https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0818746JV

Streets of Darkness

By

Al Lamanda

Copyright by Al Lamanda

Chapter One

Eli Andrew Rico always did his ironing in front of the kitchen window. It faced the park across the street from his Bronx apartment and he liked to watch the kids playing baseball while he ironed.

Today was Sunday and his day off. He was ironing five white shirts for the coming week. White wasn’t a requirement, but it made life a bit simpler if all his shirts for work were the same color.

His apartment was small, but comfortable and the view of the park from the fourth floor was excellent. Today the kids were playing a game of pickup baseball where teams were chosen at random. School was out for the summer and the kids made the most of it. Baseball, touch football, tag sometimes so the girls could play and when a fire hydrant was opened by the fire department it attracted the neighborhood kids by the hundreds.

He thought about a pet for company. The building allowed pets, dogs and cats, but his job took up so many hours it wouldn’t be fair to an animal to be left alone so much of the time.

Eli finished the fifth shirt and hung them neatly in the bedroom closet. In the bathroom, he shaved carefully and then took a shower. The humidity was high so he turned on the bedroom fan and stood before it to air dry rather than towel off.

Then he dressed in white slacks, a pullover shirt, tan socks and loafers. In his right packet he stuck some folding money, his keys and old Zippo lighter in the left. Handkerchief in the left rear pocket, wallet in the right. Cigarettes in the shirt pocket. To his right ankle, he strapped on the .38 special snub nose revolver. The holster, gun and six extra bullets were heavy but he was used to the weight.

Before he left the apartment, as an afterthought, he tucked the five and a half inch long switchblade knife into his right pocket.

He wore his father’s old watch, the only watch he had ever owned.

The heat and humidity outside was like a slap to the face. He crossed the street and entered the park. Mr. Peru, who sold Italian ices in the summer for as long as Eli could remember was in his usual spot at the gate.

Eli forked over a dime for a cherry flavored snow cone and found a bench to eat it and watch the game in progress. Nobody ever kept score. The games lasted until it was too dark to see the ball. Oftentimes fights broke out and delayed play until someone broke it up and play resumed. Sometimes in the middle of a game a kid got upset with his team and went to play for the other team.

It didn’t matter to Eli who won or lost. The noise of kids playing was like fine music to his ears.

He ate the snow cone until all the cherry syrup was gone and then tossed the paper container into the nearest trash bin. He reclaimed his bench and lit a cigarette. The Zippo had seen better days, but it was thirty-two-years-old and was given to him by his father. He would use it until it no longer functioned and then store it someplace safe.

The heat and humidity wore the kids down and they called the game quits.

Eli stood and left the park. He walked two blocks to the Italian bakery on the corner and picked up two round loaves of bread, the crusty kind. Then he walked back to his apartment to retrieve his car that was parked at the curb.

It was still early, but the drive to his parent’s home in New Jersey took forever. First he had to drive into Manhattan and then to the George Washington Bridge and cross over and drive south to Paramus.

He couldn’t be late. His mother served dinner promptly at six-thirty every night except Sunday. Sunday was five on the nose and you felt her wrath if you were late. His sister Shelly, her husband Robert and their two girls would be there along with Mom and Pop.

His car, a forty-one Ford didn’t have a radio, so he hung a transistor radio from the rearview mirror. He turned it on and played with the dial until he found a ball game. The Yankees were playing Cleveland at home. The Yanks were up eleven to three in the fifth. Red Barber gave a quick recap as the sixth inning began. Joe DiMaggio had a home run and a double and Yogi Berra had two home runs. Unless there were some serious injuries on the team, the Yanks were a shoe-in to win the nineteen forty-nine pennant and World Series.

By the time he reached Manhattan the game was in the seventh inning. He drove north to One Seventy-Ninth Street to the entrance ramp of the bridge. Traffic leading to the ramp was backed up for ten blocks. The game ended as he reached the toll booths. He paid the seventy-five cents toll from the loose change he kept in the ashtray and crossed the bridge.

Seventy-five-cents may seem a lot to cross each way, but it was the longest bridge in the world and hailed as an engineering marvel, so he really didn’t mind the steep toll.

Once on the Jersey side, Eli drove south to Paramus.

Thirty minutes later, he arrived at his parent’s home. The home, a modest, three-bedroom Tudor was the crowning achievement of his parent’s lives. His father, Salvatore, arrived in New York from Italy in 1901 at the age of thirteen. Eli’s grandparents spoke no English and His father just a few words. It was there, at the point they were identified by immigration agents incorrectly that the family name of Riggeo was recorded as Rico.

Eli’s mother, Michele O’Rourke was born in The Bronx and was third generation Irish. Her great-grandfather came over in 1863 and fought in the Civil War. Salvatore and Michele met in 1913 and had to hide their romance from their families because an Italian boy didn’t date an Irish girl without consequences. In 1914, they secretly married and when the marriage became known they were outcast from their families.

It didn’t matter to Salvatore or Michele. They moved to a Bronx apartment and a year later Eli was born. Two years after that, Shelly came along. Salvatore worked for the Transit Authority and helped build tunnels and lay track. Later, he became a motorman and finally a conductor. Michele worked as a telephone operator for thirty-five years and retired just a year ago. Salvatore planned to retire in 1950.

They bought the house in 1939 when the price of homes was dirt cheap.

Shelly moved to Jersey with his parents. Eli stayed in The Bronx because he was into he second year as a New York City Police Officer.

In late forty-one, Eli took the exam for detective and made the grade the first try. He proved to be a brilliant detective and was on the brink of great things when the Second World War broke out.

He enlisted in the spring of forty-two as did nearly twenty million other men.

Salvatore gave Eli his watch and Zippo lighter that he carried in World War One when he fought in Italy, France and Germany.

Eli returned home in early forty-six and his job, as promised, was waiting for him. The war had depleted resources and by forty-seven he was promoted to homicide as a sergeant and just last year to Lieutenant.

Sally, Robert and their kids were already there when Eli arrives at his parent’s home. Robert drove a forty-seven Cadillac, his father a forty-three Ford. He parked behind the Ford, grabbed the bread and prepared himself for the dinner conversations to follow.

Robert would subtly brag about his career as an engineer and how well he was doing financially. Shelly would discretely inquire about his dating habits and try to set him up with one of her ‘unmarried friends.’ Ma would tell him for the thousandth time how she would sleep better at night if he had a different career, one that was safer. Pop would want to talk baseball. The Yanks, Giants and Dodgers. It would all go on for hours and nothing would ever get resolved except that everyone would eat too much and burp too much later on.

As Eli walked to the front door, it suddenly opened and his father stepped out.

“Your office called,” he said. “They said it was an emergency.”

*****

Eli used the phone in the bedroom to call the office. He spoke to the dispatcher on duty for a few minutes and then hung up.

He went to the living room where the family had gathered.

