A few days later, on Friday, Eames returned to Goren's apartment. Ostensibly, she was there to check on Goren, but in reality, she herself also needed to see a friendly face and forget her week. In addition to having to deal with their workload by themselves, she had a nagging feeling that something going on in the squadroom wasn't right. It really wasn't something she could put her finger on, just some things that didn't make sense.
Goren opened the door, and smiled. He looked better than he had earlier in the week, with that look of infectious enthusiasm on his face. He was still dressed in the same casual manner, due to all of his medical paraphernalia, but he had shaved.
Eames opened the pizza box as he got out the plates. As they sat down, she asked,
"So, have you been making any headway?"
"Well, sort of. I mean, one of the cases, the oldest one. I'm pretty sure it was suicide. A girl, maybe 23, went off of the roof of her apartment building on the West Side. It was still open because there had been a series of break-ins in the neighborhood, with the thieves escaping via the roof every time. Hers was the only death ever associated with it." He put down his pizza and wiped his hands. He went over to the desk and picked up the folder. "Look here, this interview with her roommate says that she had been attending a dance class, but she had stopped. Her roommate also said that she hadn't gone out much at all recently, so it didn't look like there was a boyfriend. On the other hand, the roommate said she was sleeping at odd hours. And here, a report from her doctor attached to the autopsy report. She didn't have a history of any medical conditions, but her doctor said that she had been to see him complaining of backaches and a lot of muscle pain. He hadn't been able to find anything wrong. See, all of those are symptoms of depression, but they didn't know that back then. And those break-ins, with no other associated violence, they stopped three weeks later. That was around the same time that Lenny "The Cat" Lowell, who had a history of breaking and entering via the roof, mostly in the Bronx, was arrested and sent to Sing Sing for breaking into a car."
"Wow. That's a lot of headway for one day."
"It's a lot easier with access to the databases and newspaper archives. But you know, that one isn't the most interesting case. The one from 1962 - "
"Bobby, I can stay a while. You can finish your pizza first if you want."
He smiled sheepishly and returned to the table. As they plowed through the second half of the pizza, Goren prodded Eames for details of the squadroom, Eames was surprisingly noncommittal. Then finally, she said, "There's a new guy."
"In Major Case?" Eames nodded. "Where's he from?"
"Well, I know he spent some time at the 27." She decided to just tell him. "I asked him about Van Buren. He didn't seem too thrilled with her."
"That's kind of odd. She's well thought of. I mean, she's no-nonsense, but most cops, you know, meat and potatoes guys, find that a relief. No politics." Eames smiled
"My brother said she reminded him of his junior high school principal."
Goren waited to see if Eames would say more. When she didn't, he decided not to push it. He went back over to the desk and opened another folder.
"This one, this one is really interesting." Eames smiled as he got into his explanatory mode. "See, Roger Walcott was a stockbroker, white shoe firm. Now he was found in City Hall Park in October of 1962. He had been shot with a Luger."
"Like from World War II?"
"That was sort of the problem. A lot of guys still had those around as war souvenirs, and none were registered. They didn't even bother trying to trace it. The investigating officers couldn't find any motive, no conflicts with anyone, happy family life."
"If it was a prominent firm, I'll bet there was a fuss. Extra justice for the rich."
"Yeah, there are a lot of interview reports, and I haven't been through all of them yet. But that's what's so interesting, you know. I mean, all that work, and nothing solid." Goren grew pensive. "I wonder if any of the witnesses are still alive?"
"After 46 years? How old was he?"
"Forty-one. So his contemporaries – "
"Would be in their late 80's. I don't know, Bobby."
"Maybe I'll get lucky. And he had a young daughter."
"She could be alive. You know, Bobby, if you need me to drive you anywhere…" Goren smiled. He had secretly hoped she would be intrigued enough to do this with him.
"That would be nice, Eames."
"I'll tell you what. I probably need to get you more groceries, anyway. I'll come by tomorrow, since it's Saturday. Maybe we can go through the file."
"O-Okay." Eames placed the empty pizza box in the garbage in the kitchen. She walked back out to the living room, and Goren rose to see her to the door. As he opened it, she turned to him.
"Bobby."
"Yeah?"
"Don't stay up until the wee hours reading the file, okay?"
"Okay." She smiled at him and walked over to the elevator. Goren closed the door. He stood for a minute, lingering by the door. Okay, he wouldn't stay up reading the file. Maybe just a little background research on the Internet. He headed over to his computer.