Rigor MortisChapter 3
- 2 years ago
- 13
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Joe helped me to turn John Doe over so we could look on the other side and make sure there was nothing else involved in his homicide.
Then the attendant came in and told us that he had to “ice them down” in the freezer for the autopsy in the morning. I looked over my shoulder at him pushing the bodies back into their shelf in the wall like he was parking cars as a valet. Only these bodies were not going to wake up anytime soon and give him a tip.
“So whaddayouthink, Kiddo? Ya think John Doe got strangled before or after the perp gave him the last drink he would ever have or did he or she just was trying to speed things up a bit because he was taking too long to cash out.”
That was what I liked about my Uncle Joe. He could cut through all the bullshit and get right to the point. Not like these scientific goons that beat around the bush and still left you confused on what they really meant when they gave you a spiel about anything.
“To be perfectly honest with you Joe, I can’t figure that one out until the real doc takes a look at him under the scope. My suspicion is that she got tired of waiting and decided to move things along a little bit. My gut tells me she in a hurry to get away from the crime scene and she wanted to make certain our John Doe was good and dead before she left.”
I knew he was at least half-listening to me because he was at least shaking his head in agreement with my theory. I looked like he was already thinking about something else because his driver was giving him the “let’s get going” look that I recognized from memory. It was nice being driven everywhere he went with an armed guard. That was the price of getting up high in the organization and he played the game really good.
The unmarked car moved away from the curb smoothly with only the added antenna on the roof giving it away as a police car. I knew the driver and I also knew he didn’t like me because he was jealous of giving away any time with my Uncle to anyone not wearing a blue uniform and vetted properly in his book.
I had to admit my old jalopy was not exactly an advertisement for acceptability in the real world but I had gotten attached to it. It was a gift from my Uncle Jim from New Jersey. He was not my real Uncle but a close friend of my widowed mother who let him take her dancing up at Roseland right in the middle of Broadway where the music was sweet and the girls were a dime a dozen. He was a good guy but I suspected he was connected over there in Jersey and he usually made a point out of staying out of the city because of previous complications. When I was still living with my mom downtown, he would show up at the door with some goodies he told us had “fallen off a truck on the docks”. One time it was bananas and another it was this incredibly long pound cake like they used in restaurants that lasted almost an entire week.
Some prick taxi driver with a scared looking couple in the back seat gave me the horn more than once as I pulled out into traffic. I purposely drove like an old lady with eye problems just to irritate him and see what he would do. He just pulled around me and stepped on the gas roaring away like a scalded cat for the nearest alley.
I had wanted to stop at a convenient Horn and Hardart place near the morgue to get something filling into my gut. My hope of getting my Uncle Joe sitting down for a serious conversation was busted by his always watchful driver.
It was still early enough for me to find a parking space right outside the front door.
In a couple of hours, the church-going crowds would be filling up the chairs and wolfing down the pancakes and syrup. I think the place lost money on the pancakes but it didn’t stop me from doing the same thing when the urge hit my hunger button. Their coffee was always hot and black just the way I liked it.
There was a usual splattering of drunks and bums not making any trouble and looking in their empty pockets for the nickels that fed the coffee machine and got them the toast that they piled high with the free butter and jam that came on little paper cups. I went to the special-order window and ordered eggs over easy because I knew they were using the powdered stuff to make the scrambled eggs and it reminded me of my time in the Army during the Korean War. I was too young to make the big war but was just the right age to get into the follow-up “police action” nastiness in the 1950s.
I grabbed a window table so I could keep an eye on my old Buick. I wasn’t worried about anybody stealing the thing but I had a couple of long guns in the trunk and I didn’t want them to be missing when I got back.
The solitary dame sitting at the table behind me tapped me on the shoulder and asked if she could borrow my sugar that I had carried over from the counter to make it easy to sweeten up my coffee and sprinkle on my oatmeal that I loved to start the morning with when I had the time.