“I have to go,” he said.

“It’s Sunday,” his mother said.

“I know, Ma,” Eli said. “I have to go.”

“I’ll walk you out,” his father said.

At the door, Salvatore said, “Eli, be careful.”

“And make sure you eat something,” Michelle called after him.

Chapter Two

The drive back to Manhattan took about an hour. An accident on the GW closed two lanes and heavy Sunday traffic funneled into the remaining open lanes causing a bottleneck.

He fiddled with the radio and found the Giants game. They were losing and ‘Stan the Man’ had just hit a homerun to crack open the game. He lit a cigarette and felt his shirt stick to the seat.

Traffic inched along the bridge.

The back of his shirt was drenched by the time he reached Manhattan. He drove to Broadway and then south and then to Central Park West to the Charter Arms apartment building on 81^st Street.

Eli parked at a hydrant, opened the glove box for the Police on Duty sign and left it on the dashboard. He also took out a small notebook and pen.

The Charter Arms was thirty stories high of luxury living for the city’s elite. Eli had never been inside the building, but had driven past it hundreds of time. The ornate and lavish lobby faced Central Park. The underground parking garage was located on the 81^st Street side of the building.

A guard employed by the building was on duty in a little hut at the entrance to the garage. Eli showed him his badge on the way in. He walked the ramp into the garage and stopped for a moment to observe the scene.

Six police cruisers were parked in somewhat of a circle. A woman sat in back of one of them. An ambulance and the medical examiners wagon were parked beside a Cadillac sedan. The sedan’s driver’s side door was open. A department photographer stood waiting for the word to go to work.

Eli approached the scene.

“Hi, Lieutenant,” a patrolman said.

Eli nodded. “Did anybody touch anything?”

Another patrolman said, “Me and my partner took the call. Nothing was touched.”

Eli nodded again. He walked to the medical examiner, an experienced doctor named Wilson.

“Did you check the body yet?” Eli asked.

“Waiting on you,” Wilson said.

“Go ahead.”

Eli looked at the woman in the back of a patrol car. “Who is she?”

A patrolman stepped forward. “That’s my car, Lieutenant. She’s the maid. She found the body. She says the victim is Roger Tanner, her employer.”

“The maid?” Eli said.

“That’s what she said,” the patrolman said. “Her English isn’t very good. I think she’s a PR.

Eli walked to the patrol car, opened the rear door and sat beside the maid. He showed her his badge.

“I’m Lieutenant Rico,” he said. “What is your name please?”

“Rosa Garcia.”

“I understand you work for Mr. Tanner,” Eli said as he jotted her name in his notebook.

Rosa nodded her head. “I am the housekeeper,” she said in a thick Spanish accent.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened,” Eli said.

“What happened?”

“Yes, tell me what happened.”

“Mister Tanner, he leave to go play cards like he do every Sunday night and he forget his cigars,” Rosa said.

“His cigars?”

“Si. I mean yes.”

Rosa picked up the leather cigar holder from the seat beside her. “His cigars,” she said.

“What time did he leave the apartment?” Eli asked.

“Four,” Rosa said. “He leave every Sunday at four to play cards.”

“And how did you notice he didn’t take his cigars?”

“Every Sunday I pack his case with six fresh cigars and leave it on the table beside the front door,” Rosa said. “He forget them. I see them there and I rush to the elevator to try and see him before he drive away.”

“What time was that?”

“Four. He always leave at four to go play his cards.”

“So you grabbed the cigars and did what?”

“I go to the hallway to the elevators and I have to wait for the elevator,” Rosa said. “Two, maybe three minutes and then it come. I ride down to garage and see Mister Tanner’s car door open and he on the floor covered in blood.”

“And what did you do?”

“I screamed. What would you do?”

Eli smiled. “Who called the police?”

“I ran up the steps to lobby and tell the guard,” Rosa said.

“Did Mr. Tanner ever forget his cigars before?”

“Si. I mean yes. He forget things all the time. A few times he call from the card game and I go deliver them.”

“Where do you live, Miss Garcia?”

“In the apartment in the maid’s room.”

Eli nodded as he jotted a few more notes. “Excuse me for a moment.”

Rosa nodded.

Eli left the cruiser and went to Wilson. “What do you got?”

“I got a corpse on the floor of a parking garage,” Wilson said.

“Funny,” Eli said. “What killed him and when?”

“One large stab wound to the spleen,” Wilson said.

“Jesus,” Eli said.

“He didn’t die from that, although he would have left untreated,” Wilson said. “His neck is broken. Snapped like a dry twig.”

Eli stared at the body of Roger Tanner for a moment. He was slumped on his left side. “Get his wallet and then go over the body with a fine tooth comb. Prints on the car, whatever. Check everything and I mean everything.”

“Can I photograph the body now?” the photographer said.

“Every angle,” Eli said. “Just don’t touch it.”

“Lieutenant, some reporters are here,” a patrolman said.

“Keep them out,” Eli said. “I want five two-man teams to knock on every door in the building and get statements. I’m taking Miss Garcia up to the apartment. Wait, I want statements from the guard at the garage security booth and from the doorman and like right now. Bring them to the apartment.”

“You got it, Lieutenant,” the officer said.

*****

Rosa used her key to unlock the front door to the apartment. She opened the door and stepped inside and held the door for Eli. Before he entered, he glanced down the hall. As with most large apartments there was a servant’s door down the hall.

The living room was as large as or larger than Eli’s entire apartment. It was expensively furnished, including a set of Tiffany lamps.

“Let’s sit on the sofa and talk for a bit,” Eli said.

Rosa took a seat on the twelve-foot-long sofa.

Eli sat near her and opened the notebook.

“How long have you worked for Mr. Tanner?” Eli asked.

“Since nineteen forty-two,” Rosa said.

“Where are you from?”

“Cuba.”

“When did you come to America?”

“I … what is the word … I can’t think,” Rosa said.

“I understand. You’ve just witnessed a terrible crime,” Eli said. “Take your time.”

Rosa nodded. “In Cuba, my family was put into the prison,” she said.

“Why?”

“Politics. They believe in freedom.”

Eli nodded. “I understand. Go on please.”

“I work as housekeeper at hotel in San Juan,” Rosa said. “The man who own the hotel say he own a hotel in New York and I can go there if I want. That’s how I came, to work in the hotel. He sponsor me.”

“And how did you come to work for Mr. Tanner?”

“One of the women at the hotel, she tell me about Mr. Tanner looking for a new housekeeper. She say I should see Mr. Tanner.”

“And you did?”

Rosa nodded.

“He like me and hire me as housekeeper,” Rosa said.

“How old are you, Miss Garcia?” Eli asked.

“Twenty-nine.”

“Did you plan to work for Mr. Tanner much longer?”

“Until I have enough.”

“Enough what?”

“Money saved. I have fifteen thousand dollars in the bank.”

