settled in with Edward Dawson in Boston with a hidden identity. Why did the two of you come to Nautilus Beach?”

“Problems with the police”.

“What kind of problems?”

“Edward was pushing cocain. One of our user customers blew the whistle on us”.

“Why the house on Albatross Lane?”

“Edward saw it as a nice safe place to live and by renting rooms we would have a nice weekly income. We made a mistake and it cost us”.

“A mistake?”

“Yes. Edward decided to let the prostitutes use the rooms on the third floor. Each time they did they gave Edward ten dollars or more, depending on how long they used the room.”

“And you consider that to be a mistake?”

“Actually the mistake was meeting and doing business with Teeny”.

“When you say Teeny are you referring to a black woman named Altina Woodson?”

“Yes”.

“Why was meeting her a mistake?”

“Because that's when all the problems started”.

“What kind of problems?”

“Death”.

“Really? Who's death?”

“The first was Norman Peters”.

“I see. Can you tell me how he died?”

“Yes. He inhaled cocain with strychnine”.

“Strychnine is a poison why would he do that?”

“Because he was under the influence of scopolamine”.

“And, who used scopolamine on him?”

“Teeny. She wanted to show my Edward just how easy it was to control someone after they were given scoploamine”.

“So, she wanted to kill Peters to prove a point?”

“Oh, no. Peters death was an accident. When the strychnine was added to the cocain to increase the high, too much of it was used. Along with receiving a high he died”.

“I see. Where did Teeny get the scopolamine?”

“The original dose I got from my brother. He brought it in from Columbia and as a pharmaceutical representative and salesman he had no problem with Customs. When I saw it I got both nervous and angry. You see, I know how it works. I saw it first hand in Bogota. So when no one was looking I took what he had given my husband and I hid it one of my shoes”.

“Then what?”, asked Kevin.

“Then Edward and I had a terrific argument. He wanted to give it to Teeny. He believed that it would be much easier to steal from her customers. She would take them to a room on the third floor. Some time up there she would blow the scopolamine in their face, take what they had such as cash, or jewelry and some one would walk the man out of the house. Evidently they never remembered what happened to them because the police never came”.

“So, I take it that Edward won the argument and he and Teeny went into business together on a larger scale”.

“Yes”.

“That brings us to Harry Nichol. Why was he killed?”

“Harry Nichol was a type of man who thought that he was a Don Juan and every woman he met he thought he could seduce. He made moves on me a couple of times, but my husband straightened him out and after awhile he left me alone. So one night he made a move on Teeny. I guess she more or less liked him, but was peeved because he wouldn't pay if you know what I mean”.

“Yes, a hooker never gives it away unless she's in love, so they say”.

“Well, the next thing we know is that Harry is found unconscious in bed. At that time Edward and I didn't know what happened to him so we called for an ambulance. We were told later that he died in the hospital”.

“Did you ever find out that he also died form a dose of cocain and strychnine?”

“Yes”.

“How?”

“Teeny told my Edward that she did it”.

“When was that?”

“A long time ago, back in April, 1968”.

“Alright, that brings us to Sheldon Holmes”,said McKenna.

“What about him?”

“Come now, you know and I know that he died just like the other men. Let's not start playing games. So far you've been doing very well in answering my questions. Don't tell me you want to stop now”.

“I'm not being difficult Sergeant. You have to know that Sheldon Holmes involvement was much different then the others”.

“How?”

“My Edward came up with the idea that if Teeny used scopolamine and the men she used it on were driven out of town say, several miles out of town. Then with no memory of the events that happened to them, discovery of Teeny, Edward and the rooming house would be very difficult”.

“Go on”.

“Things went that way for some time. Then, Holmes decided he wanted more from the operation. He had become the main provider of customers for Teeny. She no longer worked the streets. She just sat in my kitchen smoking cigarettes and drinking whiskey waiting for Sheldon's cab to pull up and bring a man into the house. So, he wanted a third of the operation. He got greedy.”

“So they killed him?”

“Teeny killed him. The guy thought that nothing could happen to him. He certainly never thought she would blow scopolamine in his face. But, she did and like the others under control he snorted the cocain and poison”.

“So all three murders, Peters, Nichole’s and Holmes were all committed by Teeny?”

“Yes”.

“And, Edward Dawson had no part in the killings?”

“Of course he knew about them, but he didn't kill anyone”.

“That then takes us to the murder of Michael Winters”, said McKenna.

