Chapter 11

When Jack emerged from his office, Spence flicked a hand at his computer monitor. ‘Have a guess who is in the crowd of onlookers on 2nd Avenue…’ Spence said, albeit rhetorically.

‘You’re kidding,’ Jack said. He scurried around to Spence’s side of the desk and knelt to view the footage.

Spence hit play. ‘This angle is facing North up 2nd Avenue. It’s the best angle because it captured the majority of the crowd of onlookers…’ Spence said.

As the footage played Spence tapped the screen. ‘There…’ He hit pause on the playback. ‘Standing about three deep, on the right… Who does that look like to you…?’

Jack moved closer to the screen. He shook a frustrated head. He removed his reading glasses from his shirt pocket and slipped them on. ‘I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again…Fuck old age, Spence…’

Jack re-focused on the screen. ‘You’re shitting me…’ Jack said. ‘ADA Phil Box… That’s unmistakably him. Well I’ll be fucked…’

‘You can clearly see him approach the crowd from this direction, from up north and wander up to watch proceedings,’ Spence said.

‘How long does he remain there…?’

Spence hit fast forward. The footage shuffled though. Spence hit stop when the ADA left the area. He checked the time stamp. ‘Twenty-five minutes…’

‘Clearly interested in what was happening,’ Jack said. ‘Which way did he leave?’

‘Back up north…’

Jack’s office desk phone began to warble. Jack looked across to Pete Unly, sitting opposite. ‘Pick that up for me will ya, Pete. Thanks.’ Jack returned his focus to the monitor. ‘So based on what Galatea told us, ADA Box made a comment about the judge needed to be taken out by a hit… The judge gets hit and ADA Box happened to wander by the crime scene afterwards… Is that a coincidence…? Could it be possible he arranged a hit, then turned up to check everything went as planned…?’

‘Not sure. Could be… Only one way to find out, Jobs. We gotta bring him in.’

Jack rubbed contemplative hand across his mouth. ‘How long after the shooting did Box arrive…?’

Spence checked the footage time stamp. ‘Ahh. Box arrived at 9.45pm. So about thirty-five minutes after…’

‘And he came from the area north…?’

‘Correct.’

‘Just putting it out there… Could Box be the shooter?’ Spence raised a single cynical eyebrow. ’No. Listen… Hear me out here… Could he have shot the judge… Ran north up 2nd into East 45th… Got changed….’ Jack said with deliberate emphasis. ‘Then casually wandered back down to watch proceedings…’

‘You know what… I doubt it. I really do. But at this early stage, nothing is off the table.’

Unly finished scribbling his notes then hung up the phone. ‘Ah, jobs… Things are getting more interesting…’

Jack stood up from kneeling. He moved towards Unly. ‘Is that a job…?’

‘It is… That was Donohue from down in uniform. He’s out in Greenwich Village. The principal from Thomas, Fletcher & McCartney called the cops when one of their lawyers failed to show up for work this morning. They tried to call him without any success, so they sent the cops around.’

‘OK… So, what have we got?’

‘The first responders found the employee dead in his apartment. Single shot to the head. They said it appeared as though he was shot through the door peep hole.’

‘One shot only… OK. So it doesn’t appear to be our shooter from this one…’ Jack flicked his hand towards Spence’s monitor.

‘The vic was Seamus O’Brien…’ Unly said.

Jack frowned. ‘Why do I know that name?’

‘You remember… He was the defense lawyer in that case Judge Davis threw out. The one you asked me about earlier…’

Jack’s face tightened. ‘Ah, right… Wait. Let me see if I’ve got this right,’ Jack began. He perched himself on the front of Spence’s desk. ‘Judge Davis throws a case out…’ Jack jabbed his thumb over a shoulder towards the monitor on Spence’s desk. ‘ADA Box makes some sort of comment about the Judge being hit… Last Saturday the judge was hit—execution style. And now the lawyer who defended that same case that was thrown out, has also been shot and killed… These two have to be linked…We gotta speak to Box,’ Jack said.

‘But it was only a single shot… The judge had a triple tap,’ Spence said.

‘It’s not unusual for a hitman to fire a single kill shot… One through the door peep hole into the eye will do that.’

Spence nodded his agreement. ‘True.’

Jack returned to his office to collect his firearm and vehicle keys. When he returned he held out his hand to Peter Unly. ‘Ya got the details of the Greenwich Village job…?’

Unly scribbled on a post-it note and handed it to Jack.

Jack glanced at Spence. ‘Coming…’ he said as he moved towards the exit.

Spence lifted his suit jacket from the back of his chair and met Jack as he exited the office.

---

Spence took the scenic route along West Street, which traveled along the Hudson, for their fifteen-minute drive up to Greenwich Village.

As they drove, they discussed the CCTV from 2nd Avenue.

‘What’s your thoughts on ADA Box…?’ Jack asked.

Spence held off his reply while he concentrated on giving way to a turning vehicle. ‘You mean… Him being in the crowd at the crime scene, watching on…?’

‘Yep. That, and what Galatea said. I mean, If we hadn’t run into Galatea at Rosie’s, we wouldn’t have given it a second thought if we spotted Box in the crowd. If I was there and not involved, I’d probably stop for a look, too.’

‘But he was there… And he did make those comments about a hit on the judge,’ Spence said.

‘I can’t for the life of me see Box arranging a hitman. I doubt he’d even know where, or how to find one,’ Jack said,

‘I’d have to agree… But that doesn’t change the fact he was in amongst the crowd of people watching the aftermath. At the very least, given what Galatea told us, Box has to explain why he was there,’ Spence said.

‘Agree.’

‘Just putting this out there, Jobs…’ Spence began. He paused to check his mirrors before changing lanes. ‘So far, the judge and lawyer from the case that was thrown out, have been killed…’

‘Yep…’

‘That only leaves the defendant from that thrown out case…? Isn’t he at risk, as well…?’

Jack took a moment to process Spence’s comment. ‘You’re probably right. Based on what we know, two of the three people involved, other than ADA Box of course, are dead…’ Jack removed his cell and called Peter Unly.

‘Pete. Jack. Yeah good… Do me a favor… The case we were talking about earlier… Look up the name of the piece shit whose case it was the judge threw out…’ Jack glanced out across the Hudson while he waited for Unly to reply. ‘Yep, I’m here… Aha…’ Jack scribbled down notes. ‘Address…? I’ll wait… Aha. Thanks.’ Jack ended the call.

Jack lifted his notes. ‘Adrian Harker. Lives on East 2nd Street in East Village. If this pattern is correct… He’s more than likely next on our hit list of victims…’ Jack said.

‘Do you think we should send Pete down to his address, in case this guy is in danger?’

’I thought about it. But I figured… If he isn’t already dead by now, any hit would more than likely be at night, so we’ve got time. We’ll wander down to the East Village after this job.

‘That works for me…’ Spence said.

---

When Jack and Spence stepped from the elevator at the fourth floor, they instinctively checked their left and right trying to establish which way apartment fourteen was.

Jack’s focus followed the climbing numbers on the apartment doors. ‘This way…’

The carpeted corridor was illuminated by low wattage wall sconces. The only visible art work on the pale cream walls were the emergency exit instructions, located near the stairway exits.

Four apartments along, the corridor turned to the left. Half way down the hallway, a young, fresh-faced uniform cop stood guard at the door to apartment fourteen.

‘Can I help you…?’ the young cop asked, as they approached.

Neither Jack nor Spence had seen this cop before. Jack peeled open his jacket to reveal his detective shield on his belt.

‘Oh. Right. OK.’ The young cop said. He gestured to the box of shoe covers on a chair beside the doorway. ‘Put these on before entering, please.’

Jack glared at the young cop. ‘This isn’t our first rodeo, Junior…’ Jack said, somewhat arrogantly. The cop forced out an embarrassed smile.

Once Jack and Spence fitted their disposable shoe covers and snapped on their latex gloves, the young cop stepped clear of the doorway for Jack and Spence to enter.

The front door was open at right angles. Jack stopped and examined the bullet hole through what was previously the peep hole.

After stepping inside he learned why the door was at that angle. The vic’s body was on the floor immediately behind the open door. A crime scene officer was processing the body.

Sergeant Donohue, a thirty-year uniform veteran with greying hair and expanding waistline, met Jack and Spence as they entered.

‘Jobs. Spence,’ Donohue said. ‘How ya doin’?’

Jack jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. ‘Who’s the cop ya got on the door?’

Donohue glanced around Jack towards the front door. ‘Ah. He’s a new recruit they sent down for some…’ He held up quotation mark fingers. ‘Work experience. Why? What’s up?’

Jack shook his head. ‘He asked who we were, then he told us to make sure we put our shoe covers on before entering… Good thing you’ve got him on the door to protect the crime scene…’ Jack said, oozing with sarcasm.

‘He means well… I’ll have a word to him, Jobs…’

Jack scanned the apartment. ‘What have we got…?’.

Every crime scene told Jack a story. It was up to Jack and the evidence gatherers to identify what story was being told, and how detailed a story it was.

Usually, he only had one shot at a crime scene before he risked losing evidence through deterioration or contamination from responders.

The front door opened into the living room. The back of a light grey Chaise lounge, about three yards inside the door, greeted the visitor.

Beyond that a smart TV sat on a six-door ,white TV cabinet, beside a window. The blinds were open.

A small dining table was off to the side, in front of the kitchen bench. Two bedrooms and a bathroom/toilet were located down a short hallway.

Donohue gestured to the crime scene officer processing the vic’s body. The body was lying on its back behind the open door.

‘Poor bastard,’ he began. ‘Someone’s knocked on his door. He looked through the peep hole before answering… Our perp fires through the peep hole. He falls there…’

Jack’s focus followed the line of blood, bone and brain matter leading from the front door towards the chaise lounge. He moved closer and examined the body.

The victim was casually dressed in dark jeans and an untucked, burnt orange, slim fit, button up collared shirt.

‘How ya doin’, Grant….?’ Jack greeted the crime scene officer kneeling beside the vic.

‘Hey, Jobs…’

The victim had a neat round entry wound where his right eye used to be.

‘Judging by the mess…’ Jack gestured to the blood trail. ‘I assume the round did a JFK to the back of his head,’ Jack said.

Grant lifted an evidence bag up to Jack. ‘This was found over there by the sofa.’ He gestured towards the middle of the apartment.

‘Is that part of his skull?’

Grant nodded. He indicated an area on the back of his own head. ‘It is this part around here…’ he said. ‘It’ll be documented in the photos.’

Jack nodded his understanding. ‘Was the door locked when you arrived?’ Jack asked Donohue.

‘Yeah. We had to get the building super to open it for us.’

‘Are there any cameras in the hallway out there?’ Spence said.

‘Nuh. Nothing like that,’ Donohue said.

‘What about at the street level entry? The lift lobby, anywhere…?’ Jack said.

Donohue shook his head. ‘Nothing.’

Jack scanned the apartment. ‘Did we find his cell phone…?’

Donohue pointed to one of the crime scene officers in the kitchen. ‘She’s bagged his cell,’ he said.

‘OK. Good.’ Jack’s face wore a puzzled expression.

‘Whatcha thinking, Jobs?’ Spence asked.

‘These buildings have street access security right…?’ Jack began.

‘So our vic must’ve buzzed the shooter in…’ Spence said, picking up what Jack was putting down.

Jack nodded. ‘Exactly. But why would he buzz in someone he didn’t know… That’s the whole idea of having the security…’ Jack said.

‘Maybe he knew the shooter,’ Spence said. His face tightened. His eyebrows arched. ’Shit jobs…What if the shooter was Phil Box? Think about it… They know one another from court. He’d probably let Box in, if he buzzed…’

‘I suppose that fits…’ Jack said. ‘Who’s your lead in here today, Grant…?’

The kneeling crime scene officer pointed to one of his colleagues. ’Tracy’s over there… She’s the team leader.

‘Thanks.’ Jack moved to the kitchen. ‘Hey, Trace…’ Jack said as he approached.

‘Hey, Jobs… How ya doin’…?’

Jack scanned the area. ‘I’m assuming there was no entry by the shooter…?’ Jack said as a question.

