Doug Allyn - v108 n03-04_1996-09-10

She was hugging the cat now, tears beginning to fall.

“I certainly hope you catch the man. Lorena never hurt a soul. Just watched television and read her books. She did lovely needlepoint. Do you know—” She cleared her throat. “Did you know he took the rings right off her fingers? Who would do a thing like that?”

After receiving her promise that she would call if she remembered anything else, the partners eased themselves from the apartment and into their car. While Skovich gulped a couple of antacids Hacker observed quietly, “This is a good neighborhood. Fairly low crime rate. A nice old lady should feel safe living here. If we’re lucky enough to catch this guy, I think I’d like to impress that on him before we take him in. Inflict some pain, you know? That might make me feel good.”

“That’s police brutality,” Skovich told him. “I’d have to stop it if I saw it.”

“I never said I’d do it. Just said I’d like to.”

“And I said if I saw it. I never said I’d be looking right at you.”

The first item on the agenda for the following morning was to track down Mickey Wise.

“Mickey’s never hurt anyone before,” Skovich reasoned, “just ran his insurance scams and disappeared. But who knows what he might do if given the opportunity?”

Hacker looked dubious. “I don’t have my heart set on him, but it’s worth a shot.”

As they rounded the corner of the station, heading for their car, a sharp “Psst!” brought them up short, tensing. Hands dropping towards holsters, they swung to see P.T. stepping from the shrubbery.

Skovich relaxed. “Oh God,” he muttered. “Again?”

The old man was alone and beaming. “Bet you thought we’d forgot, didn’t you? Nossir, we talked it over last night and here’s what we came up with. I told you, we kept an eye on this lady because Marsh thought she was cute. Okay, she walked her dog every day between four and four-thirty. Sharp. Always took the same route — down Piedmont, through the park, back up Piedmont, got it? She had her hair done every Tuesday at the Hair Today beauty parlor on Copeland. Might turn up somebody suspicious there, you think? She bought her groceries on Friday from the U-Save Market on Rochester, and every coupla weeks she went to the library on Willow. She carried her books in a little bag with the name of the library on it. Oh yeah, and Sid says to tell you there’s been a ratty-looking guy in the park a few times lately. Little fella with greasy dark hair and a leather jacket that says ‘More Power’ on it.” He leaned towards them eagerly. “You got all that? You didn’t write it down.”

Skovich tried not to smile, wondering what undercover vice cop Overfelt would say if he knew he’d just been turned in.

“I got it up here,” he said seriously, tapping his temple. “Doesn’t pay to write too much down. You never know. And stay away from the guy in the park. We know about him. We’re watching him.”

“Well, that’s good,” P.T. said. He glanced nervously over each shoulder. “Not too safe to be seen together, I guess. Someone might catch on. I’d better get going.” He wagged a warning finger under Hacker’s nose. “You got a good boss here. Pay attention to him. That’s how you learn things, understand?”

Hacker blinked. “He’s not my—” he began.

“Thanks, P.T.,” Skovich broke in smoothly. “Don’t worry about him. He’s a good one. Catches on fast.”

“We’ll let you know when we got more,” P.T. said, and he was gone, scuttling along the side of the building. Skovich turned back towards their car.

“You’re not my boss,” Hacker complained, falling into step. “Why’d you let him think that?”

“Hey, what difference does it make?” Skovich grinned. “It was an honest mistake. He could obviously see I have an air of authority about me.”

Hacker snorted. “Or could obviously see that you’re the old guy.”

“Wasn’t it just yesterday you were telling me I’m only forty and all that crap?”

Hacker shouldered him aside and slid into the driver’s seat. “I try to stay flexible in my thinking,” he said. “Pick a side and I’ll be on it.”

They tracked Mickey Wise to a deli on Broad Street. Mickey was young, brash, and charming, adept at parting senior citizens from their hard-earned dollars for insurance policies that never materialized. In his past, Mickey had even been known to convince at least one elderly widow to insure her precious parakeet for an astounding sum. Mickey was enjoying a corned beef on rye when they arrived, and he didn’t object when the partners slid into his booth to join him.

“How’s the insurance business, Mickey?” Skovich greeted him.

The boyish shine dimmed in Mickey’s eyes. “I’m out of that business, detective, sir,” he answered earnestly. “I’ve learned my lesson. I’m working for my uncle in the trucking business now. You’re looking at a solid citizen and I owe it all to you two.”

“Well, that’s swell,” Skovich said. “You haven’t by any chance been visiting friends at 1012 Towne Place recently, have you?”

Mickey swallowed carefully before replying. “Hey, I know what happened there. Some poor old woman got killed. Don’t look to me for that. Even back when I was a bad guy I never hurt anyone. It’s not in me.”

“Thanks for the testimonial,” Hacker told him. “But humor us, okay? Where were you a week ago Thursday? All day.”

Mickey’s smile was more of a smirk. “Well, you’ll pardon me if I spare you the details, but I was on my honeymoon. I got married the Sunday before that and my sweet bride and I went to Hawaii for a week. Check it out. I told you, I’m a changed man.”

Mickey’s story held. The airline confirmed passage, and the hotel in Hawaii had them registered in the bridal suite for eight days. Faxed pictures of Mickey were identified as the proud bridegroom.

Hacker sighed. “Oh well, he’ll be coming back to us one of these days anyway.”

“Oh yeah,” Skovich agreed. “He’s got two mouths to feed now.”

The initial interviews with tenants in Mrs. Miner’s building had come up with a record for one. His name was Darcy Lundgren, and he’d been convicted some years past for an assault on an elderly woman because her dog persisted in using Lundgren’s yard as a public facility. It didn’t sound too promising, but the partners went to see him anyway. He had, after all, landed the woman in the hospital.

Lundgren turned out to be an ageing, soft-spoken man, partially blind.

“I knew her from the building, sure, but I never said more than hello to her,” he told them.

“How about her dog? We understand you don’t like dogs very much.”

Lundgren sighed. “That was a long time ago. I had a drinking problem back then, lost my wife and kids because of it. I’ve been sober for almost twenty years now. I’ve got a good pension and I mind my own business. Ask anyone who knows me. I’m not the same man I used to be.”

They believed him. “Too many bad guys reforming on us,” Skovich groused on their way back to the car. “Keep this up and we’ll be out of a job.”

Nothing was opening up on this case, so for the next few days the partners occupied themselves with others. Hacker was pleased that Skovich’s tooth continued to improve.

“You know, I think I’m going to pull you through this case all in one piece,” he beamed. “Maybe your bad luck is over.”

Skovich munched an antacid. “Let’s go back and talk to Mrs. Halloran again,” he suggested. “She’s the closest link we’ve got to Lorena Miner. Maybe we can help her to remember something she forgot.”

Four old men rose in unison from their park bench to hail them as the detectives cruised past. Skovich reluctantly stopped the car and they clustered at its windows.