“I don't want to talk about it”, said Delores.

“Why not?”

“I just don't”.

“Could it be because you don't want to tell us about Edward Dawson, your so called husband using a knife on Winters?”

“I have nothing to say. I refuse to say anymore”.

“Very well. I'll have you taken to your cell and tomorrow I'll contact the Immigration and Customs Bureau and they can talk to you. Cynthia, make sure that Delores Rodriquez is booked and add her real name, Patricia Gollegos,” said McKenna.

After leaving the interrogation room McKenna and Collins took the elevator to their office floor. Once in the office Collins said, “Well, that just about wraps up the investigation on three of those murders. Now, if we can get her to open up on the Winters case we can close it out.”

“I want her to stew a bit in her cell. Right now she's between a sweat and a shit. She wants to protect Edward, but she doesn’t want to be deported. Very soon in my way of thinking, she'll make a choice. Let's see if it's by the way of the heart or self preservation”.

“Either way, it's going to be interesting”, said Collins.

“Cynthia Adams walked into the office. “She's booked and wanted her telephone call”.

“Did she make it?”

“Yes”.

“To who?”

“Guess”

“Edward”, said Collins.

“You win the cigar”, Adams replied as she took a seat at her desk. When she did the telephone rang. She lifted the receiver and said, “Major Crime Squad, Detective Adams speaking. Oh no. When? Are you sure? Thank you”.

Mckenna looked at Cynthia and said. “What's up?”

“That was the Detective Bureau. A radio car responded to a call at the Dolphin Motel. Upon their arrival they found Edward Dawson unconscious. They called for an ambulance and Dawson was rushed to the hospital. Detectives there were told that Dawson was D.O.A.”

“Son of a bitch!”, said McKenna.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Ten

A Girl Named Pat

 

Thursday morning at ten o'clock Sergeant McKenna and Detective Collins walked into the morgue located on the ground floor of the local hospital. There they met Doctor Albert Henderson, one of the pathologist that worked for the hospital.After introducing himself McKenna asked to see the body of Edward Dawson.

“Do you know that Edward Dawson is actually a woman?”, asked Doctor Henderson”.

“Yes sir. However, I still want to see the body”, McKenna replied.

The two police officers followed the doctor to where stainless steel drawers meant to hold cadavers took up the space on one wall. Doctor Henderson reached down and pulled a drawer out far enough to expose the face and upper body of the deceased. When he did he pulled back the white sheet that covered the body allowing McKenna a perfect view. Kevin looked upon a wrinkled face. A face with a white, neatly trimmed, beard. The eyes were closed but a hideous grin was visible, indicating strychnine.

“Have you done chemical analysis?”, asked McKenna.

“Yes, both blood and tissue.From what the police have told us and our own examination I will list the cause of death as Suicide, ingesting of strychnine poison”. Said Henderson.

“That's a hell of a way to go”, said Collins.

“I agree, but it seems fitting. After all, in a way he used it along with Altina Woodson. At least, he knew she was using it”, said Mckenna.

“I wonder how Delores will take it?”, asked Collins.

“Probably like any other wife who was in love with their husband. We just have to put a watch on her just in case she gets the idea to join her Eddie in some way”, said Kevin.

Back at headquarters McKenna met with Cynthia Adams.

“So, how is she taking the news?”, he asked.

“Pretty bad. When she finally stopped crying she asked if she could attend the funeral. What should I tell her?”

“Tell her yes. Then make arrangement for a female detective to join us. I want one of you on each side of her at the grave”, McKenna answered.

“Do you want her cuffed?,” asked Adams.

“No. Handcuffing an elderly woman in her seventies would appear not only stupid, but cruel. You can bet the press will be out there taking photographs and asking a lot of ridiculous questions like, how do you feel now that you know your husband committed suicide?”

“What about Immigration and Customs? When are you going to contact them?”, asked Collins.

“I want to question her one more time. Now that Ed Dawson is no more it is possible that she will open up and tell us about the murder of Michael Winters. If she does great. If she doesn’t at least we tried”, McKenna answered. When he finished speaking the intercom on his desk came on. “Sergeant, will you come to my office please?”, said Captain Myers.

“Yes Mam”, Kevin answered then left immediately for the Captains office.

Entering he was invited to take a seat. Captain Myers, after reading reports looked over the top of her eyeglasses and said,”Congratulations. I must say that you and your team have done an excellent job so far on this cold case Medusa File. What I want to know is how close are you to solving the murder of Michael Winters?”

