Departure

Act 4, Part 4: Mission Murder

The detectives suspect that Eric knows more than he lets on. Steve demonstrates his talent with trivia.

With the Berkeley phone call behind them, Mike and Steve refocused on the Hammer homicide. The detectives decided to pay a visit with Eric Hammer at the pool hall to see if he had any more ideas about what happened to his brother. Both men doubted the exercise would be productive as they had a gut feeling the victim's younger sibling was hiding something.

The bell on the front door of the pool hall rang as the two detectives entered. Eric looked up and nodded a hello.

"Detectives, have you found out anything?" Eric asked anxiously.

"Not as much as we'd like," Mike replied. "That's what brings us back here. We thought now that the initial shock had passed, perhaps something might have triggered a thought on who would have your brother dead."

"No - I've wracked my brain, Lieutenant. I can't come up with anything."

A slight motion to his left caught Steve's eye. The curtain which hung across the door to the supply room moved. "Who else is here, Eric?" Steve asked.

Mike was surprised at the question since he did not see the curtain move.

Eric hesitated for a quick second and then confessed, "There's a young kid who helps around. He keeps the floors and toilet clean. He's in the back room."

"Can you call him out?" Steve pressed.

"Sure," came the reply. Eric raised his voice to get Joey's attention. "Hey, kid. Can you come out here? The cops want to meet you."

Joey peeked through the curtain slowly. Both Mike and Steve were surprised to see such a diminutive youth before them.

"Hello, son," came the greeting from Mike. "What's your name?"

"Joey. Joey Morgan."

"Well, it's good to meet you, Joey Morgan. Just how old are you?"

"Fifteen. Almost sixteen."

Mike looked at Steve and commented, "They look younger all the time, don't they, Steve?"

Steve's eyes locked with the youth and the young detective felt a chill. "Yes, they do," he said quietly.

"Tell me son, did you know Buddy Hammer well?" Mike asked.

"No, sir. I just come in to sweep the floors and run errands for the pool hall."

A quick frown passed over Eric's face. Steve noted the change.

"What kind of errands?" Steve asked.

Realizing that he misspoke, Joey changed his tune. "Sometimes, I go to the store and buy supplies. Sometimes, I go to the post office for them."

Steve squinted and then nodded. "Anything else?"

"No sir," the boy answered with a slight tremor in his voice.

"Do you know of anyone that would want to hurt Buddy?" Mike asked as he redirected the questions to the murder.

"No, honest sir, I don't." The answer came out in a hurry.

"Okay, son. If you think of anything, you make sure you call us, you hear?" Mike used his best fatherly tone.

The boy nodded. "May I go back to the store room now?"

"Sure, son. Go ahead," Mike replied.

After the boy left the room, Mike continued. "The envelope we found at the dumpster had your brother's fingerprints on them. Can you tell us about why that would be?"

"My brother was the victim here, Lieutenant. Why do I get the feeling that you are going after him?"

Steve interjected. "We're not going after your brother, Eric. But if your brother was into drugs, knowing with whom he associated may lead us to who killed him. That's what you want and that's what we want, too."

"Look, Buddy had friends and acquaintances that I didn't know. He's older than I am and I never had a right to pry. Okay? I don't know anything."

"All right, Eric, we get the picture," Mike responded. "Again, if something comes up, you have my card."

Eric took a deep breath before he replied. "Yes, sir."

Mike and Steve left the hall and returned to the car.

"If that kid's on the level, I'll eat my hat," Mike remarked. "I don't buy into the idea that he doesn't know anything. He reacted too strongly when we pressed him about his brother."

"He protested the question too hard," Steve agreed.

"Let's drive around the block - maybe go through the back alley and see what's there."

Steve did as told and parked the car nearly a block away, but still with in view of the front of the pool hall. He looked at his watch. "How long are you planning for us to stay here?"

"Why, got a date or something?"

"No…I'm starving. If there's a sandwich place nearby, I'll run in and get us lunch."

"You know, I'm starting to fade a bit myself. I could use something to eat, too. There's a deli a half block up on the right."

"So long as you have food in your mouth, you have solved all questions for the time being."

"What?"

"Kafka."

"Ah…warming up for your return to academia, I see."

Steve allowed a slight smirk. "Ham, roast beef, or what?"

"Surprise me. But no eggplant - I want meat. And make that red meat."

Steve returned ten minutes later with two Reubens, chips and two sodas.

As he settled back in the driver's seat, Steve removed the tab from the soda can and unwrapped his sandwich. "Do you know the origins of the Reuben sandwich?"

"Absolutely no clue," Mike responded as he took a bite, "but I bet you do."

"It was named after a Russian immigrant, Reuben Kulakofsky. He would make it for his buddies on poker night back in the twenties. They lived in Omaha. Now, one of the poker buddies had a hotel and restaurant there. As it turns out, the poker buddy told his chef about the sandwich. Then, one of chef's staff submitted the recipe to some sort of magazine contest. The recipe won and the Reuben sandwich became famous."

"Why do you know this?"

"I read."

"That didn't come out of your typical text book."

"No, it was a travel magazine that had an article on Omaha."

"Really," Mike replied with abating interest.

"I said 'I read'. I didn't say I was always discriminating in my selections."

"Ah. You know, Steve, if and when you do leave the police department, my intelligence quotient will go down precipitously."

Steve smiled and nodded. "Indeed. Hey, did you use the word 'precipitously' before you met me?"

"Definitely not." Mike chuckled.

The pair finished their sandwiches in companionable silence and watched the entrance to the pool hall.

After several minutes, Mike once again brought up Irene's idea for the dinner party. Apparently the planning was farther along than Mike had elaborated on earlier, but he had been reluctant to push the invitation. Still, the senior detective finally asked, "Are you and Carolyn busy on Saturday?"

"We were going out, but we didn't have anything really planned. I'm sure Carolyn would love to come over. She's met you only in passing, but she hasn't met Jeannie or Irene."

"Or Dan."

"Well, him too," Steve added grudgingly.

"You have your interview Friday afternoon. Perhaps you can tell us how it went on Saturday."

"Do Jeannie and Irene know about this?"

"Yes, they do. They are both quite happy for this opportunity for you, especially Jeannie. She's all about the college life still."

"Well, it would be a good opportunity, that's no doubt," Steve agreed. "What's Irene making, anyway?"

"Pot roast, with all sorts of sides. And it's not just Irene. Jeannie is also helping out and you know how good her cooking is."

"That's the truth. Okay, count us in - and let us know what we can bring."

At that moment, Eric left the pool hall and got into his car. "What do we have here?" Mike asked aloud.

Steve noticed the movement and leaned forward in his seat to observe.

"Okay Steve, we have a read on his car and plates. Now let's see where he's going. Make sure you stay back. I don't want to scare him off."