“You have fifteen thousand dollars?”

“Si. Yes. Mr. Tanner, he pay very well. One thousand dollars a month and I live in the apartment. I show you.”

Rosa and Eli stood and she led him to the large kitchen. She opened a door located on the back wall.

“See?” she said.

Eli looked inside the large studio apartment that was well furnished.

“You live here?” Eli asked.

“Si. Yes. I live here. I pay no rent so I save most of my money.”

Eli nodded. “Where does Mr. Tanner keep his cigars?”

“In the cigar room. I show you.”

Rosa took Eli to the den. The walls were lined with well-stocked books. The desk was oak, the chair leather. She opened a door and Eli looked inside. The room was lined with shelves of boxed cigars of every major brand, including Cuban.

“Let’s go back to the sofa,” Eli said.

“I can make coffee you like?”

“That would be fine,” Eli said.

They returned to the kitchen where Rosa made coffee. Eli sat at the table until it was ready and then she filled two cups and sat opposite him.

Eli sampled the coffee. “Good,” he said.

“Is Cuban coffee. I buy at the special store on Broadway.”

“Miss Garcia, what did Mr. Tanner do for work?” Eli asked.

“Mr. Tanner no work,” Rosa said. “He a … how do you say … wealthy.”

“Do you know how he acquired his wealth?”

Rosa shook her head. “He never say about such things.”

“What about friend and girlfriends?”

“Mr. Tanner have many friends. They play cards every Sunday night.”

“Where?”

“The Park Plaza Hotel. They always play in room 1919.”

“At what time?”

“He always leave at four. He get home around one in the morning.”

“Are you sure?”

Rosa nodded.

“How long have you and Mr. Tanner been lovers?” Eli asked.

Rosa blushed and her eyes looked away.

“Your room looks as if it hadn’t been slept in for quite a while,” Eli said. “You’re a very pretty woman and the average salary of a live-in housekeeper is around fifty dollars a week. It wasn’t hard to figure it out, Miss Garcia.”

Rosa looked at Eli. “He say one night he very lonely after his wife died,” she said. “He say he want company. At first I not understand.”

“That was when?”

“Five years ago, maybe longer.”

“Well, there is no crime in being lonely,” Eli said. “What about his enemies?”

“He have none I know of,” Rosa said.

The phone rang. Rosa looked at Eli and he nodded. She stood and picked up the wall phone.

“Hello, residence of Mr. Tanner,” she said.

Rose listened for a moment and then said to hold on. She looked at Eli. He stood and took the phone.

“This is Police Lieutenant Eli Rico, who is this please?”

“Michael Breck. Where is Roger?”

“Mister Breck, I’m afraid Mister Tanner is dead,” Eli said.

“Dead? How could he be dead?” Breck asked.

“Somebody murdered him,” Eli said. “Are you at the Park Plaza Hotel?”

“Yes, we’re …”

“Stay there until I get there,” Eli said and hung up.

Eli looked at Rosa. “Did Mr. Tanner have a safe?”

Rosa nodded.

“Show me.”

Rosa took Eli to the master bedroom and opened the walk-in closet door. Against the back wall stood a three foot tall safe. He entered the closet and tried the door. It was locked.

“Lieutenant?” a voice called from the living room.

Eli and Rosa returned to the living room.

Two crime scene investigators had arrived.

“Search everything,” Eli said. “Find date books, notes, whatever and have someone from the department open the safe in the bedroom.”

“What I do?” Rosa asked.

“For now, nothing,” Eli said. “Just stay in the apartment and help my men with whatever they need. Okay?”

Rosa nodded.

“And have a uniformed officer stay with Miss Garcia until I return,” Eli said to the two crime scene investigators.

*****

Michael Breck answered the hotel room door. Eli had his badge and ID ready and showed it to him.

“I spoke to you on the phone,” Breck said.

Eli entered and Breck closed the door.

“Who do we have here?” Eli asked.

Three men sat at the card table in the center of the room.

“John Potts, William Teal and Steven Roth,” Breck said. “Now will you tell us what in God’s name happened to Roger?”

“Gentlemen, let’s talk,” Eli said.

*****

As he rode the elevator to Tanner’s apartment, he scanned his notes. Roger Tanner was thirty-eight-years-old. The four men he played cards with the past decade were, as him, wealthy trust fund heirs. In Tanner’s case, he inherited a trust worth three million, seven hundred dollars.

While it was true that Tanner didn’t work at a regular job, he did have an advisement banker that managed his portfolio closely and he more than doubled his trust fund.

He married his high school sweetheart when they were both twenty-two-years-old. She died in nineteen forty from a freak accident in Central Park. She enjoyed riding her bicycle every morning in the park. It was the weekend of the Fourth of July. Some kids threw a pack of firecrackers in front of a horse-drawn carriage. The horse spooked and raced away from the driver. Horse and bicycle collided. The horse won.

Breck told Eli that Tanner barely left the apartment for close to a year after his wife died. After the bombing of Pearl Harbor, Tanner enlisted.

Or tried to.

He was deaf in the left ear from a childhood disease and was classified 4F.

He spent the war on the sidelines but did his part with fund raising events and donating money to military causes.

Breck and the others verified Rosa’s story of her employment as far as they knew.

Breck told Eli that he spoke with Tanner recently concerning his relationship with Rosa. Breck said that Tanner was considering asking her to be his wife.

Tanner wasn’t a small man. He stood six feet tall and weighed one hundred and ninety pounds according to his driver’s license information.

So how was he overpowered so easily?

And without a fight.

The elevator door opened and Eli walked to the Tanner apartment. A uniformed officer was in the hallway at the door.

“Is someone inside with her?” Eli asked.

The officer nodded. “Everybody in the building is asking what’s going on?”

“They’ll find out soon enough.”

Eli opened the door and entered the apartment. A uniformed officer was sitting on the sofa and he stood up. “Hi, Lieutenant,” he said.

“Where is Miss Garcia?” Eli asked.

“In the master bedroom,” the officer said. “One second she’s sitting on the sofa calm as a Hindu cow, the next she’s hysterical.”

“See any combat, officer?” Eli asked.

“5^th Infantry.”

“When the battle is over, that’s when you breakdown,” Eli said.

The officer nodded. “Two statements from the guard in the garage and the doorman,” he said. “On the coffee table.”

Eli went into the master bedroom. Rosa wasn’t on the bed or anywhere else. The bathroom door was closed.

“Miss Garcia?” Eli said at the bathroom door.

“The door is no locked,” Rosa said.

Eli opened the door. The bathroom was the size of his kitchen. The marble tub could hold four and was sunken. Rosa sat in the tub up to her neck in bubble bath.

“I’m sorry. Excuse me,” Eli said.

“Is all right,” Rosa said. “Sit on the bench, please.”

