Read Online ER - A Murder Too Personal by Gerald J Davis - Free Book Online
Authors: Gerald J Davis
Tags: Crime
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never be dependent on a man again and that
she was willing to take certain risks to achieve that. How much
risk would she have taken? Rachel shook her head. She had no idea.
In my experience, some people would risk a lot to be
independent.
When we reached Seventy-second, I stopped and
turned for a minute and looked South toward my office building some
thirty blocks away down Park Avenue. I could see my window still
lit up. How many evenings had I sat in that room? Close to ten
years worth. Putting pieces together, asking questions, jumping to
hasty conclusions, busting chops. I shrugged without moving my
shoulders. It all meant very little, after all.
Then Rachel told me she lived at Park and
Seventy-third. It was a pre-war building with huge apartments that
cost large sums of ill-gotten money.
“You own your apartment?” I asked.
She nodded wordlessly. The girl obviously had
some independent means. What I was curious about was how she got
it.
“You live alone?”
She nodded again.
“I want to see you tomorrow,” I said. “I need
more answers.”
She gave me a look that asked why at the same
time that it knew the answer. “Is that all you need?” She laughed a
sweet, delicate laugh.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I said.
She nodded. But her eyes were tough to
read.
CHAPTER XI
It was almost seven in the morning and I was
finishing my second cup of real coffee when the doorman buzzed me
from the lobby.
“Detective Forgash is here to see you, Mr.
Rogan,” came John’s voice with its rich Irish brogue over the
intercom.
“Send the lowlife up.”
When I opened the door, Forgash brushed past
me and walked through the foyer into the living room. He didn’t
look like he was bringing me any chocolate chip cookies.
“What? No Good Morning greeting?” I gave him
what I thought was a real warm grin. I was always told that a host
should make his guest feel welcome.
“Listen, scumbag. Stay out of my fucking
case. You understand me clearly?”
I used to dislike him intensely. Now I was
starting to like him even a little bit less.
“I thought by now you’d be pounding a beat on
Tremont Avenue.”
He scowled at me. “Don’t be a wiseguy.”
“I’m not. For you that would be a
promotion.”
He sized me up. Contemplating… Those thin
little seamstress fingers were clenching and unclenching rapidly.
“Somebody made an unauthorized entry into that fucking apartment.
Somebody who didn’t belong there.” He looked like he wanted to slug
me one. “I know it was you. It had to be you. Nobody else would be
that dumb.”
His eyes made darting glances around the
room. “You think you’re a real fucking hotshot, don’t you?” he said
in a squeaky voice that rose as he kept talking. “I could bust you
for a stunt like that.”
“If you don’t have some sort of signed and
sealed document from a judge in your sweet little hand, I’d suggest
you depart the premises,” I said. “Right now, if not sooner,
cretin.”
He blinked a couple of times and started to
talk. “Listen to me, Rogan…”
I’d heard just about all I needed or wanted
to hear from him. I slapped my right hand on his left shoulder and
spun him around before he had a chance to get his balance, like I
was going to give him a prostate exam. His muscles tensed. He was
considering whether it was worth it to take me on.
What were the odds?
I was bigger and heavier. My hundred
ninety-five to his, what?, one sixty-five. I could probably put him
away inside of a minute. Besides, how could he explain a fight in a
premises he’d entered without legal justification?
His body relaxed under my grip. That was my
cue to grab his other shoulder and shove him out the door. He
didn’t resist. One final push and he was halfway out into the
hallway.
“Your ass is grass, scumbag,” he yelled. “You
ain’t quit with me yet. I’m gonna prove you killed her, Rogan. I’m
gonna take you down.” A vein was throbbing in his
she was willing to take certain risks to achieve that. How much
risk would she have taken? Rachel shook her head. She had no idea.
In my experience, some people would risk a lot to be
independent.
When we reached Seventy-second, I stopped and
turned for a minute and looked South toward my office building some
thirty blocks away down Park Avenue. I could see my window still
lit up. How many evenings had I sat in that room? Close to ten
years worth. Putting pieces together, asking questions, jumping to
hasty conclusions, busting chops. I shrugged without moving my
shoulders. It all meant very little, after all.
Then Rachel told me she lived at Park and
Seventy-third. It was a pre-war building with huge apartments that
cost large sums of ill-gotten money.
“You own your apartment?” I asked.
She nodded wordlessly. The girl obviously had
some independent means. What I was curious about was how she got
it.
“You live alone?”
She nodded again.
“I want to see you tomorrow,” I said. “I need
more answers.”
She gave me a look that asked why at the same
time that it knew the answer. “Is that all you need?” She laughed a
sweet, delicate laugh.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I said.
She nodded. But her eyes were tough to
read.
CHAPTER XI
It was almost seven in the morning and I was
finishing my second cup of real coffee when the doorman buzzed me
from the lobby.
“Detective Forgash is here to see you, Mr.
Rogan,” came John’s voice with its rich Irish brogue over the
intercom.
“Send the lowlife up.”
When I opened the door, Forgash brushed past
me and walked through the foyer into the living room. He didn’t
look like he was bringing me any chocolate chip cookies.
“What? No Good Morning greeting?” I gave him
what I thought was a real warm grin. I was always told that a host
should make his guest feel welcome.
“Listen, scumbag. Stay out of my fucking
case. You understand me clearly?”
I used to dislike him intensely. Now I was
starting to like him even a little bit less.
“I thought by now you’d be pounding a beat on
Tremont Avenue.”
He scowled at me. “Don’t be a wiseguy.”
“I’m not. For you that would be a
promotion.”
He sized me up. Contemplating… Those thin
little seamstress fingers were clenching and unclenching rapidly.
“Somebody made an unauthorized entry into that fucking apartment.
Somebody who didn’t belong there.” He looked like he wanted to slug
me one. “I know it was you. It had to be you. Nobody else would be
that dumb.”
His eyes made darting glances around the
room. “You think you’re a real fucking hotshot, don’t you?” he said
in a squeaky voice that rose as he kept talking. “I could bust you
for a stunt like that.”
“If you don’t have some sort of signed and
sealed document from a judge in your sweet little hand, I’d suggest
you depart the premises,” I said. “Right now, if not sooner,
cretin.”
He blinked a couple of times and started to
talk. “Listen to me, Rogan…”
I’d heard just about all I needed or wanted
to hear from him. I slapped my right hand on his left shoulder and
spun him around before he had a chance to get his balance, like I
was going to give him a prostate exam. His muscles tensed. He was
considering whether it was worth it to take me on.
What were the odds?
I was bigger and heavier. My hundred
ninety-five to his, what?, one sixty-five. I could probably put him
away inside of a minute. Besides, how could he explain a fight in a
premises he’d entered without legal justification?
His body relaxed under my grip. That was my
cue to grab his other shoulder and shove him out the door. He
didn’t resist. One final push and he was halfway out into the
hallway.
“Your ass is grass, scumbag,” he yelled. “You
ain’t quit with me yet. I’m gonna prove you killed her, Rogan. I’m
gonna take you down.” A vein was throbbing in his
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