Read Online Echoes of My Soul by Robert K. Tanenbaum - Free Book Online

something his sister, Blanche, a psychologist, had said the day before. They were discussing the Wylie-Hoffert case, which the media, in its frenzied sensationalism, referred to as the “Career Girls Murders.” It was still a popular talking piece in New York that summer; and given that his sister worked just a few blocks from where the murders had occurred, it had grown to become somewhat of a family fixation. Glass had a friend, Detective John Justy, of the Nineteenth Precinct Detective Squad, who had been assigned to the Wylie-Hoffert case as the NYPD liaison to the deceaseds’ families. Justy familiarized himself with the investigative facts of the case. Through him, Mel managed to visualize the extreme violence involved and found himself, not unlike many others, haunted by the idea of it. But what troubled him now wasn’t the crime itself but the crime scene. Just the night before, his sister had said very directly, “From what you’re telling me, the killer was compulsively clean, and that’s something right there.” That’s something, all right, Mel thought as the train pulled into the City Hall/Brooklyn Bridge Station. He exited the train and walked along the platform, pushing through the turnstile and racing up the stairs to the warm concrete of Centre Street. He jogged south, half a block, and entered the district attorney’s office and quickly headed up to court.
    On his way into the courtroom, he ran into his bureau chief, Jim Yeargin, a tall, athletic, gentle, light-skinned black man, who had served in the Homicide Bureau for many years with distinction before being designated to run the Felony Trial Bureau, where Glass was now assigned.
    â€œMel, I expect you to lead by example. You know what they say about those early birds. We’ve got to get in court before those ‘black robers’ grab their gavels and take the helm,” he said with a mischievous grin.
    â€œCarpool fell through—won’t happen again,” Glass answered, panting.
    ADA Glass gripped the sweaty handle of his briefcase, breezed into the crowded courtroom, secured the prosecution table and was ready to represent the People, just as the judge tapped on the gavel and called for order.
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    â€œOne meatball sandwich.”
    Mel glanced up from his desk to find Detective John Justy, his good friend, balancing a tray of food before him, replete with sodas. He pulled out a chair across from Mel’s desk and eased into his seat, setting the food on the desk, along with an open pack of Lucky Strikes and some matches. Mel gathered his paperwork and set it aside.
    â€œWhere’d you go? Poughkeepsie?”
    â€œVery funny. Uncle Tony’s was packed today, Mel. It’s summertime—Jesus, everybody’s down there but us.”
    Mel could smell the aftershave Justy had obviously drenched himself in and arched back in his chair. Justy wore his usual white shirt, which contrasted smartly with his nifty executive-style vested suit. Justy loosened his paisley tie at his throat.
    â€œHeard you were running a little late this morning, ADA Glass.”
    Mel waved his hand dismissively and grinned. “I don’t know where you heard that rumor.”
    Justy took a bite of his pastrami sandwich and through steady chews added, “How’s that wife of yours?”
    â€œPregnant.” Mel took a plastic knife and cut his sandwich in half.
    â€œWhen’s she due?”
    â€œEnd of the summer—thank God. Betty’s doing well and little Elizabeth’s excited, but unsure if she wants a baby brother or sister.”
    Justy chuckled. For the next few minutes, all was silent in ADA Glass’s office, except for the sound of sandwiches being gulped down and the whir of a small fan that rested in the back corner. Eventually, while sipping their soft drinks, the two men began discussing the Wylie-Hoffert case.
    Pensively and almost imperceptibly, Mel edged his