There was a bench against the wall. Eli sat and looked at her. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. A glass of wine rested on the tiles floor beside the tub.

Rosa sighed heavily. “What happen now?” she said.

“If you mean tonight, I’ll head over to the office and review what we have,” Eli said. “An officer will stop by tomorrow to escort you to my office to take your statement. I’ll make sure an officer stays in the apartment overnight.”

Rosa nodded. “I will have to find a place to live now,” she said.

“Wait until a lawyer tells you that,” Eli said. “For now you’re my witness and I need you to stay put.”

“I ask myself why this happen,” Rosa said. “Mr. Tanner never hurt nobody.”

“Listen, it’s getting late and I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast,” Eli said.

“Would you like me to cook for you?” Rosa asked.

“That would be nice,” Eli said. “I’ll wait in the living room.”

Eli returned to the living room where the officer was in a chair, reading a newspaper. He stood when Eli entered the room.

“Were you here when forensics left?” Eli said.

“I was. They took everything but the kitchen sink.”

“What time does your shift end?”

“In about an hour.”

“You’re from the four two?”

The officer nodded.

“Head back to your house and tell your captain I asked for an overnight watch,” Eli said. “I’ll wait here until your people show up.”

“One for the hallway?”

“If there’s manpower.”

The officer nodded and left the apartment.

Eli picked up the two reports and went to the kitchen. He used the phone on the wall and called the medical examiner.

Wilson answered after three rings. “Medical Examiner,” Wilson said.

“It’s Eli.”

“I figured you’d call,” Wilson said. “Tanner’s on the slab as we speak.”

“And?”

“Too soon. Stop by in a couple of hours.”

“I will. Thanks.”

Eli hung up and touched the pot of coffee on the stove. It was still warm and he opened a cabinet, removed a mug and filled it. He found an ashtray in a drawer and took it to the table where he lit a cigarette.

How was Tanner overpowered so easily and quickly, he mulled over? From the time he left the apartment to the time Rosa found him was a mater of minutes. He read the reports from the guard in the garage and the doorman.

The guard claimed and his log book verified his statement that no one drove into or left the garage one hour prior to Tanner’s murder. A record of the log showed that seven residents of the building had left and entered the garage prior to four o’clock.

The doorman said that only building residents had left and entered the building during his shift that started at ten am and ended at six pm.

“What would you like?” Rosa asked as she entered the kitchen.

She had changed into white slacks, a yellow blouse and wore slippers. Her dark hair was pinned up. Her face, especially around the eyes was puffy and swollen. She had been crying again.

“Anything would be fine,” Eli said.

“That coffee is old,” Rosa said. “I’ll make fresh.”

Rose emptied the pot and went about making a fresh pot.

“That door there, is that the second entrance to the apartment?” Eli asked and pointed.

“Yes. The servant’s door,” Rosa said.

“Rosa, how is the trash removed?” Eli asked.

“The trash?”

“Yeah, the trash.”

“I leave it in the hall and the … what is the word?”

“The building superintendent,” Eli said.

“Yes. He come and pick it up.”

“What days?”

“Monday, Wednesday and Saturday.”

“Not Sunday.”

“No.”

“Does he live in the building?”

Rosa nodded.

“Can you call him on the phone and ask him to stop by?”

Rosa went to the phone, dialed a number and then spoke in Spanish. She hung up and looked at Eli. “He be right up.”

Eli nodded.

“The coffee take a minute,” Rosa said.

“No hurry.”

The doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” Eli said.

He stood and went to the living room and opened the door. “I am Victor Sanchez, the super,” Sanchez said in a thick accent.

“Come in,” Eli said.

“I already talk to police before,” Sanchez said.

“I know. I have a few questions though. In the kitchen.”

Eli and Sanchez went to the kitchen.

“Hello, Rosa,” Sanchez said. “I am so sorry about Mr. Tanner.”

Rosa nodded. “Have some coffee with us.”

Eli and Sanchez sat and Rosa filled three cups and then sat next to Eli.

“Mr. Sanchez, tell me about the garbage,” Eli said.

“The garbage?”

“Yes. How do you remove it and where does it go?”

“The tenants leave it outside the servant’s door and I pick it up in a cart and bring it down to the basement and fill the cans,” Sanchez said.

“On Monday, Wednesday and Saturday,” Eli said.

“Yes.”

“If a tenant has something they want to get rid of on say Tuesday or Thursday, what then?” Eli asked.

“They can call me or take it down themselves,” Sanchez said. “The private elevator is never locked.”

“Can you show me?” Eli asked.

“Sure.”

“Rosa, I’ll be right back,” Eli said.

Eli and Sanchez went out to the hallway through the servant’s door in the kitchen. Sanchez led Eli down to the end of the hall where the private elevator was located. Sanchez pushed the call button and after a few seconds the door opened. A large and empty laundry cart was in the elevator car.

Eli and Sanchez got on and Sanchez pushed the button for the basement.

“I keep an empty cart on the elevator for me to use,” Sanchez said. “And for people to put their trash in if they no want to go downstairs.”

The elevator arrived in the basement. The door opened and Eli and Sanchez got off. The basement was large. Thirty garbage cans lined the walls. Workbenches were filled with tools.

Eli pointed to a door.

“Where does that go?” he asked.

“The garage,” Sanchez said.

Eli opened the door and looked into the garage. “Is this door ever locked?”

“Never.”

“How do you bring the cans to the street?” Eli asked.

“Here,” Sanchez said and walked to another door at the end of the basement.

“Is this door ever locked?” Eli asked.

“No, never.”

The door opened to a courtyard. Eli and Sanchez stepped into the courtyard. There was a tunnel that led to the street. They walked the tunnel and it ended at the sidewalk about forty feet to the left of the parking garage.

Eli looked to his left. The guard on duty at the garage wasn’t visible.

“Mr. Sanchez, I suggest that from now on you lock those doors,” Eli said.

*****

Eli returned to the apartment to find a large Spanish omelet waiting for him. Rosa had prepared a second, smaller one for herself.

“This is delicious,” Eli said.

“Thank you,” Rosa said.

“I need you to do something for me,” Eli said. “Several things, actually. The first is that you speak to no one concerning Mr. Tanner. The second is when an officer arrives tomorrow to take you downtown to make a statement you be as thorough as possible. The third is you rack your memory for any information you can remember about friends, enemies and whatever. Okay?”

Rosa nodded.

“In all likelihood, I will see you tomorrow,” Eli said.

Chapter Three

Eli looked at the body of Roger Tanner on the examination table.

“He’s a fit man, isn’t he?” Eli said.

“He was,” Wilson said. “A mite over six feet tall, a solid one ninety one.”

Wilson rolled the body over. “The stab wound on the left side goes directly to the spleen. Painful, mortal given enough time, but not fatal in this instance. His neck is snapped in two like a twig. That’s what killed him and in my opinion, instantly.”