‘Correct.’

’So there won’t be any trace or transfer in here for us, then.

Tracy shook her head as she cast her eyes over the apartment. ‘No. Nothing at all, really. Just the nine- mill we pulled out of the gyprock over there…’ She indicated the wall beneath the window.

Jack lifted his chin at the cell phone in an evidence bag on the kitchen bench. ‘So, we’ve got his cell… Did he have a laptop?’ Jack asked as he scanned the room.

‘Oh, yeah. We found a Lenovo laptop in his bedroom.’

‘Locked…?’

‘I believe so…’

Jack nodded his disappointment.

One of Tracy’s team members emerged from a bedroom holding a small red book. He approached Tracy and Jack

‘I think you will be interested in this…’ He handed Jack the book.

‘What is it…?’ Jack asked. He accepted the thin red address book, around the size of small cigarette packet. Jack made a cursory flick through the pages.

‘I don’t think our lawyer there…’ The crime scene officer lifted his chin towards the victim’s body. ‘Was all that tech savvy… He ignored the golden rule of online security. Never write down your passwords. It looks like he recorded every one of his passwords in that book.’

Jack flicked open the book and began page turning. ‘You’re right… There’s his iPhone password…’ He flipped some more pages. ‘Laptop log in and password.’ He thumbed through some more. ‘Email account… Online banking password…’ Jack’s surprised gaze lifted to the CSOs. ‘They’re all here.’ He shook a disbelieving head, then handed the book to Spence, for him to check. ’Where did you find it? Jack asked.

‘It was duct taped underneath the bottom drawer in his bedside chest of drawers,’ the CSO said.

‘Good job…’ Jack said.

‘Can you sign this over to us now.’ Spence held up the address book. ‘And… The laptop and the iPhone on the bench there, Trace. We’ll take these with us now.’

‘Done…’ Tracy looked to her astute colleague standing with them. ‘Can you do that now for them, Stu…?’

‘Not a problem.’

‘I look forward to your report and photographs, Trace,’ Jack said, then checked his watch. ‘We’ve got another matter we gotta to attend to, so we’ll leave you with it…’

Chapter 12

The drive across town to East Village was relatively short, but it still gave Jack and Spence time to discuss their latest findings.

‘I was feeling good about ADA Box after we noticed him in the crowd at 2nd Avenue,’ Spence began. ‘But after what we just saw back there… I’m liking him even more for this…’

‘I agree with how it looks…’

‘But…’ Spence said, sensing a “but” coming on.

‘But…’ Jack said with emphasis. ‘What doesn’t fit is… This is way out of character from the Phil Box we know…’ Spence nodded a reluctant agreement. ‘Firstly, he’s a straight shooter, figuratively speaking of course. Secondly, I doubt he’d own a hand gun, let alone know how to use it. And lastly… And this is where I struggle to agree with you…’

‘The Mozambique tap…?’ Spence said knowingly.

‘Exactly. An untrained shooter who was having a bad day, who flipped out and decided to shoot someone, wouldn’t double tap to the chest and one to the head… That’s trained killer stuff.’

‘And Boxy ain’t no trained killer…’ Spence said.

‘That’s part of my dilemma in accepting him as our perp. But… I suppose, there’s also the scenario where he could’ve hired a hitman to do it. I suppose that would explain the kill shot technique… I really don’t know, Spence. We’ve just gotta talk to him and let him explain the anomalies…’

‘Absolutely…’

Spence turned into East 2nd Street and slowly rolled his vehicle in search of the ever-elusive, New York City parking space.

East 2nd Street was a narrow one-way street with a mix of shop fronts and four and five story apartments on either side, each with their doorways situated right on the footpath. No stoops. No small front yards.

Tall evergreen trees cast a green leafy canopy that extended over most of the narrow roadway.

Once considered a working-class area, East Village had transformed into arguably, one of the trendiest areas in Manhattan.

The tired, litter scattered streets of yesteryear, now boasted rubbish free gutters, and freshly cleaned building facades. Upmarket shops replaced the rundown retailers of years gone by.

The escalating rents commanded for this general area controlled the class of resident and limited it only to those of a higher socio-economic status, able to afford such elevated prices.

Spence located a roadside parking space a few doors down from their intended destination.

The door to Harker’s building bordered the footpath. The glass entry door was locked. Inside they could see a small foyer, devoid of any furniture. Two elevators were situated beyond that.

Jack pressed the doorbell to number fifteen – Harker’s apartment. An electronic buzz sounded. He pressed it again when there was no response. His gaze flicked to Spence. ‘Not looking good…’

Jack pressed it again with the same result. He stepped back onto the footpath and ran his eyes up the building facade, trying to estimate which apartment was number fifteen.

‘There’s a number here for the building super, Jobs. I’ll give it a call.’

While Spence made the call, Jack moved towards the curb. With his hands deep in his pockets, Jack surveyed East 2nd Street. It had been some time since he was last down in this area.

The now chic area pulsed with a vibrancy. Across the street, restaurant alfresco dining tables shared the sidewalk. A little further down, at the next intersection, coffee drinkers occupied the small number of sidewalk tables at a coffee shop. A Pizza bar was on the opposite corner.

The apartment buildings towering over the narrow street were an architectural mix of old-fashioned red brick, art nouveau and eclectic facades that combined classical forms and intricate ornaments.

The signature New York City fire escapes zig-zagged down the front of every other building.

‘He’s on his way down, Jobs…’ Spence said.

‘OK. Good.’ Jack ambled back to the door. By the time Jack reached the building’s front door, the aging African American super exited the building and met them on the street.

‘You said you looking for Adrian Harker…’ The super said. His questioning eyes flicked back and forth between Spence and Jack, clearly unsure which one he just spoke to on the phone.

‘I did. That’s correct,’ Spence said.

‘Can I see some ID please, gentlemen…?’

Jack and Spence obliged and presented their ID and badges. The super took time to glance at each one.

‘Mr. Harker lives in apartment number fifteen.’ He gestured up the building. ‘It’s that one there on the second floor.’

‘Would you be able to open it up for us…?’ Jack said.

The super shifted his questioning focus from Spence to Jack. ‘Do you have a warrant…? Coz I can’t let you in without a warrant.’

‘I understand your position, but we are not wanting to search the apartment. This is a welfare check. We have concerns that Mr. Harker may have met with foul play…’ Jack explained.

The super’s eye brows arched. ‘Foul Play…?’

Jack nodded. ‘We think he may have been killed and is lying in his apartment.’

The super’s mouth fell open. ‘Are you serious…?’

‘One hundred percent serious.’

‘Stuff the warrant. Come with me…’

Jack and Spence followed the shuffling, grey haired super to the elevators. He pushed the call button then turned to face his visitors. ‘Killed you say…?’ His heavily lined face projected a genuine concern.

‘That is our suspicions…’ Jack said.

The super shook his head as he shifted his focus to monitor the progress of the next elevator.

Following a slow-moving, clunky unnerving elevator ride to the second floor, the super exited first. ‘Number fifteen’s down this way…’ He shuffled off to the left. Jack and Spence followed.

Around five doors along the hallway, he stopped. ‘Here we are… Number fifteen.’ He indicated the apartment number on the door.

The super unlocked the door and moved in, holding it open for Jack and Spence to enter.

‘Wait here, please,’ Jack said.

Jack was relieved the only detectable odor inside the small one-bedroom apartment was that of stale air. His lip curled as he took an unfavorable first-time glance around the small, poorly maintained apartment.

Ground in dirt and hand marks on the wall surrounded the light switch by the front door.

The compact, windowless kitchenette was only one step inside the door. Fat, or grease had solidified in the frypan left sitting on the cook top. Dirty dishes stacked high in the single sink.

Flies buzzed around the empty pizza boxes, beer cans, beer bottles, dirty plates and cutlery that occupied most of the small breakfast bench.

The blinds to the window on the street-facing living room were open, allowing natural light to flood in. Two well-worn fabric arm chairs and a blanket-covered three-seater sofa were crammed into the small living space.

The cream-colored carpet was heavily stained and thread bare. A thirty-six inch, older-model flat screen TV, sat on a box in the corner, beside the window.

Jack and Spence navigated their way around the bulky arm chairs to access the bedroom. An unmade queen bed took up the majority of floor space.

Harker’s ‘floordrobe’ of crumpled up clothes strewn everywhere, covered the floor.

The last room to be checked was the small bathroom and toilet that was accessed via a door near the kitchen bench.

Jack and Spence stood in the middle of the apartment. Clearly there was no dead body anywhere.

‘Did y’all find anything…?’ The super asked from the doorway.

Jack scanned the apartment. ‘There’s no body…’ he said. ‘It’s a pig sty… But there is no body in here.’

‘That’s a good thing… Right?’ The super said.

Jack and Spence exchanged a brief glance over the old man’s obvious question.

‘You don’t happen to know where Mr. Harker works, do you…?’ Spence asked the old man.

‘Sure do… He has a flower shop over on Ormond …’

‘OK. We’re done here. Thanks for your help,’ Jack said.

The super escorted them down to the street, securing the front door behind them.

---

A “Sorry We Are Closed” sign hung on a rope on the front glass door of Harker’s Florist shop on Ormond Crescent.

Jack shielded his eyes and peered in through the front window.

‘Anything…?’ Spence asked.

Jack shook his head. ‘Can’t see anything.’ He moved further to his right and did the same. Still nothing. ‘Maybe we should ask a neighbor if they’ve seen him…’ Jack said. He stepped back to asses which shop would be best to try.

Spence tried the front door. It was unlocked. ‘Jobs…’ Spence said, holding the now open front door.

‘That can’t be good…’ Jack said. They entered the shop, stepping carefully in case of potential evidence.

Empty black plastic plant pots on shelving lined the side walls. One or two of the pots had the remnants of dried-up dead flowers in them.

A counter with the empty cash register drawer open, was located four or five steps into the store. A large roll of clear plastic, used to wrap floral bouquets, sat on a bench behind the counter.

Beyond that, opaque plastic strips hung in a doorway leading to a back room.

After clearing the front of the store for any evidence, Jack and Spence cautiously stepped through to the back.

A long table stretched down the center of the room. Scissors, rolls of colored ribbon, clear and colored plastic wraps, a ball of string and small fine off cuts of green leaves were strewn over the table.

Spence watched his steps as he rounded the end of the table, furthest from the door. He stopped suddenly. His eyes fell to the floor. ‘Jobs…’ he said.

Jack knew that tone. He made his way over the Spence. Spence gestured to Harker’s body lying on his back. An enormous pool of congealed blood surrounded the body.

‘Two in the chest. One in the head… Same kill shots as the judge,’ Spence said.

‘Fuck me…!’ Jack exclaimed. He rubbed a hand across his closely shaved head. ‘Someone’s been busy,’ he said. He scanned the floor for casings or any other clues.

They each removed a pair of latex gloves from their jacket pockets and snapped them on.

Jack squatted down and examined Harker’s body. ‘He’s been dead for a while… Probably late last night, I’d guess.’

He used his pen as a pointer. ‘This one between the eyes was from close range. There’s GSR freckling on his face…’

‘No sign of a struggle…?’ Spence asked, looking on.

Jack lifted Harker’s hands one-by-one and examined each one. Nothing but compacted dirt under the fingernails. No marks, scratches or bruising on his arms or hands.

Jack checked the visible skin around Harker’s neck. He shook his head. ‘Nothing. Probably ambushed, I’d say…’

Next, Jack checked Harker’s pockets –A black leather wallet. A locked Samsung cell phone. A bunch of four keys and some loose coins.

Jack stood back up and checked the wallet contents. Seventy-five dollars in assorted bills. He slid out New York driver’s license in Harker’s name and examined it. He returned it, then dropped the wallet on the floor with the other property.

‘There’s no brass lying around, Jobs…’ Spence observed.

‘No. Has to be the same shooter…’

‘And then there were three…’ Spence said.

‘And all three can be linked, in some way, to Judge Davis,’ Jack said, thinking out loud. Call it in Spence…’

They returned out to the street as Spence made his call. When he was done, they remained on scene until a black and white arrived to secure the premises, ahead of crime scene forensics and the coroner.