I had noticed her when I came in the joint but my hunger at the moment was in my belly and not further south. That was something I reserved for nocturnal settings but seemed to be getting further and further apart as I got older. I was not really that old biologically. I was born in the midst of the great depression in 1932 and was fast approaching thirty but I felt like I was truly an old man after having been in combat for almost three years on the other side of the world and then my stint in the NYPD that left me retired at half pay on disability with both knees shot up but still working.
I met my Uncle Joe over at the cop bar on Eighth Avenue that still used sawdust to keep the dirt down on the floor. The scent of the lunchtime menu overpowered the aroma of the beer and spirits that never left the place if you had a sensitive nose. The thing I liked best about the White Rose was their mid-day collection of hot food for the blue-collar workers in the neighborhood. Of course, most of the clientele washed it all down with liberal helpings of the draft beer that tasted like it...
Raymond stood there shaking the raindrops from his obviously borrowed or stolen woman’s umbrella and I could tell from his shifty eyes he was spinning his story with every word that crossed his lips. In all honesty, I didn’t really mind because I was used to Raymond by now and I hoped we could work together without one of us killing the other because underneath it all our dislike was a mirror image. I caught him ogling my secretary Julie’s ass when she bent over to fill my first cup of the...
I knew I should be working on running down the leads in Raymond’s unfortunate demise despite my Uncle’s reluctance to stir things up. It was like we had stepped on an ant-hill with all the Internal Affairs sleazebags poking their noses into the everyday happenings of operational policing. I had to admit it was well within the realm of probability that Raymond’s death was linked to the investigation work he was doing for me on the Donnie Anderson case. Of course that narrowed down the list...
The sky over Manhattan that Monday morning were grey and overcast with a fog that lingered in the long cold stripes called Avenues all the way from the East River to the mighty Hudson rushing brown and swollen out to the Atlantic Ocean. I figured it was not a good time for the news helicopters to be navigating the high-rises and it brought back my fear of the noisy, smelly things that spelled finis to a number of my compadres in the Marine Corps quick response team of which I was one of the...
I should have suspected there was something wrong right off the bat and that it was not a normal middle of the week morning that dreary Wednesday in the city that never sleeps. It was too late now because I was already down at police headquarters swigging down my second cup of overly strong java without benefit of cream or sugar because the spoons were far too dirty to even consider using what with the nasty Asian flu still going around like Montezuma’s revenge on a side trip to Tijuana for...
Rita admitted to me after a few drinks that she was working an assignment from Internal Affairs to weed out the dirty cops taking money from the shadowy cartels that kept the drugs flowing smoothly on the violent streets. I had sort of suspected as much from the way she was asking all the right questions and knew way too much for a rookie cop. Rita told me to be quiet because her room-mate was a light sleeper. I soon discovered it was either a lie or she actually wasn’t aware that her...
The aftermath of the vicious assault on the police headquarters left a lousy taste in my mouth and made me more attentive to possible threats close enough to cause me harm. My Uncle was in a rotten mood and was staying mum on the investigation. That did a lot to increase my sense of paranoia about who was a good guy and who was worth a second look. The day started badly and got worse when my cute secretary with whom I had had some special moments announced in a stage whisper as she was...
I discovered that the Attorney General’s office were a bunch of busy little bees because the police headquarters was swarming with hordes of young men and women all wearing the distinctive jackets with the title “FBI” emblazoned on the back. I knew they had taken the files and were starting to carry the ball on the corruption charges that my Uncle Joe had been fighting to institute these last few years but without success. The case had enough dead bodies to start a tidal wave of protest from...
I got up early that Sunday morning with a determination to put in a run along Central Park West all the way from one end to the other. I actually made it up to eighty-second street before I decided to quit and save it for another day. Saturday night was a bit of a blur but it wasn’t from the booze. I had that under control these days. No, I had gotten a touch of the virus that was floating around the city making working mothers crazy with figuring out what to do with their sneezing,...