Eli looked at the stab wound.

“What kind of knife?”

“Haven’t identified it yet,” Wilson said. “It’s one I haven’t seen before. It’s at least fifteen inches long, though.”

“I’ll have the lab get on that,” Eli said. “Any other evidence on the body?”

“Clean. Look at the throat, tell me what you see.”

Eli examined Tanner’s throat. It was crushed at the Adam’s Apple but there wasn’t a mark on it.

“How is that possible?” Eli asked.

“You tell me,” Wilson said.

“It takes time to crush a man’s throat, even if you’re twice the size of the victim,” Eli said.

“Maybe he stabbed him first to weaken Tanner?” Wilson said.

“Maybe?”

Eli stared off into space for a moment.

“What are you thinking?” Wilson asked.

“Nothing. Call me if you figure out the knife,” Eli said. “The lab boys will be by later to take a look.”

*****

Eli called the captain of his division, Art Howe and asked him to meet him in the office. Howe was a tough, no nonsense cop with thirty years on the job. He fought in Germany and France in the First World War and was as fearless as he was fair-minded.

While Howe looked at the crime scene photos, Eli drew a little diagram on a legal pad.

“The killer enters through the street tunnel that leads to the basement where the garbage cans are stored,” Eli said. “He opens the door to the parking garage, kills Tanner and slips out the say way sight unseen.”

“This fucking city,” Howe said.

“The killer knew exactly where Tanner would be and exactly at what time,” Eli said. “That took some planning.”

“What do we have on the victim?” Howe asked.

Eli gave him the rundown on what he had so far.

“This is going to take some legwork, Eli,” Howe said. “A guy worth seven million doesn’t walk through life without some enemies and a lot of friends.”

“Agreed,” Eli said.

“What about the murder weapon?” Howe asked.

“The murder weapon was the killer’s hands,” Eli said. “The stab to the spleen didn’t kill him, a broken windpipe did.”

Howe sat on the edge of Eli’s desk.

“The press?” Howe asked.

“Nothing yet.”

“I’ll call a press conference in the morning,” Howe said.

“Will you need help on this one?” Howe asked.

“If I do, I’ll pull Jack Bannon and Tyler,” Eli said.

“The City doesn’t like its millionaires getting murdered, Eli,” Howe said. “Solve this one.”

“I’ll do my best, Art,” Eli said.

Howe stood up. “Do more than your best,” he said. “Do a miracle.”

*****

After Howe left, Eli sat in his chair and mulled things over in his mind. The killer knew Tanner’s habits. That required surveillance and lots of it.

Unless he was close enough to Tanner that he was familiar with Tanner’s regular routines.

The killer didn’t use a gun because in the confines of the underground garage a shot would have sounded like a bazooka and alerted the guard.

Motive?

There had to be a motive.

The phone rang and Eli picked it up. “Lieutenant Rico.”

“It’s Roscoe in the lab. We got the safe open.”

“Be right there.”

*****

The crime lab was located in the basement. Roscoe was the lead crime scene investigator, a twenty plus year veteran.

The contents of the safe were spread out on a table.

Eli looked at them.

“Jesus Christ,” he said.

“And them some,” Roscoe said. “Let’s start with the cash. Fifty thousand in stacks of ten thousand a stack. One ring box containing one wedding and engagement ring. Some pretty expensive women’s jewelry. An insurance policy for two million dollars. His…”

“Wait,” Eli said. “Who is the beneficiary?”

“Rosa Garcia,” Roscoe said. “As of a month ago. Prior to that it was blank.”

“Blank?”

“That’s what I said, Lieutenant. Blank.”

“What else?”

“His portfolio of investments and statements,” Roscoe said. “He was worth close to eight million dollars. Bank records of transactions, that kind of stuff. One key that I believe is for a bank safe deposit box.”

“Is that it?”

“That’s it.”

“What bank?”

“Manhattan First, according to the stamp.”

“Let me have the key,” Eli said.

Roscoe gave him the key.

“I’ll take the insurance police, bank records and rings,” Eli said. “I’ll have my guys bag the rest into evidence.”

Roscoe nodded. “Anything else?”

“You can count on that,” Eli said.

*****

Eli read the insurance police at his desk. Tanner purchased the policy five years ago, but hadn’t included a beneficiary until recently when he added Rosa Garcia’s name.

His initial thoughts on the rings proved incorrect. His first reaction was the rings belonged to Tanner’s wife and he saved them as keepsakes. However, the rings were new, less than two months old and purchased at Tiffany’s for six thousand dollars according to the receipt folded inside the box.

“Six grand?” Eli said aloud. “It takes me ten months to make six grand.”

He read through the financial reports. Most of it didn’t make sense to him. A lot of buying and selling of stocks and commodities. He would have to get in touch with the financial banker to spell it all out.

Eli made a note of the banker’s name. Leo Carson Jr. His office was on Park Avenue South.

Eli stood for a moment and stretched. He lit a cigarette and went to the window. A wino was asleep on a bench across the street in the tiny park that faced headquarters.

There was a knock on the door and a detective named Tyler entered carrying a cardboard box. “The stuff we gathered from Tanner’s apartment,” he said and set it on Eli’s desk.

“Anything interesting?” Eli asked.

Tyler shrugged.

“Okay, thanks,” Eli said.

Tyler left the office and closed the door.

Eli emptied the box on his desk. There were two date books. One for business, the other personal. The business date book had regular appointments with Carson Jr., along with appointments with a real estate agency. There was no name, just the name of the agency. The West Side Real Estate Agency, located on West 57^th Street.

In the personal date book, Tanner wrote everything down. Everything from haircuts to trips to his shirt maker to what brands of cigars he wanted to buy.

It was apparent to Eli that Tanner forgot more than his cigars on a regular basis and needed to write everything down to remind himself.

Eli opened the photo album. There were dozens of family photos of his parents and his wife. Nothing unusual and nothing out of the ordinary.

He picked up the large envelope marked contents of pockets and dumped it. One thousand dollars in twenty dollar bills rolled and held in place with a rubber band. Five hundred dollars in his wallet. His driver’s license and a New York City issued gun permit. His check book with one hundred thousand dollars in the account. A gold Zippo lighter, the real thing.

Eli picked up the phone and called the squad room. Tyler picked up.

“Hey, get in here,” Eli said.

Tyler came in a few seconds later.

“His car keys, where are they?” Eli asked.

“They weren’t on the body or in the car,” Tyler said. “Or on the ground.”

“He has a gun permit, does he own a gun?”

“I don’t know, Lieutenant.”

“Find out.”

“It’s ten o’clock at night,” Tyler said.

“In the morning then.”

Tyler nodded and returned to the squad room.

Eli took his chair and lit a fresh cigarette.

Who wanted to kill this Guy?

What was the motive?

Where are his keys?

Where is his gun?