Chapter 13

Back at the station, Jack and Spence perched themselves on the side of Jack’s desk, each one with his arms folded, studying the updated whiteboard with the latest victims.

Beside the word “SHOOTER” sitting at the top, Jack had written, “ADA Phil Box???” Several question marks followed, due to the evidence against Box being circumstantial.

Red lines extended from the word SHOOTER to the names of the three victims below. Blue lines then extended from the judge, across to O’Brien and Harker, linking them back to the judge.

‘In the space of four days, we have three bodies,’ Jack said. ‘Each one can be linked, in some way, to Judge Davis,’ Jack summarized.

Spence scanned the board. ‘There is one thing that keeps sticking with me, Jobs…’

‘What’s that…?’

‘Well… I can understand ADA Box feeling so humiliated when the judge ripped him a new one in open court that he wanted the judge taken out… And let’s assume he did arrange it—’

‘Or did it himself…’

Spence gave a conceding nod. ’Or did it himself… But his beef was with the judge for being an autocratic ass ‘ole, Right… He had no beef with these two,’ Spence gestured to the latest two victims. ‘So why take out the judge, then go for these other two…?’

‘Maybe Box was so angry that Harker got off the pedophile charges, he became judge, jury and executioner, himself.’

‘And O’Brien…?’

‘Well, I assume it was because he chose to defend the pedophile piece of shit…’

Spence shook his head. ‘Lawyers defend shit heads every day of the week… That shouldn’t be enough to get him whacked.’

Jack rubbed a contemplative hand across his mouth. His eyes moved across the whiteboard, while he processed Spence’s comments.

‘OK. I get that… So what we have here is more likely a vigilante against pedophiles, rather than revenge against a pompous power-hungry judge…?’

‘I think so…’

‘Maybe we should be looking for cases Judge Davis threw out, rather than the ones he gave jail sentences to…’ Jack said. ‘See if there is any connection there.’

‘I think we should look at both…’ Spence said. ‘Hey… We still have to look at O’Brien’s cell phone…’ Spence suggested. ‘We’ve got his unlock password…’

‘We do…’ Jack pushed himself from the desk and lifted the evidence bag from the floor beside his desk. He slid open his top drawer and removed a Stanley knife. He paused. ‘You’ve logged these into evidence…?’ Jack said as a question.

‘Already done.’

Jack slit open the bag. Using the password from the little red address book, Jack accessed O’Brien’s cell phone. The phone’s internet browser was open on the screen when it awoke.

In the search bar, O’Brien had previously typed, “Macy Burns New York Times.”

The searches had returned various links to Macy’s department store in New York City and The New York Times. There was nothing about anyone named Macy Burns.

‘You heard of a Macy Burns?’ Jack asked.

Spence shook his head. ‘No. Who’s she?’

‘It was open on his internet browser. Could O’Brien’s killer have passed him or herself off as this Macy Burns from the New York Times…?’ Jack said thinking out aloud.

‘Anything’s possible…’

‘And in the time it took for him, or her to arrive on the 4th floor, O’Brien had Googled her to see who she was…’

‘Fits I suppose. Unless of course, he was searching for a journalist at the New York Times.’

‘That name didn’t return any hits. So she certainly won’t be a journalist at The Times.’

‘Well… If that theory has legs…’ Spence said. ‘That would suggest our shooter is female…?’

Jack’s focus shifted back to the white board while he processed Spence’s comments. ‘How does that fit from what you saw in the footage you reviewed…? Did the physique of the shooter on 2nd Avenue look like that of a female…?’

‘Too hard to tell, Jobs. Too far away.’

‘There’s also the possibility that the Macy Burns search was completely unrelated to the shooter…’ Jack said.

‘Or, then there’s the possibility the shooter was male and disguised his voice to sound female to gain access… There aren’t any video cameras at O’Brien’s apartment building.’

‘What if the shooter had a female accomplice who did the talking…?’ Jack shook his head. ‘There are way too many possibilities at this stage…’

Jack’s face tightened. He quickly checked his watch. ‘Oh shit… I’m having lunch with Lynnie today. She’s in the city and wanted to catch up…’

Spence checked his watch. ‘What time?’

‘Five minutes ago…’

Spence flicked a finger to the door. ’Go! We can continue with this when you get back. ‘Can’t keep the good wife waiting…’

---

It was only a short run from the office, but Jack still arrived at their go-to choice of Chinese restaurant out of breath.

Jack heaved open the heavy door and stepped inside. People queued for their lunch orders at the takeout counter to his left.

A large fish tank extended across most of the restaurant’s width and separated the front foyer from the eight, or so round dining tables inside the restaurant.

The tantalizing odor of Chinese cooking was first to greet Jack, followed shortly thereafter by the restaurant owner, Mr. Wang.

‘Good afternoon, Mr. Jack. Welcome. Please come in…’ he said, nodding his greeting.

‘Afternoon, Mr. Wang…’ Jack said. He scanned the near full restaurant until he found Caitlyn. ‘Ah… I’m over there.’ He gestured to his wife.

Mr. Wang extended a hand towards the seating area; a silent instruction for Jack to enter.

Caitlyn smiled and waved when she saw Jack weaving his way around the tables, on his way to her. ‘I’m so sorry I’m late, Hun…’ He hurriedly approached. He kissed her hello, then moved around to take his seat. ‘We’ve had a very busy morning and the time got away.’

Caitlyn leaned on her elbows. ‘That’s OK, Jack. I understand. You have a demanding job. It’s only lunch, babe… You’re here now.’

A waiter arrived with two glasses of red. ‘I ordered us a drink while I waited,’ she said.

‘Well done,’ Jack said. ’He lifted his glass across to Caitlyn. She clinked his glass. ‘Cheers,’ he said.

With an order of their favorite dish of garlic shrimp on a sizzling platter and fried rice, Jack and Caitlyn discussed Caitlyn’s day so far.

They discussed her upcoming client meeting, the recent post card they received from the honeymooners, Dan and Sarah in Maui, which segued into the time they holidayed in Maui.

They also discussed how they both looked forward to catching up with Dan and Sarah next week, when they returned, and anything else that came to mind.

While Jack watched the waiter refill their glasses, Caitlyn gestured to the wall-mounted TV screen, to Jack’s rear, running news feeds. ‘Is that one of your cases…?’ she asked.

Jack took a sip without checking. ‘Which one’s that…?’ He forked a shrimp into his mouth.

‘Someone was found murdered in his home in Brooklyn.’

‘No. Brooklyn handle their own cases, Hun. We’ve got enough of our own to worry about.’ His focus was on his delicious food.

Caitlyn nodded her understanding as she continued to watch the news article. ‘Oh, how horrible…’ She said. Jack on the other hand, had heard it all before. He had grown numb to the horror of murder reports. ‘They’re saying detectives think it was an execution…’ Caitlyn updated.

Execution… Jack’s eyebrows arched. He glanced over his shoulder at the TV in time to notice the scrolling ticker tape feeding across the bottom of the screen that read, “School principal executed in his own home…”

Jack dropped his fork and spun around in his chair. He watched the full report being filed by the field journalist standing on the road outside Goodfellow’s brownstone home.

‘Do you know him, Jack?’

Jack nodded but kept his eyes on the TV until his text message tone sounded. He checked his cell. It was a message from Spence informing him, “Goodfellow shot dead – double tap to the chest. One in the head.”

Jack turned back to his lunch. ‘Things just got a whole lot weirder…’ he said.

‘How so…?’

‘You know that first question you asked me…? Was that case one of mine…?’ He jabbed a thumb back to the TV.

‘The answer is yes. It is now.’ He shoveled a fork full into his mouth.

Despite what he saw on TV, the new and improved Jack stayed with Caitlyn until their lunch date was over, before he returned to the station.

Was he interested in the circumstances of Goodfellow’s hit…? Absolutely. But not enough to leave Caitlyn hanging at their lunch date, while he rushed back to the office.

---

Spence met Jack as Jack wandered into the Bull Pen, after his lunch. ‘Did ya get my text message?’

‘I did. And I also watched the report on the news…’ Jack said. He continued into his office. Spence followed.

They slid into their respective chairs simultaneously. Jack reclined his chair way back. He clasped his hands behind his head, then glanced at the whiteboard. ‘You see what this means, Spence…?’

‘What’s that…?’

‘When we put Goodfellow’s name on the board there… We’ll have four cases all linked to Judge Davis…’

‘I called North Brooklyn Homicide and informed them of our interest in this one. They said they had some CCTV footage of the offender at Goodfellow’s front door.’

Jack’s excited focus snapped back to Spence. ‘Ah, right… the camera…’ Jack said.

‘A baseball cap hides the facial features, apparently. But I told them we will head across and have a look.’

‘OK. Good. I’m keen to see if this shooter is male or female…’

‘The lead Detective…. Ah, what’s his name…?’ Spence paused to recall. ‘I wrote it down out there… Ah yeah. Kurt Sullivan. He mentioned that Goodfellow was found just inside the front door, in the entry foyer.’

‘No sign of forced entry?’ Jack said as a question.

Spence shook his head. ‘Nah. Apparently not.’

‘So… He let the shooter in, then…?’

‘Could be another case of the vic knowing the shooter, by the looks. O’Brien buzzed in his killer and now Goodfellow opened the door to his…’

Jack opened a drawer and removed his pistol and car keys. He pushed himself from his chair, then slipped out the magazine, checked it and palmed it back into place.

As he passed the whiteboard, he tapped ADA Phil Box’s name on the board. ‘He’s gonna have to wait. Let’s go see what this footage has to offer.’

Spence followed Jack out of the office.

Chapter 14

Detective Kurt Sullivan from North Brooklyn Homicide met Jack and Spence in the public foyer of Brooklyn’s 90th Precinct.

While not as tall as Jack’s six feet eight, Sullivan was a tall, athletic African American in his late thirties. His white shirt appeared two sizes too small for his prominent chest and shoulder muscles. The sleeves of his shirt tightly hugged his bulging biceps. Like Jack, he too had a bone-crushing handshake.

The much shorter Spence looked like someone’s little brother standing flanked by the two physically imposing men.

Following the standard introductions and brief explanation as to what their interest was in the Goodfellow shooting, Sullivan escorted Jack and Spence back-of-house to his desk.

Jack and Spence followed Sullivan down a poorly lit hallway with well-worn, heavily stained cream linoleum flooring.

Sullivan shouldered open the timber door located at the end of the hall and entered without missing a step. Jack and Spence followed.

The Brooklyn homicide bull pen was similar in size and layout to Jack and Spence’s office. Eight desks, most with a cop attached, were located with four on either side of the long room.

A conversational buzz filled the room. Jack and Spence exchanged muted head nod greetings to anyone who lifted their eyes to them, as they passed by.

Sullivan’s desk was in the back corner. He dragged a nearby chair over for Spence, while Jack slid into the visitor chair already at Sullivan’s desk. Their host moved around and slid into his own chair.

He clasped his hands on the desk and eyed his visitors. His mannerisms would not have been out of place had he been conducting a job interview. ‘So… You were saying you have three murders in Manhattan, two of which were shot and killed like our vic…. Two in the chest. One in the head…?’ He said.

‘Correct,’ Jack said. ‘As I mentioned… Each one can be linked back to our first vic, Judge Davis…’

‘I see. And you said you visited our vic last Sunday…?’

‘Correct,’ Jack said. ‘As I mentioned previously…’ Jack subtly began. ‘The judge was on his way to Goodfellow’s Williamsburg address in an UBER on Saturday night, when he was ambushed and killed…’

Sullivan sat back in his chair. ‘OK. So you think your judge and Goodfellow knew one another and that is why Goodfellow was murdered?’

‘We do…’ Jack said. ‘When we met Goodfellow, he emphatically denied knowing the judge… At the time we were certain he lied, but had no idea why. And given the events of recent days, I’d suggest that lie was now confirmed,’ Jack explained.

‘It’s hard to be sure though, wouldn’t you say…?’