“Very close. I almost broke the case yesterday, but Delores also known as Patricia fell back on her love and loyalty to her husband. So, at that time, even after telling us about the other three murders, she refused to talk. However, I'm hoping that by showing compassion to the woman with the death of her husband and the fact that she is not obligated anymore to protect her husband, she might be willing to talk to us”, Kevin explained.

“I see. Now, I understand you want a female officer in plainclothes to be assigned to you for the funeral of Edward Dawson”, said Myers.

“Yes Mam. I want an officer on both sides of her. I don't want her jumping into the grave or throwing herself on the casket. I'm certain that the news media will be present. We don't need to give them anything to complain and write about”.

“I see. Alright you'll get Lorraine Mitchell. Have Adams brief her and then you inform her of her duties and where and when. Kevin?”

“Yes Mam?”

“Fine job. Now, close out this case”.

“Yes Mam”.

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

A cold early March wind blew through the bare limb maple trees and across the brown, dormant lawns of the cemetery. The members of Kevin's unit with the addition of Lorraine Mitchell stood silently with Patricia Gollegos as the black hearse slowly pulled up beside the open burial site. Four men, dressed in black suits moved the casket out of the vehicle and then slowly carried it to the grave. There, the casket, bare and without flowers rested on the canvas straps that would eventually lower the coffin to the bottom of the open pit. Then it would be the final resting place for Edward Dawson. There was no clergy, no prayers. The only sound was the constant sobbing of Patricia Gollegos, the long time wife and mate of her Edward.

Kevin gave the woman a reasonable time to grieve at the grave site then motioned for the two female officers to lead Gollegos away from the area and back to the unmarked car she had arrived in. Strangely, none of the media had been at the funeral.

Three days went by after the funeral and as they did Sergeant McKenna sat patiently at his desk reading and re-reading the first, original reports in the investigation of the murder of Michael Winters. On the fourth day Patricia Gollegos was escorted to the interrogation room. There she met Kevin and Cynthia Adams. “Have a seat Mrs. Dawson. Would you like anything before I begin asking you some questions?”, McKenna asked.

“No thank you Sergeant. And, thank you for allowing me to visit my husbands grave”, said Patricia.

“You're more than welcome. Now, before I ask you for information I want to let you know that Edward left you the Dolphin Motel. That's the good news should you be allowed to remain in the United States. The bad news is if you're deported, the U.S. government will seize your property and you get nothing but an airplane ride back to Columbia”.

“You said that if I co-operated you would help me to stay in America”, said Gollegos.

“Yes I did and I will. You co-operate and you have my word that I will appear in federal court at your hearing”, Kevin said.

“I believe you. Now, I suppose that you want to know about the death of Michael Winters. The reason I wouldn't talk before was to protect my husband. I hope you understand”, Patricia explained.

“I understand completely. Now ,before you say anything let me advise you of your rights and the fact that you have already been given the Miranda warning. Do I need to read it to you again?”

“No sir”.

“Good. Now suppose you just tell us what happened the day or night that Micheal Winters was killed.”, said Mckenna.

“Very well. During the month of October 1968 my brother Adolfo arrived at the rooming house for a visit. Now, my Edward always called me by the name Delores. Adolfo made a mistake one night and called me Patricia. Michael Winters heard him use that name. The next morning I was in the kitchen making breakfast and Winters came in. He put his arm around my waist and whispered in my ear, “Good morning, Pat”. I pulled away from him and told him I didn't know what he was talking about. He smiled and said, that he now knew my real name and that Adolfo was the man supplying cocain and scopolamine to Edward and Altina. Then, he threatened me. He said that I had to sleep with him or that he would go to the police. I became afraid for my husband and brother so on the night of October 15, 1968 I slipped out of bed and went to Michael Winters room. When I got there he got out of bed. I saw that he was nude so I began to try to reason with him, telling him that I loved my husband and didn't want to betray him”.

“Then what?”, asked Kevin.

“As I stood there both talking and crying, my Edward barged into the room. Eddie had a knife and in anger he went for Winters. At first Winters held him off but he underestimated the strength that Eddie had. In the struggle Winters wristwatch was broken. Then, somehow Eddie got the upper hand and with a stabbing motion drove the knife point into the back of Winters”.

“I see. Actually, it was into the rear of a shoulder”, said McKenna. “Then what?” Kevin asked again.