Eli picked up the phone and called Wilson.

“Don’t you ever go home?” Wilson said.

“On his body, did you find a set of keys?” Eli asked.

“If I had I would have already given them to you,” Wilson said.

“Thanks.”

Eli hung up the phone.

‘In the morning then’ sounded like a good idea.

Chapter Four

The apartment was a fucking oven. There was no other way to describe it when Eli opened the door and stepped inside.

He went to the kitchen and turned on the wall fan. He took a bottle of milk from the fridge and filled a glass and added two ice cubes from the freezer, sat at the table and took out his cigarettes.

Eli sipped icy cold milk, lit a cigarette and thought for a while.

Tanner wasn’t robbed.

He was killed for another reason.

Money?

Power?

Lust?

Envy?

Revenge?

A rainbow of motives.

None of them on the surface seemed to fit.

On the surface.

Tomorrow was another day.

Tomorrow he would start to scratch below the surface and look for the pus that always bubbled up.

Eli finished the glass of milk, turned off the fan and went to the bedroom. He turned on the fan beside the bed, stripped down to his tee-shirt and underwear and flipped down the sheets.

The fan cooled his body, but even so he was sweating heavily.

Exhaustion won over sweat and he felt his eyes grow heavy and Eli drifted off to sleep.

*****

The fucking Germans just wouldn’t quit. Eli’s unit, the 1^st Ranger Battalion invaded Sicily with the idea of capturing the town of Butera and the harbor at Porto Empedolce.

The fighting went on for days. The Germans just wouldn’t quit. They had to know the war was lost, but they just wouldn’t surrender. In the end, his unit took seven hundred prisoners and killed four times that amount.

Afterward, when the smoke cleared and the fighting ended, Eli and his unit had to do the unthinkable.

The German Army used more horses than any other force. They had more than a million horses in military service. The Rangers had to kill the wounded horses on the battlefield.

Screaming horses in pain, limbs missing, stomachs blown open, they would simply end their misery with a shot to the head.

Eli remembered crying with each horse that he killed.

There was no reprieve, either.

Rangers took far longer to train so reinforcements were few and far between.

Rest was out of the question for Rangers. His unit, along with eight other Ranger units was sent to join the 29^th Infantry at Omaha Beach for the D Day invasion.

The Navy bombed the shit out of the beach before the landing, but overall it was inadequate in accomplishing the goal.

The Germans had eighty-five machine guns scattered throughout the beachhead and they put them to good use.

Hundreds died in the water without ever setting foot on sand.

Hundreds more died on the beachheads.

The engineers suffered forty percent casualties.

The Rangers captured the beachhead but at a great cost.

One soldier near Eli took a German .25 caliber bullet in his penis. He lay in the sand crying for someone to please kill him. Eli crawled to him and called for a medic.

The soldier screamed he didn’t want a medic; he wanted Eli to shoot him. Begged him to shoot him.

Because, how can I go home to my wife without a dick?

Eli crawled back to his men and the soldier took out his .45 caliber pistol and put a bullet in his brain.

*****

Eli woke in a cold sweat.

The sheets were soaked.

The fan blowing on him gave him chills.

He went to the kitchen for another glass of milk. At the table, Eli smoked a cigarette and sipped the milk.

The car door was open, but Tanner didn’t have his car keys.

He had fifteen hundred dollars and a gold lighter in his pockets.

He was stabbed in the spleen and died of a broken neck.

The attacker knew exactly where and when Tanner would be on Sunday at four o’clock in the afternoon.

The kitchen was stifling. He took the milk to the window for a breath of air. Even at two in the morning the street was lit up by traffic lights, street lamps and even traffic.

He forgot his cigars; maybe he forgot his keys as well?

But the car door was open.

The motive for the attack wasn’t robbery. The damn lighter cost more than Eli’s suits.

That he was attacked from behind meant Tanner didn’t know his attacker.

Unless he did know him and Tanner turned his back on the man to allow him to get into the car.

Rosa would have mentioned it if Tanner was meeting someone. That someone would have been seen entering the building and wasn’t.

Eli turned away from the window and put the empty glass in the sink.

He returned to bed and smoked another cigarette in bed in front of the fan. He wanted to sleep, needed the sleep, but he was afraid of another bad dream. The war had been over for more than four years, but he still lived it nearly every day.

The dead.

The destruction.

The wounded.

The battles he fought in, the men he killed, it lived in his mind as if it all happened just yesterday.

Over there killing was expected. It was your duty to kill. Back home it was a terrible crime punishable by life in prison or death.

Eli crushed the cigarette out in an ashtray and went back to sleep.

*****

Eli was out of bed at five-thirty, a habit he acquired as a Ranger that he couldn’t seem to break. He made a small pot of coffee and drank two cups at the table and smoked two cigarettes.

As the sun broke, he performed his daily routine.

One hundred pushups.

One hundred situps.

One hundred squats holding a sixteen pound medicine ball.

He attached the portable pull-up bar to the bathroom door frame and did fifty pull-ups, followed by fifty chin-ups.

On Saturday, he did the routine twice, in the morning and in the evening.

Then he shaved, took a shower and dressed in a summer suit, charcoal grey with a dark tie.

He only had breakfast in the apartment on weekends.

On the way to his car, Eli stopped at the corner coffee shop and picked up a bacon and egg sandwich and a container of coffee and ate on the drive into Manhattan.

*****

The captain who lived a short distance from headquarters was already in his office by the time Eli arrived.

“I’ll be running down leads most of the day,” Eli said. “Okay if I team Bannon and Tyler to tie up some loose ends for me.”

“Do whatever you have to,” Howe said. “After I hold a press conference the press will have a field day with this one.”

“I’ll call in with my locations,” Eli said.

He left Howe’s office and went to the squad room. Jack Bannon and Tyler were at their desks.

“Jack, Tyler, a moment,” Eli said.

Bannon and Tyler followed Eli to his desk.

Eli handed Bannon the safe deposit box key. “Jack, two things,” Eli said. “Head over to the bank and check the contents of this box and bag it into evidence. Then run down Tanner’s gun permit.”

“You got it,” Bannon said.

“Tyler, see what you can find out about the knife from Wilson,” Eli said. “Then head over to Tiffany’s about the rings.”

“Okay, Lieutenant,” Tyler said.

“Meet me back here around four,” Eli said.

*****

Rosa Garcia wore white slacks and a sleeveless blouse when she opened the door to Eli.

Her eyes were still puffy and swollen, but she put on a small smile for Eli.

“Do you have some time for me?” Eli asked. “I have some questions that need to be asked.”

“Please come in,” Rosa said. “I just made coffee.”

They went to the kitchen. Rosa filled two cups with coffee and they sat at the table.

“I think most of last night and again this morning about what you say,” Rosa said. “I can think of no one who would hurt Roger.”

Eli nodded as he took out his pad and pen.