Jack leaned his elbows on the desk. ‘Well, if we include Goodfellow into the mix of victims… All our vics are linked to the judge in some way…’ Jack said. ‘Then when you factor in the way they were shot…’

Sullivan crossed his arms. ‘Two in the chest, one in the head…’ Sullivan said. He nodded his understanding.

Jack sat back in his chair. ‘It suggests each was killed by the same shooter… Which further suggests we possibly have a vigilante over in Manhattan.’

‘Certainly appears that way, doesn’t it…’ Sullivan conceded. ‘OK…’ Sullivan said in tone like he’d been talked into something he didn’t want to do. He accessed his computer. Jack and Spence watched on while Sullivan called up the CCTV footage captured from Goodfellow’s front door camera.

Sullivan turned his monitor towards his visitors. Goodfellow’s front landing filled the screen. The front door intercom, with an illuminated call button, was in full view, but the front door was in line with the camera and out of sight from that angle.

For a few seconds nothing moved. They could have been looking at a still shot, if not for the digital counter ticking over in the bottom right-hand corner.

‘The person we believe to be the shooter will arrive shortly…’ Sullivan announced. All eyes remained glued to the footage.

At 7.50pm, a person wearing loose fitting, dark clothing and a black baseball cap walked into view, after ascending the stoop to Goodfellow’s front door.

This person pushed the intercom. The body language suggested he was talking to Goodfellow via the intercom. The visitor stood with his back to the camera the whole time.

‘So there’s no sound, I take it…?’ Jack said.

Sullivan shook his head. ‘Correct. Video only.’

Audio would not only have assisted in knowing what was said between Goodfellow and the visitor, but the voice could also have helped in determining the visitor’s gender.

‘Does that physique look male or female to you…?’ Jack asked Sullivan.

Sullivan adjusted his head to glance at the screen, which displayed the back view of the front door visitor.

His mouth inverted briefly. ‘Hard to say. The clothes are very loose fitting…’ He scratched his chin in contemplation while he studied the monitor. ‘I’d guess male, but…’ He shook his head. ‘Why. Do you know something different?’

‘Just ticking boxes,’ Jack said. His focus returned to the screen. There was no point going into a lengthy explanation over the Macy Burns thing.

‘OK…’ Sullivan gestured to the screen. ‘This is where it looks like the visitor becomes frustrated, presumably because Goodfellow wouldn’t open the door…’

The visitor leaned closer to the intercom, then stepped back and flicked an aggressive hand, before beginning to descend the stairs down to the footpath below.

About two steps down, the visitor stopped and returned to the intercom, where a further conversation took place. The visitor stepped back from the intercom.

‘By the look of that reaction… Stopping suddenly, then quickly returning to the intercom… It looked like Goodfellow must’ve called him back…?’ Spence said.

Jack nodded his agreement as his eyes remained fixed to the playback.

Around twenty seconds later, light flooded out onto the front stoop when Goodfellow opened the front door to his visitor.

A brief conversation took place, then the visitor entered Goodfellow’s home. After the visitor stepped inside, Goodfellow stepped out onto the landing, where he checked the surrounds, like he was checking no-one was watching, before he stepped back inside and closed the door.

‘How long was he inside for…?’ Spence asked.

Sullivan pointed to the screen; a silent indication to keep watching. Twenty seconds after entering Goodfellow’s home, the visitor exited onto the landing, calmly closed the front door and walked out of view, as he descended the stairs to the street below.

Jack sat back in his seat. ‘I take it there were no other visitors up until the vic was discovered…?’

Sullivan nodded. ‘Correct. That was our shooter…’

Jack rubbed a contemplative hand across his mouth. ‘Did it look to you by those reactions that there was some sort of resistance from Goodfellow to opening the front door to this visitor…?’

‘Absolutely. The wave of the hand as he turned to walk away…’ Sullivan said. ’That was like a “’fuck you then” wave.’

‘So, from that we can assume, Goodfellow knew the shooter… But probably not as a close associate. I mean… You’d let a friend in anytime they visited, wouldn’t you…?’

‘Unless the timing was poor. Goodfellow could’ve had a date, or something…’ Sullivan said.

‘OK. I get that, but you’d at least answer the door and tell them that to their face… as a courtesy.’

‘True,’ Sullivan conceded.

‘So, I wonder what changed Goodfellow’s mind to decide to let him in…’ Jack said, thinking out aloud.

‘You’d have to ask the shooter that…’ Sullivan said.

Jack caught Spence’s firm gaze. That wasn’t a question that required an answer and certainly not a smart-ass answer. Jack did his best to ignore it. ‘The footage doesn’t help with ID does it…?’ Jack said to Spence, more as an observation, rather than a question.

Spence still responded none-the-less. He shook his head. ‘Not really. No. Nor does it help confirm the gender…’

Sullivan’s inquisitive lieutenant wandered over to find out what was going on. Sullivan took the opportunity to discuss him handing over the case to his visitors from across the river.

His Lieutenant took little convincing. In fact, he was happy to hand over the case to Jack and Spence. ‘Gets it off my statistics…’ he said, rather matter-of-fact, as if he was discussing handing over lost property, rather than a case relating to a brutal homicide.

Once all the available evidence was signed over, Jack and Spence departed the 90th with an exchange of bone crushing handshakes, which impacted Spence more than Jack, due to his much smaller hand.

Chapter 15

For a Thursday, Jack had a rare pep in his step and his concentration was easily distracted. But he had good reason.

Dan and Sarah were taking Jack and Caitlyn out to lunch today, as a thank you for everything they did for the wedding and for the Hawaii honeymoon present.

He was excited to see Dan again and it showed, which was rare on the big man, who struggled with showing any form of emotion.

Jack checked his watch. Still 1½ hours before his lunch appointment. He scanned his desk. His roving eyes searched for a task that wouldn’t take up too much of his time.

His warbling desk phone broke the silence. He snatched up the handset.

’Lieutenant Head… Ah Phil… Yes, I did leave a message. Thanks for calling back. Look, the reason I rang is, I’m currently investigating the shooting of Judge Davis from a few weeks back and I—

‘Really….? Who told you I was the lead…? Oh. Galatea…’ Jack shook his head. He wasn’t surprised to hear that in the slightest.

’Anyway, why I called was, your name came up during our investigation and I was hoping you could come down and have a chat to us, to clarify some things….

’Well, I’m not going to discuss the case over a telephone. I’m sure you understand…

’I appreciate you want to know why I have an interest in you, but–

’Aha… OK. There’s no need to play the lawyer card here.

’Are you a suspect…? I’d say more like a person of interest at this stage, which is why we need to chat….

’I understand. Let me just say, part of what we need to discuss relates to comments you made outside court, after Judge Davis threw out the Harker case, you prosecuted…

’Yes, it has something to do with those comments. Correct…

’Look, I hear you and I understand what you are saying. I appreciate they were comments made in the heat of the moment…

’But you understand how this works. We need to tick this box, so we can move on…

’Great. I appreciate that. Tomorrow at 11am works for me.

‘Just ask for me at the front desk and I’ll come down… Thanks. See ya tomorrow.’ Jack hung up his phone.

‘Was that Box…?’ Spence yelled from his desk.

‘Yep. He’s coming in at 11am tomorrow for a chat.’

‘Excellent.’

Jack checked his watch. The phone call kick started his mind back into investigation mode. ‘How’d ya go with the review of Seamus O’Brien’s laptop…?’ Jack yelled back out to Spence.

‘Still reviewing…’

‘Anything so far…?’

‘No but I—wait. This is interesting.’

Jack knew that tone. He pushed himself away from his desk and moved out towards Spence’s desk. Spence continued.

‘It looks like O’Brien received the same email on the Friday before the judge was shot…’

‘Same email…?’

‘Yeah… You know the email the judge received with the long sentence? O’Brien received the same one…’ Spence flicked a finger at his monitor as Jack approached. ’You know the one. It reads, “I am looking for love but as you know the people in this current world of violence and hate with all the sexism all the strong feminism I lack readiness to commit and what of those who only want children instead of love.”

Jack returned to his office and stood in the doorway while he read the print out he had placed on the whiteboard. ’That’s it.Same strange message, word-for-word.’

‘Why would they both receive this identical email, if it was for a dating site…?’ Spence asked.

‘Don’t know the answer to that… Standard reply for dates maybe… Does O’Brien’s laptop happen to have folders of photographs stored on it…?’ Jack asked.

‘He does actually…’ Spence indicated his note pad.‘I made a note of that here…’ He read from his notes. ‘Lots of images of buildings and landscapes, but none with any people in the photos.’Spence lifted his eyes to Jack. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘The judge had the same. Lots of photos of nothing, really.’

‘Do you think it means anything that they both have lots of photos…?’

‘I’m not sure at this stage. Do you know if IT have accessed Goodfellow’s laptop yet?’ Jack asked.

‘Haven’t heard.’

‘I’d like to check that as well…’

Jack’s desk phone summoned him back to his desk. He rolled his eyes when he noticed it was the gnome. He checked his watch, opting to allow a few more rings before answering. The prick can wait… he thought.

He lifted the handset. ‘Chief… What, Right now…?’ He checked his watch. Lunch time loomed and he did not want to cancel on his son. ‘OK. I’m on my way.’ Jack slammed down the handset.

‘Just heading up to see the gnome…’ Jack said, as he passed Spence’s desk.

‘Have fun…’ If Jack looked back he would’ve seen the wry grin filling Spence’s face.

‘Oh…’ Jack stopped and turned back to Spence, who quickly wiped his grin. ‘Dan’s coming in later to collect me for lunch… If I’m not back, can you bring him in and sit him in my office. Get him a coffee, or something. I won’t be too far away.’

‘Not a problem…’ Spence said.

The gnome’s door was closed when Jack arrived. He knocked firmly and waited.

‘Come in,’ The gnome barked.

When he entered, the New York City mayor sat at the Captain’s desk. He turned in his chair and glanced over a shoulder towards Jack.

The mayor shared several characteristics with Captain Johnson, none the least of which was they both made a jockey feel tall.

To compensate for his lack of height, the mayor wore a combed-back towering bouffant hair style that sat about three inches above his head, clearly to appear much taller. It’s a similar concept to that of a balding man who combed over his hair; each attempted to disguise something, albeit poorly.

Like the gnome, the mayor had what Jack called, ‘angry small-man-syndrome’, to further compensate for their lack of physical stature.

Jack did not like this mayor, or what he stood for. As a leader, the mayor lacked backbone and only made decisions that benefited him personally.

The Gnome extended a hand towards Jack. ‘This is Lieutenant Jack Head, sir. He leads our homicide division.’

The mayor stood from his chair to face Jack. ‘Lieutenant…’ he said. His child-like hand struggled to fit around Jack’s massive mitt. But his handshake was still firm for a small man.

Jack’s physical presence towered over the mayor by around twenty inches. ‘What seems to be the problem…?’ Jack said.

The mayor gestured to the chair beside him. ‘Please…’ He took a seat. He watched Jack take his.

Johnson clasped his hands together on the desk. His firm gaze was at Jack. ‘The mayor is concerned about the rising murder numbers, many of which remain unsolved…’ The gnome said. The mayor nodded.

‘I see…’ Jack said. He didn’t agree with that comment about many remained unsolved, but he’d wait to see where this headed, before responding in his defense.

‘We’ve had four…’ The mayor paused. ‘Is the number still at four…?’ he asked Johnson.

‘Yes, sir. That is correct,’ Johnson said.

The mayor continued. ‘We’ve had four shooting murders in the last week… Captain Johnson tells me you think they are all related somehow…’

’I don’t think they are related… They are related… They are all linked to Judge Davis…’

‘How so…?’

‘With all due respect, Mr. Mayor… I’m not prepared to discuss the details of an ongoing investigation.’ As if synchronized, The mayor and Johnson’s faces both tightened in unison at Jack’s response. ‘All I can say is… There is a common thread to each shooting.’

‘Tell me this at least… Were they all killed by the same shooter…?’

‘I believe so… We still don’t have the ballistics back, but I think it’s a formality… I’m confident the results will confirm the same gun was used.’

‘So, do we have a serial killer on the loose, Lieutenant?’ The mayor asked.