In all honesty, I have to admit that I was a bit embarrassed by our impulsive threesome. I could tell that Eve was pretty much onboard with the cherry breaking ceremony and she was so nervous that she spent a lot of time just giggling and laughing about the whole thing. She silently watched me pounding her older sister into the mattress afterwards and she felt her body all over like she was in some kind of a voodoo trance like one of those zombie movies that always amused me. Anyway, the...
The only thing that I didn’t like about dating FBI Special Agent Gloria was that she was all caught up in the handcuff fetish and would hook me to the wrought iron bedpost sometimes when I fell asleep in the middle of the night. I didn’t mind her riding me on top because I liked the way her ass cheeks slapped into my thighs with that meaty sound of mutual lust that never failed to make me as hard as a rock at the right time. We were alone in the bedroom late that night and she had me just...
The shock of the gangland style assassinations of the cops sort of turned the city on its ear and a sense of fear and shame could be an indicator of better days ahead. The pushback from the general public was well covered by the fickle media which suddenly pivoted from blaming the cops for everything from blackouts to enforcement of collecting the fares on the mass transit system to praising them for reach-outs to the local populace using things like the Police Athletic League to win the...
Early the next morning, I picked up two coffees and a pair of doughnuts for Gloria and me to pig out on up on the roof of the Federal building downtown. She was frowning at the doughnut but I noticed she didn’t hesitate to shove it in her pretty little mouth and wash it down with a big swallow of Java. The tough FBI Special Agent had been making noises lately about her putting on some extra pounds around the hips and I took it all with a grain of salt because I was so used to most of the...
My nightmare had me underwater and I could barely breathe. I struggled to get back up to the surface but got all confused between up and down. I reached up and felt what I thought was a huge rope around my neck and opened my eyes to Julie’s arm resting comfortably across my nose and mouth. I carefully pushed it away from my face and turned over and immediately fell back into a deep sleep that was only broken by the sound of screeching brakes down on the street outside. I saw that Julie was...
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The days of the trial were becoming more routine now. I would rather be in a totally different atmosphere but the light at the end of the tunnel was becoming more focused with each passing day. I had to admit it was far better than being in a combat zone or getting shot at on the job, but I really missed the freedom of choosing my own clothes and going to a ball game and taking a day off if I wanted a bit of variety in my life. I made it up with Julie by having her visit me on a conjugal...
The atmosphere in the courtroom changed as soon as the focus shifted from the prosecution making its case to hearing the defense team finally telling their side of the story. It was obvious to the spectators and hopefully to the jury members that the judge was doing his level best to grease the wheels for the prosecution simply because the evidence and the facts were so overwhelming that some of the jurors questioned why the case was not dismissed at the outset. The sense of chaos at the...
The first thing the judge did on Tuesday afternoon just when the trial was supposed to start back up again was to shut everything down and dismiss the jury with the caution not to discuss the case with any member of the press. His explanation was that the case had taken a new direction and it would be necessary to convene a new grand jury to continue any processing of new charges against the defendants. Most of the jurors seemed disappointed because they had gotten into a routine that...
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Julie did a good job of keeping any expression off her face as she listened silently to my report on the intelligence I had received from teenaged Eva on her sister Gloria’s little tricks to stitch me up for a long stretch in prison. I knew I had shamelessly taken advantage of Eva’s crush on me at the beginning of her sexual development, but I mollified my guilty conscience with the argument that it was she that came to me and I didn’t do anything to set her up to pump her more ways than...
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I looked around at the now mostly empty front room. It, like every other room in the house, was devoid of furniture and almost every other sign that anyone had lived in it, at least in anything like recent times. When she, my wife, got home; she was in for a big surprise. I had to smile to myself. Smile? More like a sneer, actually. When my wife: that traitorous, low down, mean-assed, cold-hearted bitch of a woman got home; she was in for a bit of payback for damn sure; not that it could ever...
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