“I have a few details I need to clear up,” Eli said.

Rosa nodded.

“Mr. Tanner’s car keys were not found with his body,” Eli said.

“His keys?”

“The suspect didn’t take anything from his clothing, so I doubt he took the keys,” Eli said.

“Come,” Rosa said.

Eli followed her to the master bedroom.

“The little box on the dresser,” Rosa said. “He keep his tie pins and cuff links in the little box. Every night he put the car keys in there. He always forgets his keys and have to come back for them. Like his cigars. He very forgetful all the time.”

Eli opened the box. Mixed in with the tie pins and cuff links was a set of keys.

“The car door was open,” Eli said.

“He never lock the car when in the garage,” Rosa said.

They returned to the kitchen.

Eli lit a cigarette and Rose put an ashtray on the table.

“Rosa, I have reason to believe that Mr. Tanner was about to ask you to marry him,” Eli said.

Rosa stared at him. Her bottom lip quivered a bit, but she held her composure.

“Had he asked, what would you have said?”

“I would have said yes,” Rosa said. “Roger was a very kind man. A woman could do worse than marry a wealthy man who love her and who is very kind.”

“He told you he loved you?”

Rosa nodded. “Many times.”

“Did you love him?”

“Not at first,” Rosa said. “But, yes, I love him. He tell me he wanted children. I would have given him many. He used to say I have the hips for children.”

“It’s too complicated to go into right now, an attorney will do that, but Mr. Tanner left you well taken care of,” Eli said.

“I don’t … what that mean?” Rosa said.

“In his will,” Eli said.

Rosa sighed and held back her tears.

“Mr. Tanner owned a gun,” Eli said. “Did you know that?”

“Yes, I know that,” Rosa said. “He only carry it when we go out together to dinner or a show. He say he bring it to protect me.”

“He never carried it otherwise?”

“No.”

“Do you know where he kept it?”

“The medicine cabinet,” Rosa said.

“The … show me.”

They returned to the master bedroom and entered the large bathroom. Above the sink was a wall-mounted, large medicine cabinet.

“Open the door,” Rosa said.

Eli opened the door. It held the usual stuff.

“On the right is a button. Push it,” Rosa said.

Eli felt for the button, pushed it and a second, hidden door opened. On a shelf was a gun box and a box of ammunition.

Eli removed the gun box and opened it. Inside was a .32 caliber revolver.

“I’ll have to take these with me,” Eli said.

Rosa nodded. “Is okay,” she said. “I never touch them.”

Eli took the gun box and ammunition with him when they returned to the kitchen.

“More coffee?” Rosa asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

They sat at the table and Eli lit another cigarette.

“I’ll be seeing Mr. Tanner’s attorney this morning,” Eli said. “His name is Gitter. I will ask him to call you.”

“You have been very kind,” Rosa said.

*****

Sometimes life is kind and throws you an unexpected bone. Gitter’s office was on the twelfth floor in the same Park Avenue South building as Tanner’s banker, Leo Carson Jr.

As Eli rode up on an elevator, he wouldn’t have bet himself that lawyer and banker knew each other quite well.

Gitter’s office door was frosted glass. His name Martin Gitter was etched into the glass and painted in gold.

The receptionist asked Eli if he had an appointment.

Eli showed her his badge. She picked up the phone and made a call. When she hung up, she smiled and said, “Mr. Gitter is in.”

She took Eli down a long hallway to an office and opened the door.

“Is it true?” Gitter asked. “What I just heard on the news about Roger Tanner.”

“It’s true,” Eli said. “That’s why I’m here.”

Gitter was around six-years-old, had graying hair and wore thick glasses.

“Please sit and tell me what happened,” Gitter said.

“What you heard on the news is what happened,” Eli said.

“Jesus Christ, why?” Gitter said.

“I can’t get into that,” Eli said. “I’d like to know about his insurance policy and his will. I saw the policy for two million. You as his lawyer witnessed it. What’s in his will?”

Gitter picked up his phone. “Bring me the complete file on Roger Tanner please,” he said.

“When did you last see Mr. Tanner?” Eli asked.

“About two months ago when he amended his will,” Gitter said.

The door opened and the receptionist entered with a large folder and set it on the desk. “Will that be all?”

Gitter nodded.

He opened the file and removed the documents.

“Basically half of Tanner’s worth goes to various charities,” Gitter said. “The other half goes to Rosa Garcia.”

“Including the two million insurance policy?”

“She gets all of that plus the half,” Gitter said. “He loved her. He was going to propose to her on her birthday.”

“Did he tell you that?”

Gitter nodded.

“Is she … is she a suspect?” he asked.

“Not at the moment,” Eli said. “Can you make me a copy of the will?”

Gitter nodded.

“When will you contact Rosa Garcia about the contents of the will?” Eli asked.

“As soon as you tell me it’s okay to do so,” Gitter said.

“In a few days,” Eli said. “Do you know Leo Carson Jr.?”

“Of course,” Gitter said. “I recommended him to Roger years ago.”

“What about enemies Mr. Tanner may have had?” Eli said.

“This city is full of people who despise the rich,” Gitter said.

*****

“I just heard the news driving in to the office,” Leo Carson Jr. said when Eli entered his office. “I can’t believe it. Roger Tanner. Jesus.”

“When did you see him last?”

“Couple of weeks,” Carson said. “We had an appointment for this Friday.”

“I saw that in his date book.”

Carson wasn’t what Eli expected. For one thing he was about seventy-years-old and the use of the title junior gave Eli the impression of a much younger man.

“Mr. Carson, what did you do for Mr. Tanner?” Eli asked.

“It’s not complicated, really,” Carson said. “I helped him manage his money and investments. Stocks, bonds, properties, things like that. In the past five years we’ve doubled his wealth.”

“You said properties,” Eli said. “Such as?”

“We talked about him buying a home on Long Island for him and Miss Garcia to live in after they were married,” Carson said. “And he was interested in buying property in the city for investment purposes.”

“With the West Side Real Estate Agency?” Eli said.

“Yes, exactly,” Carson said. “My job is to manage Mr. Tanner’s funds so that he can grow his wealth while at the same time buy the things he needs and wants.”

“It doesn’t sound so simple to me,” Eli said.

“What about you, detective? Do you have anything besides your pension for your retirement?” Carson said. “I can set up an account for you. A nest egg, if you will.”

“When I’m finished with this case, maybe I’ll come see you,” Eli said.

“You do that,” Carson said.

“Would you happen to know how much Mr. Tanner paid for rent at the Charter Arms?” Eli asked.

“Two thousand a month,” Carson said.

“Every month?”

“That’s correct. Every month.”

“My car cost half a month of his rent,” Eli said.

“Let me open an account for you and you could drive a better car,” Carson said.

“Can you think of any enemies Mr. Tanner may have had?” Eli asked.