‘I think it’s starting to look that way, sir…’ The gnome chimed in, when really, he had not the slightest idea.

‘Actually. No we don’t,’ Jack said, correcting his boss. The Gnome’s beady eyes glared at Jack. They narrowed as he sat back in his chair. ‘I don’t believe we have a serial killer,’ Jack continued.

‘And why do you think that…? We’ve got four dead and you just told me you think it was by the same killer… Isn’t that the definition of a serial killer?’ The mayor asked.

’Firstly… We have to be very careful, loosely throwing around the term, ‘serial killer’ in a generalized fashion. It tends to cause panic,’ Jack said.

‘I’m aware of that, Lieutenant…’ The Mayor said abruptly. He gave Johnson a, ‘do you believe this guy’ expression.

‘I’ll answer your first question…’ Jack continued. ‘Why do I think this is not the work of serial killer…? A serial killer is typically a person who murders three or more people, usually—’

‘Well, we’ve got four murdered…’ The mayor interjected. He raised his eyebrows at the gnome, as if questioning Jack’s logic.

‘…for an abnormal psychological gratification,’ Jack continued, ignoring the interruption. ‘With a reasonable separation between each murder. Our murders all happened too close together, with more than one killed on the same day.’

‘And that is not a serial killer…?’ The mayor asked.

Jack shook a firm head. ‘No. Our shooter is more like someone with a grudge, or maybe worse, a gun for hire…’

The Mayor leaned an elbow on the desk, as he turned towards Jack. ‘You mean… A hitman…’

‘Correct.’

The mayor folded his arms. ‘I see… And where are we at with catching this hitman with a grudge?’

‘We’re working on it…’

‘So you can’t give me a timeframe…?’

Jack’s stunned gaze flicked to the gnome. His right eyebrow arched. ‘You want me to give you a time frame of when we will be able to solve four linked murders…’ Jack shook a condescending head. ‘I could just throw a date at you, but I’m not prepared to do that.’

‘And there is my problem, Lieutenant. These unsolved murders.’

‘They’re not unsolved murders…’ Jack snapped. ‘They’re ongoing investigations that are less than two weeks old…’ he firmly reiterated.

The mayor was an idiot. He ignored Jack and launched into his political grandstanding. ’For several years now, we, as New York City officials, have proudly claimed the title of the safest large city in the country.

’But for the first time in years, the crime figures for the last twelve months are threatening to dethrone us… And of course, undermine that sense of safety we have established.

‘The statistics are grim Lieutenant… Your fourth shooting last week was the 308th shooting murder in New York City this year. That is more than double the one hundred forty-eight for the same period last year. The city is expected to finish 2021 with a fifteen-year high in murders… And frankly, Lieutenant, I won’t have it. Not on my watch.’

‘With all due respect…’ Jack began, despite having no respect whatsoever for the mayor. ‘Those statistics have nothing to do with me… We can’t stop—’

‘It has everything to do with you, Lieutenant,’ The mayor firmly interjected.

Jack glared his contempt at the mayor. One would usually argue that was not a good career move, but not Jack. He was not intimidated by anyone, probably to a fault, and certainly not by fools such as this mayor.

‘You do understand, Mr. Mayor, that we can’t stop the murders from occurring,’ Jack said. His tone was intentionally condescending. The mayor opened his mouth to respond, but Jack continued. ‘My team and I are reactive… When a murder occurs, it is our job to try and catch those who kill. So those statistics you talk about have nothing to do with me and my team.’

‘I think Mr. Mayor is questioning if you have what it takes to run this team, Jack… Because the murders seem to be getting away from you.’

Jack glared at the gnome. He frowned heavily. ‘Is that right…? Getting away from me, are they…? If you took the time to view our statistics, you would note that our clean up rate of murders is second to none,’ he said addressing the mayor.

‘Second to none…’ The mayor was quick to snap back. ‘That is very interesting, considering you never caught that serial killer from three years ago… The one who sent you all those clues in the letters. What did you call him…?’ He said, looking to Johnson.

‘That was the Cryptic Killer case,’ Johnson said.

‘Yes. Yes. The Cryptic Killer. That remains an unsolved case, doesn’t it, detective…?’ He oozed with an, “I told you so” tone. ‘And now you have this case and they are all still unsolved.’

Those comments hit Jack’s ears hard, not only because of the circumstances of that past case, by far the toughest of Jack’s long career, but also because that case was solved. It’s just that no-one could know that.

Jack paused while he chose his words very carefully. ‘The Cryptic Killer murders you mentioned…’ he said through a tightened jaw. ‘Stopped suddenly three years ago… Either the killer moved away, or he was jailed for something unrelated, or maybe he died. Either way, those murders stopped.’

‘I see… Well. These latest four murders… They are still outstanding, aren’t they?’ The mayor asked knowingly.

‘As I said… These latest murders are not even two weeks old. We can only follow the evidence available and right now, we are following several leads. I have every confidence we will locate the killer very soon.’ Of course, he lied. He had no idea who the killer was, or the motive for the killings.

‘I have asked Captain Johnson to keep me appraised on your performance, Lieutenant, because we need reassurance that the you are the right man for the job.’

‘The right ma—’ Jack cut himself off. He glared at the gnome, who interestingly, couldn’t hold Jack’s gaze. Jack shook a disappointed head. Sometimes discretion was the better part of valor. And reading the room, now was one of those times.

Jack checked his watch. ‘If there is nothing else…’ He stood from his chair.

‘No. That will be all…’ The Lieutenant waved the back of his hand at Jack. It was his arrogant way of telling you to get out.

Jack marched over to the office door, wrenched it open and stormed out.

Chapter 16

Jack firmly punched the elevator call button. If it had a nose, it would now be broken. ‘Right man for the job…’ He blurted to no-one. He glared back towards the gnome’s office. ‘Are you fucking kidding me…?’ He said through gritted teeth. His blood pressure rose faster than the arriving elevator.

When the doors sprung open, the lone male occupant exited. ‘Jobs…’ he greeted. Jack didn’t respond. He pushed passed and hit the ground floor button. ‘Just let me do my fucken job…’ he blurted, as the doors swallowed him up.

He checked his watch as the elevator released him on the ground floor. He stormed into the bull pen on a bee-line to his office.

When he approached Spence’s desk, Spence said, ‘Dan’s waiting in your office for you…’

That news was the distraction he needed. His face instantly lit up with expectation, as he entered his office.

Dan sat in the visitor’s chair at Jack’s desk. ’Here he is…’Jack said, as he burst into his office. ‘Welcome back…’

‘Hey Dad…’ Dan said. He stood from his seat. They shook hands, then bumped fists, followed by a warm, man hug.

‘Sorry I’m late, buddy… Got held up at a meeting upstairs…’

‘It’s all good, Dad. Spence told me…’

Jack clapped his hands together then rubbed them vigorously. ‘So, are we ready to go?’

‘Yep.’ Dan approached the whiteboard. ‘I was reading these, while I waited…’ He pointed to the unusual long sentences Jack had printed out and placed on the board. ‘I hope you don’t mind.’

‘Not at all…’

‘What are these for…?’

‘Ah… Some of our victims there on the board received those unusual long sentences in an email, before they were killed.’

‘Do you know their significance to your case…?’

‘At this stage, we don’t know…’

‘OK…’ Dan nodded as he scanned the white board. ‘Because they look a lot like a null cipher… I was trying to see if I could break it, while I waited, but I need the key for that.’

‘A null cipher…?’ Jack’s focus shifted to the page containing the sentence, the judge received. ‘Is that right…? I don’t know what a null cipher is… But are you saying there could be a code hidden in that sentence?’

‘I don’t know for certain, but there could be. You usually need the key to help decipher it, though.’

Jack rubbed a contemplative hand across his mouth. ‘What is a null cipher…? Are they hard to break?’

Dan shook his head. ‘Depends on the type of key used. Some are more complicated than others. Prisoners often used this type of cipher to get hidden messages out to gang members and the likes.’

‘Spence…!’ Jack yelled, over a shoulder.

Within seconds, Spence appeared in the doorway. Jack gestured to Dan. ‘Have a listen to this. Keep going, Danny…’

‘I was just saying these sentences look a lot like a null cipher.’

‘Is that a code…?’

Dan nodded. ‘Of sorts. But it’s more like a hidden message contained within.’

Spence nodded his understanding. ‘That makes sense… Can you crack it….?’

‘If I had the key…’

‘What type of key…?’ Jack asked.

‘The receiver of this message will usually have the key. But if not, the key is usually provided with the message, in some disguised way. The key would almost always contain a number hidden in plain sight.’

Jack’s eyebrows arched. ‘A number…’ Jack repeated. He opened a file on his desk and walked his fingers through the pages. He lifted a page and handed it to Dan. ‘That’s the email one of the victim’s received….’ Jack pointed to the long sentence in the email. ‘See that… that is how it was received, without punctuation. Same as that there on the board.’

Dan read the email. He glanced back at the whiteboard. ‘OK… Can I write on that…?’ He gestured to the sentence printed out on letter page on the whiteboard.

‘Of course.’

Dan lifted a red whiteboard marker and started circling words. When he was done, he stepped back. ‘I don’t really understand what it means… But that is the coded message right there.’

Jack and Spence scanned the board. ‘What are we looking at?’

Dan lifted the email. See the subject line… It reads “Number Five.” I took a hunch to see if that was the key.’

‘Was it?’ Jack asked, confused as ever. He never was any good with this coded stuff.

‘Yep…’ Dan said. ‘Number Five in the subject heading was a reference to the key, meaning every 5th word in the sentence.’ He counted out every 5th word and showed how it was circled. The hidden message was, “Love the world with the readiness of children”.’

Jack’s frowning gaze met Spence. ‘What does that mean?’

Spence shook an equally confused head.

‘It would’ve meant something to the email recipient…’ Dan said.

Jack returned to his folder and flicked through the pages. He lifted out another email. ‘What about this one…? Can you break that?’ While Dan read the email, Jack tapped one of the printouts on the whiteboard. ‘That’s this one… The judge received it on the Friday, the week before.’ He updated Spence.

‘Yep, this is the same cipher…’ Dan said. ‘The key is in the subject line heading, “Ensure you respond within three days” The key is the number three.’ Dan circled every third word on the printout attached to the whiteboard.

Jack read Dan’s work out aloud. ‘It is never too late to enjoy a childhood,’ he read. His frowning focus shifted to Spence. ‘Mean anything to you…?’

Spence shook his head. ‘Not really…’

Jack returned to his file and retrieved the remaining four emails the judge received, every Friday in the weeks preceding his murder. He handed them to Dan.

One-by-one, Dan deciphered the emails, then circled the decoded words on each printout.

Let them be little

Kids make you want to start life over

Innocence is so much more powerful than experience

The innocence of children is what makes them stand out

‘I have no idea what these six sentences refer to…’ Jack said. ‘But we know O’Brien and the judge both received this one.’ He tapped the first printout.

Jack stood deep in contemplation as he examined each sentence, all of which were meaningless to him. He was on his third pass when the something he searched for, jumped out at him.

‘These ciphers Danny worked out…’ Jack said. He flicked a finger at the board. ‘There appears to be a common thread through each one…’

Spence shifted his focus to the ciphers. He watched as Jack lifted a red marker and underlined one word in each sentence.

Love the world with the readiness of children

It is never too late to enjoy a childhood

Let them be little

Kids make you want to start life over

Innocence is so much more powerful than experience

The innocence of children is what makes them stand out

He capped the marker and stepped back to examine his work. His raised eyebrows looked to Spence. ‘See it…?’

Spence’s eyes scanned the sentences. He nodded. ‘I do…’

‘Every sentence has a reference of some description to children…’ Jack said. ‘So the question is, why would the judge receive these coded messages relating to children…?’

‘I don’t like where this is heading,’ Spence said. ‘I don’t like it at all…’

Jack shook his head. His eyes never left the board. ‘Neither do I…’ he said. ‘Here’s a judge who threw out a case against this known pedophile…’ He tapped Harker’s photo. ‘Now we find out Judge Davis had been receiving these coded messages that related to children…’ Jack rubbed a contemplative hand across his mouth.