“The fight continued. Winters struck my Edward in the face causing his nose to bleed. Now, enraged he drove the knife deep into the stomach of Winters. He moaned and fell face down on the floor. I remember my Edward standing over Winters as the blood dripped from his nose as he said, “Die you bastard, die!”

“Is that it?”, asked Kevin.

“Yes, I can't think of anything else”.

“ Let's talk about your brother. Did he in fact supply you and your husband with cocain and scopolamine?”

“Yes, but it was not as sinister as it sounds. The cocain was for our recreational use. We didn't sell it. The scopolamine as I've already told you was for Teeny”.

“I believe you. Now, if you'll just sit here and relax your statement will be typed up for you to read, change or correct if you thinks it necessary then you sign and you're finished”, said Mckenna.

“Except for Immigration”. Said Patricia.

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

Three months later in the beginning of June Sergeant McKenna sat in a Federal Court Room in Newark, New Jersey. The Department of Home Security had scheduled a deportation hearing for Patricia Gollegos, illegal alien living in the United States. Patricia did not have an attorney to represent her. She couldn't afford one. At the same time the United States government was not obligated by law to furnish her with one. She was on her own. McKenna took the stand and testified how co-operative Patricia had been in helping the Nautilus Beach Police Department to solve four homicides that had gone unsolved for nearly fifty years.

The U.S. Attorney however, proved that Patricia Gollegos lived in the United States for many years with the hidden identity of Delores Rodriquez posing as a citizen of Puerto Rico and by doing so failed to pay federal income taxes. He then produced evidence that the person who posed as her husband was in reality a woman and as such could not be considered the common law spouse of the accused. At the same time even with States allowing or permitting same sex marriages the persons known as Edward Dawson and Delores Rodriquez, also known as Patricia Gollegos did not join in marriage thereby rendering any attempt to gain citizenship through marriage to an American citizen impossible.

In addition the U.S. Attorney introduced the facts of the four homicides that were committed at 1600 Albatross Lane, Nautilus Beach New Jersey, a rooming house that Patricia Gollegos operated with her partner Edward Dawson and aided and abetted in the cover up of those crimes for nearly fifty years. In addition the government recommended a fine of forty eight thousand dollars, for three offenses. In lieu of payment the United States takes possession of the Dolphin Motel, Nautilus Beach, New Jersey,

Kevin sat and heard the Federal Judge quickly reach a decision to deport Patricia back Columbia.

With the governments permission McKenna was allowed to talk to the woman, Pat. “This was touch and go right from the start. I was hoping that my testimony would help you, but in fact, mentioning those deaths might have done you in. If it did, I'm sorry. Will you be alright?”, he asked.

“I'll be fine. Adolfo has a large house in Bogota, I will live with him, Besides he needs me to take care of him. Look at it this way. I came into this country with nothing. Now, I'm leaving the same way, with nothing. All I have is the memories of a person I loved dearly and who loved me in return, regardless of what people said or thought. Good by Sergeant”.

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

At eight o'clock on a Saturday night, Kevin McKenna, John Collins. Cynthia Adams, Captain Carol Meyers, Robert Wallace and Mary Wagner Wallace sat at a large table in the Glass Menagerie Restaurant. Kevin looked at the retired police captain and said, “Uncle Bob you started the tradition of those responsible for breaking and solving a case to meet and celebrate here in this place. Tonight, as you know we are here to keep with that tradition due to the fact that the case you called

“The Medusa File” is officially solved and closed. Personally, I regard you as family. I want to thank you for the things you taught me along the way in the investigation. Speaking for the members of my unit, they, aware of your reputation within the department also want to thank you. Now, I'll turn the talking over to Captain Myers”.

Carol Myers took a sip of champagne then putting the glass down said, “What can I say? We both know that if I am regarded as a fair investigator or a worthy superior officer, it was you Captain Wallace who is responsible for teaching me how to become both. In my early days on the department female officers were assigned mostly to the Juvenile Bureau. It was you who went out of the way and had me assigned to the Major Crime Squad. The rest as they say is history. Thank you”.

“Well said. Now, lets order and eat”, said Mckenna

On the drive home Kevin McKenna looked at Robert Wallace and said, “There's something else I have to tell you”.

“Oh yeah. Well just say it”, Wallace replied.

“In order for your wife to receive your pension should you die, she has to be married to you for five years”.

“Well, in that case, how about being my best man?”, said Wallace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 17.06.2015

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