“Anyone in this city who doesn’t like rich people,” Carson said.

*****

The West Side Real Estate Agency was located in the Flatiron Building on Fifth Avenue and 23^rd Street. Part of the triangular building faced Fifth Avenue, the other part faced Broadway.

The West Side Real Estate Agency was located on the eleventh floor facing Broadway.

The real estate agent handling Tanner’s affairs was a woman named Pamela Kohn and she reminded Eli of his mother.

“I heard the news just a little while,” Kohn said. “To say it’s shocking is an understatement. I’m at a loss for sure.”

Eli looked around the large room and counted a dozen empty desks. “Are you the only one here?”

“I’m the boss,” Kohn said. “All of my agents are in the field, so to speak. Let’s go to my office.”

Eli followed Kohn into her office. The windows faced Broadway. They were closed to keep out the noise of traffic. An overhead fan cooled the room.

Kohn took her seat behind her desk. Eli took a chair facing it.

“The radio said Mr. Tanner was murdered in the parking garage of his building,” Kohn said. “Who the hell would want to kill Roger Tanner?”

“That’s what I intend to find out,” Eli said. “What did you do for Mr. Tanner?”

“He was interested in a home on Long Island,” Kohn said. “He wanted to surprise Miss Garcia with it as a wedding gift. He planned to drive her to the house and propose to her in the living room. When he told me his plans I nearly cried.”

“I was told he was interested in real estate as investments,” Eli said.

“Yes. He invested in several building in Manhattan,” Kohn said. “He was about to purchase an eight-story building as a condo.”

“What’s a condo?” Eli asked.

“A condominium.”

“Okay, what’s a condominium?”

“Each apartment in a building is for sale like homes,” Kohn said. “Instead of buying a home a person buys the apartment. Every tenant owns their apartment and a fee is paid to a board every month for maintenance of the building.”

“And Mr. Tanner was interested in buying an apartment?”

“Good heavens, no. The entire building,” Kohn said. “We would then sell each apartment for a tidy profit.”

“How much for the building?”

“The one he was interested in was in the West Village,” Kohn said. “About eighty thousand I believe.”

“He was a smart man, Mr. Tanner,” Eli said.

“As smart as they come when it came to business,” Kohn said. “But more than that. He was honest and fair man. Smart, honest and fair are hard to come by.”

“Did you know if he had any enemies?” Eli asked.

“If he did, I wasn’t aware of any,” Kohn said. “Except for people who don’t like the rich.”

*****

On the way back to his office, Eli stopped at the diner on Seventh Avenue and 23^rd Street and grabbed a burger. The afternoon edition of the newspapers were out and he grabbed a copy of The Daily Mirror.

He ate at the counter and read the lead story on Tanner’s murder. Apparently the entire city was shocked over the incident. Last month seven winos were rolled and killed on The Bowery and nobody batted an eye.

Tanner was rich. The winos were not. Tanner got the headlines. The winos got lost in the shuffle and buried at the city’s expense.

The diner had good looking apple pie and Eli had a slice for dessert.

*****

Bannon and Tyler were waiting for Eli when he returned to the office.

“The captain wants to see us,” Bannon said.

Eli made his report first.

“I hate it when the victim comes off looking like a saint,” Howe said. “The fucking newspapers harp on it for all its worth.”

Bannon went next. “I ran down his gun permit. Issued out of Albany. He belonged to a gun club in Westchester County where he purchased the .32 caliber revolver. The safe deposit box at First Manhattan had original documents of all his stuff. His will, finances, things like that. No cash, no jewelry, just documents. I have it in evidence.”

“You said original documents,” Howe said.

“It’s easy to make as many copies as you want using the mimeograph machine,” Eli said. “They are as good as the original. They say by nineteen fifty this company called Xerox will come out with a self contained copy machine.”

“As fascinating as that is, it tells us what about a suspect?” Howe said. He looked at Tyler. “What do you got?”

“I went to Tiffany’s about the ring,” Tyler said. “He bought it for the woman all right. Cost a bundle. Then I headed over to see Wilson. He still doesn’t know what type of knife was used, but I have a theory. Wilson said the wound went in just over fifteen inches. So I went home and checked my souvenirs.”

“Your souvenirs?” Howe said.

“I was in the 101^st Airborne,” Tyler said. “We got dropped all over the fucking place on D Day. Everywhere except the drop zone. It was a total fucking mess. You should have been there.”

“Detective Tyler, my blood pressure is high enough,” Howe said. “Get to the point, please.”

“I brought home a bayonet I took off a Kraut I killed on D Day,” Tyler said. “I measured it and it’s exactly fifteen and a quarter inches long. I got it in my desk.”

“Get it,” Howe said.

While Tyler left Howe’s office, Eli lit a cigarette.

“What do you think?” Howe asked.

“I’ve seen a lot of German bayonets,” Eli said. “It could fit.”

Tyler returned with the bayonet in a paper bag. He removed the bag and handed the bayonet to Howe.

“Did you show this to Wilson?” Howe asked.

“Not yet,” Tyler said.

“Get it over to him, see what he says,” Howe said.

“Jack, what’s that gun club in Westchester?” Eli asked.

*****

Driving back to the office from the Westchester Rod and Gun Club in Yonkers, Eli replayed his conversation with the manager in his mind.

Roger Tanner became a member a little more than a year ago. He told the manager he was interested in learning to shoot, but wanted nothing large. The manager showed him the .32, which he later purchased.

At first, Tanner couldn’t hit a barn from six feet away. With practice over time, he became a pretty good shot. He purchased the .32 directly from the club.

When in the club, Tanner rarely spoke to anyone except the instructors.

The manager was sorry to hear what happened to him.

Except for Tyler, the office was empty when Eli arrived in the squad room.

Tyler was at his desk, typing a report.

Eli sat on the edge of the desk and lit a cigarette. “How did you make out?”

“Wilson said the Kraut bayonet is the murder weapon, no doubt,” Tyler said.

“Not an American bayonet?”

“You carried one, same as me. Ours are very different,” Tyler said. “Ours is only ten inches long tip to handle.”

“Is that what you’re typing?”

“Yeah. Almost done.”

“Tomorrow, you and Jack call every pawn shop and Army/Navy store in the five boroughs,” Eli said. “See who bought and sold German bayonets.”

“A lot of guys brought back their own same as me,” Tyler said.

“I know, but we can’t knock on the door of every GI in the city and ask to see their war trinkets,” Eli said.

Tyler removed the report from the typewriter and set it on the desk. “I’m going home,” he said. “I’m bushed.”

Alone, Eli went to his desk, picked up the phone and made a call.

“This is Mavis,” the woman on the other end said.

“It’s Eli. Are you free?”

“I’m free,” Mavis said.

“I’ll be right over,” Eli said.

“I’ll have a hot bath waiting,” Mavis said and hung up.