‘And he received them all on a Friday, before the weekend…’ Spence added.

‘And we know from The Yale Club footage… Every Saturday night, for the five weeks prior to his shooting, the judge left at 9pm, but did not return home until midnight…’

‘So what about Goodfellow, then …’ Spence said. ‘The judge was on his way to a,’ Spence held up quotation mark fingers. ‘Party at Goodfellow’s, when he was shot?’

Jack studied the whiteboard in silence while he absorbed the direction things were heading. ‘Maybe everything is not as it seems…’ He said. ‘We know O’Brien, at the very least, received one of these messages,’ Jack said. He tapped the message, “Love the world with the readiness of children.”

‘And he was the defense attorney for the case Judge Davis threw out…’ Spence added knowingly.

‘And now they’re all dead…’ Jack said, thinking out aloud. ‘I think we have to address the elephant in the room, Spence.’

Spence nodded in agreement. ‘It’s looking more and more like Judge Davis was a kiddy fiddler,’ Spence said.

‘Kiddy fiddler…?’ Dan said. ‘I’ve never heard that term before. Is that a pedophile, or something?’

‘Or something…’ Jack said. ‘Were any of these other ciphers on O’Brien’s laptop, Spence?’ Jack gestured to the other five cipher sentences the judge received via email.

Spence scanned the board. He shook his head. ‘No. O’Brien’s email history had been deleted.’

‘Get in touch with IT and see if they can recover any of the deleted emails,’ Jack said.

‘Will do,’ Spence said. ‘Tell me… How did you know this stuff, Danny?’ Spence jabbed a thumb at the whiteboard.

‘When I finished my masters around three years ago, I decided to complete a computer science degree… One of the electives I took studied ciphers and codes. One of the ciphers covered this null cipher, which is why I recognized it… I’ve studied versions of it before.’

‘Good thing you were here, then…’ Spence said.

Jack checked his watch. ‘Oh shoot… We better get going. Sarah and Lynnie will be waiting for us,’ Jack said.

He jabbed a thumb at the whiteboard. ‘We’ll continue this when I get back,’ he said to Spence.

‘Enjoy…’ Spence said as they departed the office.

Chapter 17

Assistant District Attorney Phil Box arrived on time for their scheduled 11am meeting.

After receiving a phone call from the front desk advising of his arrival, Jack scooped up the file, while Spence grabbed the laptop, and they met their visitor at reception.

Dressed in a dark pin striped suit and red tie, Phil Box was in his early forties and of average height. The lights glistened off his dark slicked back hair. He had a strong chiseled jaw and wore wire-thin round-framed “Harry Potter” style glasses.

He stood with a military parade posture and spoke with a reassuring confidence befitting an assistant district attorney.

From the front reception area, Jack escorted Phil back-of-house to the interrogation room. When Phil was informed of their intended destination, he initially resisted to meeting Jack in the room where offenders and suspects were interrogated.

Jack informed Phil, ‘at this point in time, Phil, you are a person of interest, so we have protocols and systems in place we have to follow, so….’ His voice trailed off.

Phil reluctantly conceded.

After entering the room, Jack directed Phil to the single chair at the only table in the room. Jack and Spence moved to the two chairs opposite Phil.

Jack and Spence dumped their items on the table, while Phil slid into the chair. Phil leaned his elbows on the table as he took a glance around the inhospitable room.

The interrogation room was a rectangular room with dark gray, sound proof walls and was intentionally unwelcoming to its occupants.

There were no windows and only one door. The centrally located lighting was deliberately low. The table was positioned in the center of the room.

Phil faced the large two-way mirror on the east wall of the room.

Jack noticed Phil checking out the room. ‘Have you been in here before, Phil?’ Jack asked.

Phil shook his head. ‘First time…’

‘So, not even back in your days as a defense attorney…?’

‘Not in here, no.’

Jack opened the file on the desk and sorted through some pages.

Phil jabbed a finger at the two-way mirror. ‘Is this interview being recorded from the other room through there…?’ Phil asked.

Jack glanced over his shoulder at the mirror. ‘No. There is no recording happening. We are only making inquiries at this stage, so this is just a discussion. We don’t need to record it.’

‘You’re not intending to make any complaints against us, are you, Phil?’ Spence said, with a hint of flippancy. ‘Coz if you are… We may have to start recording.’

Phil grinned. ‘No. I think you’re safe.’ He shifted his focus to Jack. ‘So, Jobs… What do you want to talk to me about?’

‘Judge Davis,’ Jack began. ‘Let’s start with the comments you made outside court after the case.’

Phil sat back in chair. He shrugged. ‘You know what… To be honest, I can’t even remember what I said.’

‘Let me see if I can jog your memory.’ Jack read from his notes. ‘You approached a small group of people standing in the hall, directly outside the court room, and asked if anyone knew a good hit man, because someone needed to do society a favor and take that judge out…’ Jack lifted his eyes to Phil. ‘Or words to that effect… Sound familiar?’

‘That’s probably correct. I said something like that about the judge.’

‘And a few weeks later… The judge was taken out on 2nd Avenue—execution style.’

Phil’s eyebrows arched. ‘And you think I did that because of the comments I made outside court?’ Phil shook his head. ‘I don’t even own a gun, gentlemen.’

‘The shooting was a professional hit, so… I gotta ask you this Phil. Did you hire someone to take the judge out for you?’

‘Yeah, you got me.’ Phil lifted his hands in the air like he was told to “put ’em up.” ‘I called dial-a-hitman from the yellow pages and arranged to have the judge killed,’ Phil said, oozing with sarcasm. ‘Are you kidding me, guys…? Come on. You know me better than that.’

’We know you Phil… But we don’t really know you…’ Jack said. ‘I don’t know if shooting the judge is beyond your capabilities. I don’t know how it affected you psychologically when the judge lambasted you in open court and threw your case out…’

Phil shook his head. ‘Do you know how many cases I’ve had thrown out in my time…?’ Phil asked rhetorically. ‘Too many to count, and this was just another one. It happens from time to time. Sometimes… It’s out of my control. By the time I walked out onto the street, I’d all but forgotten about it. So no… I did not shoot the judge and I did not arrange someone to shoot the Judge. OK?’

Spence booted up the laptop, while Jack continued. ‘We have CCTV footage of 2nd Avenue on the night Judge Davis was killed,’ Jack said.

Phil leaned on his elbows to focus on the screen. Spence fast forwarded the footage to the relevant time and hit pause. He pointed to Phil standing in the crowd of onlookers. ‘That is you,’ Spence said.

Phil moved his head closer. He squinted at the frozen footage. He sat back in his chair and eyed Spence and Jack. ‘Yes, that’s me. So… What’s the problem?’ He held out upturned palms.

Jack held Phil’s gaze, while he allowed a few beats to pass, before responding. ‘You’re standing in the crowd at the crime scene tape boundary, watching on where Judge Davis was murdered…’

‘So were about two hundred other people… Are you intending to drag them in here…?’

‘We’re not aware if any of them threatened to put a hit on the judge…’ Jack said.

‘Do you see how ridiculous this is?’ Phil asked.

‘Look… It’s straight forward really. You make this threat about needing a hitman to do society a favor… Two, or so weeks later, the judge is taken out by a professional hit and you happen to be standing among the crowd watching the aftermath.’

‘Is this why you’ve dragged me in here…?’ Phil began. ‘When I was standing there among all those people,’ he flicked a hand at the laptop. ‘Watching on from that far away… None of us standing there knew what had happened, or who was in the vehicle… So to say I was standing there watching the scene where the judge was murdered implies I knew it was Judge Davis in the vehicle… I did not.’

‘OK. So tell me… Why was it that you just happened to be in the area on the night Judge Dixon was shot and killed?’ You don’t live in mid-town…’

‘You know where I live, jobs… You’ve were there at last year’s Christmas party… I live over the river near your neck of the woods…’

‘So why were you there at that time…?’

Phil shook his head. ‘If you must know… My wife and I went out to an Italian dinner at Ristorante Bonnano’s.’

‘Bonanno’s…?’ Jack’s frowning gaze looked to Spence. ‘Do you know Bonnano’s…?’

Spence frowned as he shook his head.

‘It’s on 2nd near East 45th,’ Phil said. ‘Do you know the location of every restaurant in New York City, or something…?’

Jack ignored Phil’s obvious rhetorical question. ‘Did you and your wife have a reservation?’ Jack caught Spence’s eye. No words needed to be exchanged. It was a silent request for Spence to go and contact the restaurant to confirm the booking.

‘Of course. Try and get into a New York City Restaurant without one…’ Phil said. He watched Spence stand and exit the room.

‘What time was your booking?’

‘7.30.’

‘What did you order…?’

Phil’s face distorted like he’d sucked on a lemon. ‘For Chrissakes, Jobs… I can’t remember what I had for dinner last night…’

Jack stalled the questioning. He turned some pages in the file, while he waited for Spence to return.

‘Do you really believe I’m your perp…?’ Phil said with a tone of desperation. Jack didn’t respond. ‘Come on, Jobs… This is getting ridiculous. I came down here voluntarily to clear this bullshit up. Do you think I’d walk in here if I had something to hide? You know as well as I do… I’d be taking the fifth rather than answering your questions…’

‘I really don’t know the answer to that, Phil…’

Phil rolled his eyes. He waved a frustrated hand at Jack, then collapsed back in his chair and tightly crossed his arms.

Phil’s head snapped towards the door when Spence returned. When Jack caught Spence’s gaze, Spence gave an almost indiscernible single head shake. He resumed his seat beside Jack.

‘So, just to confirm…’ Jack began. ‘You had a reservation at Bonnano’s on Saturday February 6th 2021, the same night the judge was shot and killed…?’ Jack said.

Phil’s concerned eyes shifted from Jack to Spence. ‘That’s right…’ he said, this time lacking any conviction. His upward inflection made his response sound like a question.

Jack looked to Spence. That was Spence’s cue. ‘You’ve probably realized by now, Phil…’ Spence began. ‘But I just called Ristorante Bonnanos’ to verify your story… They have no record of your booking for Saturday February 6th 2021.’

‘Ah well, they wouldn’t, would they… My wife made the booking and she goes by a different surname to mine…’ Jack frowned his confusion. ‘She goes by her maiden name…’

‘I see. What is your wife’s surname?’ Jack said. He pointed to the door. ‘You realize we’re going to call the restaurant to verify your story…’

Phil exhaled heavily. He ran a hand across his mouth, then gestured to the mirror. ‘Are you sure this isn’t being recorded?’

‘One hundred percent sure.’

‘OK…’ Phil began. ‘I haven’t exactly been completely honest with you.’ Jack and Spence exchanged a brief glance. Phil raised a finger. ‘I did not kill Judge Davis, or arrange for his killing… Let me be clear of that. OK?’

‘OK.’

‘But I wasn’t at Bonnano’s on that Saturday night…’

‘Which we already know…’ Jack said.

‘I was on a date.’

‘A date…? With your wife…?’ Jack clarified.

Phil’s embarrassed eyes fell heavily to the table. He shook his head. ‘Not with my wife… You’ve heard of Tinder?’

‘Of course…’

‘I was on a Tinder date. My wife and I had been going through a trial separation for a period now… So I sought out company on Tinder. I’m a little embarrassed, because technically, I’m still married.’

‘Not “technically” Phil. You are still married,’ Jack said.

‘Which is why I need your discretion here guys…’

‘Where did you go on this date?’

‘The Opal Bar…’

‘That one I know,’ Jack said. ‘It’s the Australian bar on the north-east corner of 2nd and East 45th.’

‘That’s it. We had a table by the window, on the upper floor, with a view down 2nd. We saw all the commotion down near East 45th from our table.’

‘So you left your date to go and have a look…?’

Phil shook his head. ’No. No. The date didn’t work out. There was nothing wrong with her. She was quite cute. But during our conversation I was too honest. I told her I was married, but the marriage was over. She said she’d heard that one before and she didn’t want to be a home wrecker, so she ended the date and left me there.

‘When I got out on the street, I decided to wander down to see what all the commotion was. At that time I had no idea what had happened, or who was in the vehicle…’

Jack exchanged a glance with Spence. His story sounded credible, even to the cynical Jack.

‘What was your date’s name, Phil?’ Spence asked, with his own tone of cynicism.

Phil removed his cellphone. He tapped and slid his finger across the screen. He turned the display to face Jack and Spence. ‘Just showing you, so you believe me… That there is my Tinder profile…’ Jack and Spence leaned forward to read the small screen.

Phil turned the screen back to himself and tapped the screen several times. He turned the cell back to Jack and Spence. ‘That is my date history there… You will see her name there… Christina Moralez… And the chat where we hooked up on Saturday February 6th.’

Jack accepted the cell and read the display. When he was done, he handed it to Spence. Everything Phil said about his date was all there on his app, even the location where they met.

‘We’ve got to step out and check a few things, Phil. We won’t be long. Can I get you a water, or a soda…?’

Phil checked his watch. ‘No thanks. I’m good,’ he said.

Jack scooped us his file and they left the room.

Chapter 18

Jack and Spence moved out of interrogation and into the neighboring viewing room. They stood at the two-way mirror looking in on Phil.

‘What’s your thoughts, Jobs?’

‘The Tinder app showed Phil certainly had the date, but what the app doesn’t do is prove he wasn’t involved in the judge’s killing.’

‘Agree.’

‘He still could have arranged the hit, then arranged the date as his alibi.’

‘Absolutely he could’ve… But I’m not convinced he was involved in the judge’s shooting.’

‘I have to agree, Spence. He’s credible, if nothing else. There’s no direct evidence linking him to the crime… All we have is circumstantial evidence…’

‘Which is weak, at best…’

‘Agree.’

Both men stood watching Phil in silent contemplation, while they considered their next move.

‘OK…’ Jack began. ‘We’ll have to verify his story with his date… But we’ve got nothing on him at the moment, so I’ll wrap this up. Given the new information about the judge we learned with Dan’s help, I think I’ll ask Phil about the circumstances as to why the judge threw the pedophile case out, then cut him loose.’

Phil impatiently checked his watch when Jack and Spence re-entered the interview room. ‘How much longer is this going to take…?’ Phil said.

‘I only have a few more questions for you, Phil, then you’ll be right to go,’ Jack said. Jack and Spence slid into their chairs. Phil sat with his hands clasped on the table.

‘So… I’m a little curious…. Why did the judge throw your case out?’

He shook his head. ‘I was seeking an adjournment because we had received new information that needed to be verified. His Honor complained that this would’ve been our third adjournment and waffled on about the time the case had taken to get to court and how the defendant had already been inconvenienced by the two previous adjournments,’ Phil said. ‘He denied our application for an adjournment and asked if we were prepared to proceed. I told him we were not, so in his wisdom, he dismissed the charges and threw it out.’

Jack glanced at Spence. Prior to today, the judge’s actions may not have raised an eyebrow from them. However, knowing what they recently learned, the judge’s actions were consistent with concerns held. Clearly, the judge was protecting Harker, the pedophile defendant.

‘And that angered you, didn’t it…?’

‘Honestly…? It frustrated me at the time. It was a ridiculous decision and did nothing but discredit the judge, in my opinion.’

‘What was the new evidence you had to verify?’

‘Doesn’t matter now, does it…?’ Phil said. ‘But the lead investigator from your special victim’s division…’ He lifted a finger to the ceiling. ‘I think they’re upstairs in this building, aren’t they…?’

‘They are.’

‘The lead investigator had information implicating Harker in grooming young kids for a pedophile ring.’

‘Young boys…?’ Jack asked.

Phil shook his head. ‘No. Both sexes. Young boys and girls around ten to thirteen years of age.’

Jack shook a disgusted head. His jaw tightened hearing about such a depraved group. Jack’s expertise was in investigating murders, not pedophiles. To him, it was far easier dealing with deceased victims, than having to listen to the horror of abuse these predators caused to young, alive victims.

‘What was the source of the information?’ Jack asked.

‘One of the kids involved. He was too scared to talk to us because… What these people do is… they threaten to kill the kids, or their families, if they talk, so the lead investigator was trying to convince this poor kid to come forward. That’s why we needed the adjournment. If he could be flipped, the kid was going to provide details of where these pedophile groups meet.’

Little did Phil realize, Jack had more than a passing interest in this information about the pedophile ring. If he was to catch the killer he sought, he had to wander down these seedy rabbit holes into a world he despised, to learn more about these groups.

‘Who was the lead on that case?’ Jack asked.

‘Tony Caretti. Do you know him?’

‘I’ve met him. But don’t know him.’

‘Anyway, As you know… Harker got off the charge, but things have a way of working themselves out, don’t they? I mean, that piece of shit Harker got his, didn’t he?’

Jack held a silent but firm glare at Phil’s comment. Phil noticed. A glare from Jack would melt stone and was not something anyone wanted to be on the end of.

‘I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re mulling over…’ Phil said. ‘I’m not sad he’s gone, but I had nothing to do with it, or the judge.’

‘Noted,’ Jack said. ‘How well did you know Judge Davis?’

‘How well does anyone know a judge…?’ Phil asked, rhetorically. ‘He wasn’t one that you could even try to warm to… you know what I mean?’

‘Probably more than you think…’ Jack said. He closed the file. ‘Anyway, Phil. We’re done here. Thanks for coming down. You’ve helped clear up a few issues.’

Phil stood from his seat. ‘Do you still think I’m your killer…?’

‘What you’ve provided us here today has been helpful in our investigation, which as you would appreciate, is ongoing.’ Jack lifted his file and extended a hand towards the exit door. ‘Thanks for coming down.’

Jack and Spence followed Phil from the room. Once outside, Spence escorted Phil to the front foyer, while Jack returned to his office.

---

After they got rid of Phil Box, Jack and Spence met in Jack’s office to discuss their next course of action.

Both agreed, the evidence and information Phil provided fell a long way short of exonerating him from the investigation. But after meeting with him, he had moved well down their list of potential suspects.

Jack and Spence discussed the coded ciphers and their clear reference to children. They discussed how Harker was a known pedophile who groomed kids.

They discussed how the judge threw Harker’s pedophile case out. Did the judge know Harker personally, or was he simply looking after someone like-minded?

They discussed how the judge and defense lawyer, O‘Brien each received the same coded cipher via email, which raised the question over O’Brien’s integrity.

And they discussed how the judge was on his way to a party at Goodfellow’s apartment.

All four were shot and killed and all four could be linked, in some way, to a common denominator – pedophiles.

If they did have a hate killer on the loose, the killer had to know about the secret, depraved lives of those he killed. So the question remained, how did the killer find out about such a secretive and protected network locked up tightly from the rest of the world?

Tony Caretti up in Special Victims could hold the missing pieces to the jigsaw puzzle they have assembled. They decided to pay him a visit.

Chapter 19

The Special Victims Division was located on the third floor in Jack’s building. Spence’s earlier phone call to Tony ensured he was in the office and expected their arrival.

Detective Sergeant Tony Caretti met his visitors at the SVD reception, before escorting them to his desk.

He was a short, thickset man in his late fifties. His goatee beard offset his bald head. He was a shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows kind of guy and went with the no tie option.

The SVD was a smaller office than Jack’s bull pen. A total of six desks occupied most of the floor space. At the side, an office with an open venetian blind hanging in the window, overlooked the room. A meeting room was located beside that.

Jack and Spence nodded their muted greetings to the three other Detectives seated at their desks.

At his desk, Tony wrenched open a drawer and pulled out a thick file. He closed the drawer firmly with his foot then said, ‘this way gentlemen.’

Jack and Spence followed Tony into the meeting room. About the size of an average bedroom, the meeting room doubled as the team’s kitchen. A sink, a microwave and a coffee machine sat on a kitchen-style bench on the left wall.

In the center of the room a rectangular, veneer top table was surrounded by eight chairs. A tray holding a glass jug of water and eight upturned glasses, sat in the middle of the table.

Tony dumped the file on the table. A muffled thud reverberated around the small room. He indicated the chairs to his right. ‘Have seat,’ he said then slid into his own chair.

He extended a hand at the water jug. ‘Help yourself to some water…’ he said.

Jack held up a hand. ‘We’re good.’

Tony turned to the side, to face his visitors. He leaned an elbow on the table and crossed a leg. ‘So… You mentioned you were interested in the Harker case…’

‘We are. As you know, Harker was found shot dead in his Florist shop…’

Tony nodded. ‘Can’t say I’m saddened by the loss… He was a piece of shit of the highest caliber.’

‘We understand Harker groomed young children for a pedophile ring. What can you tell us about that?’

‘What’s your interest here…? How does that help your case?’

‘Harker was a professional hit. We suspect whoever shot Harker was taking out the trash, because we’ve also got three other bodies on a slab in the morgue, each one a professional hit, like Harker. We suspect each was part of the seedy underworld Harker groomed the children for.’

‘What do you need from me…?’

‘Well… If the shooter knew Harker was a pedophile… To find the shooter, we need to know how he knew that, and to find that out… We need to learn more about the circles Harker traveled in…’

Tony aggressively scratched the back of his head, presumably in contemplation. He flipped open the cover of his file. ‘Some of this information is sensitive…you understand…?’

‘Of course.’

‘Harker targeted young children, boys and girls between the ages of ten to thirteen years, mostly from the projects, but also those who lived rough on the streets…’

‘There are ten-year-old street kids….?’ Spence said as a question.

‘Not a lot… But yeah, you better believe it…’

‘Unbelievable,’ Spence said. ‘In all my years on the streets I have never seen someone that young living rough… Where are their parents?’

‘Jail. Dead. Crack heads… You name it. Often their fourteen-year-old brother, or sister raised them.’

‘Blind leading the blind…’ Spence said.

‘Pretty much.’

‘So, what you’re saying is… They’re easy targets,’ Spence said.

‘Yep.’ Tony said matter-of-fact. He flipped over a glass and poured himself a water. He held the jug out to Spence and Jack. They waved it away. He replaced the jug and took a sip.

’What these ass ’oles like Harker do is, they lure these kids in with gifts. Remember, these are kids from the poorest of neighborhoods and suddenly they could own the latest iPhone – all paid for. Or they could own a new pair of the latest Jordan’s, or designer label clothing. Some are promised alcohol, or cigarettes.

‘In reality, they’re easy to spot. Look for a kid in a poor neighborhood who doesn’t fit… and he or she’s probably already been groomed…’

‘I know I shouldn’t be shocked by this… But I gotta tell ya,’ Jack said. ’I just wanna kill ‘em…’

Tony shrugged. ‘What can I tell ya… We all have to restrain ourselves, at times. The last thing we want is for these perps to walk because one of us let our true emotions get the better of us…’

Tony talked the talk, but Jack could see, it was under an element of sufferance, torn between how he wanted to treat these perps, versus what he had an obligation to do.

‘Surely they run the risk these kids will tell someone…?’ Spence said.

Tony shook his head. ‘No. See that is part of their control. They own these kids. And to make sure… they threaten them, or they threaten their families, if any of them tell. They make it clear to them, they will end up becoming a missing person… The inference could not be any clearer, even to a kid.’

‘So, when you say “threaten them”… You mean, they threaten to kill them, right…? Them, or their family members,’ Jack said.

Tony slowly nodded his confirmation.

Jack shook a disgusted head. He flicked a finger at the water jug. ‘You know what… I think I will have some water…’ He poured himself a glass and took a long sip. It wasn’t the bourbon he craved right now, but it was something to lubricate his throat.

The anger and contempt he held for these predators was palpable right now. He always held a broad understanding of what these vermin did, but to sit here and listen, first-hand to what they did and how they did it, was very difficult. All Jack could think about was these poor young vulnerable kids.

‘Has there been many of these,’ Jack held up quotation mark fingers. “Missing kids”…?’

Tony straightened himself in his chair and walked his fingers through the thick file. He lifted a wad of pages and unceremoniously dropped them on the table in front of Jack. If by his actions, Tony was looking for maximum impact, he most certainly got it.

The top half of the pages spread to reveal each was a missing person report.

Jack gestured to the reports. ‘Every one of those… Is a victim to these vermin…?’ Jack said as a question.

‘Correct.’

‘How many are there?’ Jack flicked a disgusted finger at the pile of reports.

‘One hundred eighty-six…’

Jack’s eyebrows disappeared under his hair line. ‘One Hundred, eighty-six missing kids…’ Jack shook his head. The more he heard, the more he was disgusted. ‘Over what period is that…?’

‘June to December last year …’

‘One Hundred eighty-six kids in six months…? They can’t all be victim to the one child sex ring, could they?’

‘Doubtful. You can guarantee there would be a network of these rings in the tri state area. Some of these kids would be lured away, or swapped like a possession to other groups, and others would never be found again. Some are probably shipped interstate.’

‘How many of these kids have been found?’

Tony held Jack’s questioning gaze while several beats passed by. ‘None,’ Tony said. He scooped up the missing person reports and returned them to his file. He lifted a second pile. ‘This is the pile of ones found…’ He said as he dropped them in front of Jack.

Jack’s eyes fell to the smaller pile of missing person reports. The top report had a red, “LOCATED DECEASED” stamped across it. Jack thumbed through the first twelve, or so pages. Each one had the same red stamp branding.

Jack’s shocked eyes lifted to Tony. ‘Those that you’ve located, were all deceased…?’ he said as a question.

‘Those are just the ones who were found…’ Tony said. ‘Once these kids get too old and lose their appeal, or if they can no longer be trusted to keep quiet,’ Tony scooped up the reports, bounced them on the table to align them, then returned them to his file, before continuing. ‘They simply bury their secrets. Some kids they overdose with a hotshot… Make it appear like just another street kid who lost their way, but most are never found again.’

‘So let me see if I understand you here…’ Jack began. ‘These predators lured these kids in, abused them over whatever period of time, then when they’ve finished with them…they…’ His voice trailed off.

‘You got it. So now you can understand how we felt when a piece of shit like Harker got off for grooming these kids…’

’Who do you think did society a favor and got rid of Harker?

‘I can’t help you there, gentlemen. I’m sorry.’

‘Fair enough. I understand,’ Jack began. ‘Do you have any names of the members of the pedophile ring Harker groomed the kids for?’

‘We were hoping our latest young vic would’ve given these details to us. But he’s gone to ground. We’ve lost him…’

‘Hiding or taken…?’

‘Take your pick,’ Tony said. ‘All I know is, he’s gone. These are sophisticated networks of some of the most powerful people… You’d be shocked to learn of the type of person who belonged to these groups. They’re a cult… a virtually impenetrable cult.’

‘So what you’re telling us is… You have no information on any of these “cult” members,’ Jack said.

‘I don’t think I have anything further that would assist you in your investigation, gentlemen…’

‘We have a killer who appears to know about the inner workings of these groups…’ Jack said.

‘Quite possibly so…’ Tony said. He checked his watch.

Jack took the not-too-subtle hint and wrapped up their meeting.

Tony escorted his visitors to the SVD Reception. From there, Tony returned to his desk, Jack and Spence moved to the elevators.

Jack hit the call button. Spence checked over a shoulder, towards reception. ‘Was it just me, or was he holding back in there…?’

Jack’s eyes lifted to monitor the progress of the next elevator. ‘I think he told us all he was prepared to tell us. Does he know more than he let on…? I think he does.’

The elevator pinged and the doors sprung open. Jack stepped inside; Spence followed. ‘Either way, we’re not getting anything further from him. Not at this stage, anyway,’ Jack said, as the doors swallowed them up.

Chapter 20

When the elevator released them back on the ground floor, Spence said, ‘I don’t know about you… But I could kill a coffee right now… Do you want one…?’

‘You bet…’ Jack slid a folded twenty from his shirt pocket and held it out to Spence.

Spence waved it away. ‘I got this…’

They parted ways at the door to the bull pen. Spence continued towards the building’s front street exit and their favorite, nearest coffee shop, while Jack returned to his desk.

The afternoon mail sat in a pile on his desk when he arrived. Jack nudged the pile of envelopes to spread them. He passed a cursory glance, to assess if there was anything important.

The branding on the fifth envelope in the pile caught his eye. He lifted it and examined it, then flipped it over to check the back, as he moved around and dropped into his chair.

Using a letter opener from his top drawer, he sliced open the top of the envelope.

Jack reclined his chair, slipped on his glasses and read the forensic ballistics report.

The report found, “Four nine-millimeter Luger rounds were examined. The direction of the twist lines and the number, width and depth of the depressed and raised parallel lines — “lands and grooves” found the rounds were all fired from the same weapon, most likely a Glock 19.”

Jack had his confirmation. Same weapon and from the technique used, same shooter. He dropped the report onto his desk. ‘Glock 19…’ He scoffed. ’They’re like ass ‘oles… everybody’s got one of them…’ he muttered to himself.

By now, his coffee cravings had increased exponentially. He checked his watch, then leaned to his side to glance out his office door, checking for Spence’s imminent return.

While he rued Spence’s coffee run delay, his new email tone pinged. Jack opened the new email. His face tightened when he read the email. He checked the sender’s email address. It was not familiar to him.

He remembered the recent advice he received from IT, so he booted up Google and typed in, “email validator”, then selected one from the returned list of options.

As he suspected, when he typed in this latest email address into the email validator, it came back as, “domain not found”.

According to his previous advice from IT, a ‘Domain Not Found’ response indicated the email address was not genuine.

Jack fell back in his chair. His brow furrowed. How can I receive an email from a non-existent email address…?

His deep contemplation was broken when Spence entered his office. ‘Here ya go, Jobs…’ He said. ‘Extra hot. Just how you like it.’ Jack accepted his coffee.

‘What’s up…?’ Spence said. He slid into the visitor chair. ‘You looked deep in thought there. What have ya got…?’

Jack flicked a finger at his computer monitor. ‘I just received this email five minutes ago…’ Jack began. ‘The email address is not valid… But it’s the message that I find equally concerning. Have a look.’

Spence stood from his chair and moved around the desk to stand beside Jack. He leaned on his hands while he read the email out aloud.

“I am very disappointed in you Lieutenant Head -you and your department. I sent you information via email that exposed these people for who they are and yet you did nothing about it. Instead you allowed the media to portray them as innocent victims, when you know the truth… The only innocent victims here are the poor children they abused. They all got what they deserved…”

Spence stood back up. He rubbed a contemplative hand across his mouth. ‘Our shooter…?’ he said as a question.

‘Has to be, doesn’t it?’

‘And you’re saying that was sent from an invalid email address…?’

‘According to this email validator I found online…’

‘How reliable is it…? Maybe you should try another one.’

Jack brought back up his browser and selected a further three other free email validator websites. Each one returned the same result – “Domain Not Found”.

’Ok. That’s fairly consistent. So what emails are you supposed to have received…? Spence asked.

‘I haven’t received any emails. Look here…’ Jack scrolled back through his inbox history. ‘Wait…’ He stopped when he came across the email he received the Wednesday following the judge’s shooting. ‘Remember this one,’ he said. He opened it up onto his screen.

‘Ah, yeah, right. The Nathaniel Hawthorne quote about two faces, or something like that, and the photo of the guy with a mask…’ Spence said.

Jack continued to scroll through his inbox. ‘Well… That was the only unusual email I received that could possibly relate to the shootings,’ Jack said.

‘That latest message there reads like it referred to more than one email sent,’ Spence said.

‘That’s how I read it as well.’ Jack lifted his handset and dialed a number. Spence returned to his chair. ‘I’ll give Barry in IT a call,’ Jack said.

The phone answered after three rings.

‘Hey, Barry. Jobs. How ya doin’…?’

‘Hey, Jobs.’

‘I’m in my office with Spence. I’ve got you on speaker phone,’

‘Hey, Spence. What can I do for you guys…?’

‘I recently received an email from an external source and they advised me they sent me a number of emails some time ago… Problem is… I don’t appear to have received them…’

‘OK. Is the external source in your list of contacts…?’

‘No.’

‘OK… And you have checked your junk mail folder to make sure they weren’t rejected by the security scan as spam…?’ he said as question.

‘No. I haven’t checked the Junk folder. I’ll do it now…’ Jack opened the junk mail folder and scrolled through it. ’Ah… You’re kidding me… Here they are… OK. I’ve got ‘em. Thanks Barry.’

‘That was easy. I’ll leave you with it…’

Jack ended the call and opened up the missing emails one-by-one. ‘OK these were all received around the same time,’ Jack said. He checked the details on the whiteboard. ‘Two days after the bodies of O’Brien and Harker were found.’

’Are they similar to the Nathaniel Hawthorne two faces email…? ’Spence asked.

Jack nodded as he read his screen. ‘Yep.’ He lifted his chin to his monitor. ‘I’d say this one here relates to O’Brien… It has a quote from Jeremy Bentham about lawyers…’ Jack shifted his gaze to Spence. ‘Heard of Jeremy Bentham?’

Spence shook his head. ‘No idea.’

Jack booted up Google and typed ‘Jeremy Bentham’ into the search engine. He clicked on the Wikipedia link. ‘Says here he was an English Philosopher… Died back in 1832.’

Spence scoffed. ’1832…really…? What’s the quote?’

“Lawyers are the only persons in whom ignorance of the law is not punished”, Jack read. His questioning eyes shifted to Spence.

Spence shrugged. ‘Can’t argue with that.’ He grinned.

‘There’s also a photo of a non-descript face with a long Pinocchio-style nose, which is breaking the scales of Justice in half,’ Jack said. ‘Sort of a pictorial metaphor, I guess.’

‘I got nothing,’ Spence said.

Jack opened up the next email. ‘This next one has a quote, I’ll read it to you…’ Jack said. ‘It’s hard to trust someone especially when the ones you trusted most were the ones that betrayed you. There is no name as to who made this quote,’ Jack said.

‘Is there a photo accompanying the quote?’

‘There is. There’s photo of an attractive young woman dressed in a white blouse and grey skirt, standing partially side on, in front of a red wall. Her arms are loosely folded. Her shadow cast behind her on the red wall has devil horns and a pointed tail.’ Jack turned his monitor to face Spence.

Once Spence had looked, Jack turned the monitor back. ’And the last email I have here has the quote, “The Saddest thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies”.’ Jack read. He shook his head. I have no idea what these are supposed to mean.’

‘Is there a photo with the quote?’ Spence asked.

‘There’s a photo of the word “TRUST” printed onto a thin piece of paper, about… two inches wide and eight inches long. The paper is torn in half, through the letter “U”… Obviously symbolizing broken trust.’

‘These are all too deep for me, Jobs.’

Jack brought up the email he received earlier today. ‘In this email I received earlier, the sender wrote, “I sent you information via email that exposed these people for who they are and yet you did nothing about it”.’ He lifted his eyes to Spence. ‘If these are the emails referred to, they aren’t telling me shit,’ Jack said. ‘Could they be coded, or something?’

‘Could all those quotes contain the null cipher, Danny showed us before…?’ Spence said.

‘I suppose, but don’t we need a key, or something…?’

‘I’ve got no idea, Jobs…’

‘OK.’ Jack began. ’Let’s have a look at this. The ‘Scales of Justice’ photo and the quote about lawyers obviously related to O’Brien, right…? So, of the four bodies, that leaves Goodfellow and Harker, because we know the two-face quote was about Judge Davis.’

Spence moved around the desk to view the emails on Jack’s monitor. ‘OK…’ Spence began. ‘My guess is this photo of the woman with the devil shadow is Goodfellow. That leaves the photo of the torn word “Trust” to be Harker.’

‘But wouldn’t a school principal be trusted more than a piece of shit pedophile…?’ Jack said. ‘Goodfellow would’ve broken that trust if he was interfering with kids.’

‘So, Harker was the devil photo then…’ Spence said. ‘OK. That works. But I still don’t understand how these emails have exposed anyone…’

‘They don’t. Well, not to us, anyway. So why send me an email that supposedly exposed these four.’ He gestured to the whiteboard. ‘But then code it, so we are no better off, unless we break the code…?’ ‘Good question. Cheap thrills, maybe…’