Wednesday 14th May
The Streets Of Brooklyn
Goren guessed he must have been walking for almost two hours. Through lit streets that were slightly familiar. From the last time this became one of his less destructive habits almost eighteen months ago. When night after night his head would not seem to switch off. To either let him get some sleep or stay that way for very long.
Turning over some work problem and his fast disintegrating life. His mother dying and only him around to both handle the issues that arose from that and to deal with the stresses. Frank, he was now so worried about, not so worried back then about either him or Mom that he bothered to show up often, stick around or do anything positive.
His brother in many ways was not "deserving" of his concern now or the insomnia, which resulted for two nights now. And which meant almost every time a phone rang in the Squad Room, Goren expected it to be news a body had been found matched Frank's description. No matter what, you could not get away from the fact they were brothers. The closest biological flesh and blood each other had.
Goren crossed the street to avoid a bar and the alluring scents of different alcohol from within. He had not even begun to go down the route of using that as a sedative like last time. Found himself staring in the window of a toy store. Nice to see that amid all the electronic gizmo's and movie franchised products kids seemed to go for these days, there were some examples of playthings he and Frank would have been very familiar with.
It was sometimes too easy to forget for a lot of years they were very close and like any other brothers. The occasional bickering and for him, as the youngest, the sort of getting picked on now and then was probably quite normal. The superiority Frank would assert at times in ball games simply because he was bigger then and had a head start in terms of skill. But also hours of fun with each other and getting into typical childhood scrapes Frank always took more share of the blame for. Because he was the oldest and "should know better".
Goren turned away and walked on, slightly startled by a trash bin tipping over down an alley and at least one cat yowling in fright as his extra supper almost fell on him. By the time he got to tell Ross everything he knew and some of what he feared yesterday, those fears had already grown. The kid from the computer store had come up with a picture bore a very close resemblance to Frank. At least to himself and Eames were the only people who had seen him recently.
When he left what was essentially a private interview with the Captain and on his desk a few sheets of what he knew about Frank might help them, Goren knew Eames would be uneasy when she was sent for. At being left in "point" position in the enquiry, now teamed with Mike and backed up by Megan and Matt Desmond. But it had to be someone really knew everything inside out and as Ross said, it might be for just a very short time. While they straightened this angle out. As Goren recalled, he even managed to say something to the effect it was likely to turn out to be nothing. Just a pity Ross didn't sound at all convincing when he said it.
That had left Goren having to play catch up with Faith Dempsey on another caseload, which at least kept him "busy". Not so much when they returned an interview uptown, he had not known the progress being made. How there was no sign of Frank or Jenny at the East 91st apartment and best anyone could establish, had not been since the previous night. When they were seen leaving, with a couple of bags, as if going on a short trip.
Possible that was it, but some combination of the four detectives across the room had also established some other things by a mix of guile and threat and the helpfulness of people they had spoken to. Lacey had picked out Jenny from her Oregon driver's licence picture as "possibly" the woman he slept with in Chicago. And through her former employers they established she stayed at the same hotel as Chester Lonsdale. Meaning she might well have made less intimate and casual acquaintance with him.
The one piece of "good news" was however he may or may not be tied into this affair now; Frank could not have been a participant in the initial theft of the computers he delivered. He was firmly alibied by his work sheets from the Excelsior Hotel complex in Miami for that date and six of the other eight robberies. It was only for the last two he was certainly back in New York.
Jenny Archer's movements were harder to track but it was "interesting" to use the word Matt Desmond had, that the Excelsior had her registered for a large part of the two periods Goren himself had noted. The breaks in the pattern of robberies. When he wondered if items were being disposed of in Miami and elsewhere. He supposed Ross, maybe Nichol or someone higher up was speaking to their opposite numbers down in Florida. To get a more determined follow up undertaken and everything onto the local "watch list" for stolen goods reputable buyers would check.
Frank seeming, for a large part, to be in the clear was the one piece of good news he was able to tell Caro. When they spoke last night and he told her the whole story. Expecting to be in trouble for keeping something fairly fundamental from her for fear his covert checking on Jenny would seem like paranoia. One not cured by the death of her cousin, though one, which just might be justified.
Caro had some of the same puzzles he did. About how and why a fairly wealthy woman in her own right might have suddenly turned to a life of criminal associations. Never mind get involved with Frank in this whirlwind romance down in Miami. Talking to her helped set Goren's mind a little at rest if not enough to sleep well and her good news she might have a serious buyer for the Boston house helped. Except it made him more heartsick for it's cosy comfort last winter and the carefree and happy times they had there together. Where he finally got up courage to suggest they try to make this work on a permanent basis.
Goren realised he was staring unseeing into the window of a kitchen and bathroom suppliers. Getting a warm but brief glow at the thought of the squabbles yet to come on those things, if they got the St Luke's Place property. And wondering, before he turned away and headed back in the direction of his apartment, about tubs with central faucets. Whether the advantage of the view he would get of her when they were both in it, offset the loss of physical contact with you both at the same "end". Except one of those gave you the option, so it had to be better and what were a couple of extra feet of pipe work in the scheme of things?
Just a pity he could not focus on all that right now. Not when DNA analysis of that hair stuck under the box tape showed an incredibly close match to only one other on the system. The one they checked first. His own. Somehow Frank's hair got under that tape. And unless Mom and Dad had another son somewhere, it had to be his.
Goren halted on the threshold of a bodega a few blocks from home. He did not need to be going back to nicotine either. He turned away. Two for two in the resistance of temptation was good going. Father John would be proud of him.
The Atlantic Ocean, Three Miles Off Seaside Heights, New Jersey
One man stopped the boat while the other completed the job of tying cinder blocks around the body that lay on a sheet of plastic on the rear sun deck. There was not much blood. Only amateurs used a heavy calibre pistol would blow brain matter somewhere you would then have to clean up. Couple of twenty-two's did the job nicely and no gore and bone splinters to worry about.
They used the sheet to lift and slide him over the side, where he quickly sank to become fish food then tied the plastic around two more blocks and tossed that into the sea. The taller but less heavy of the two returned to the wheel to steer "The Penguin" to its shallow offshore mooring. While his companion lit a cigar and sat in a sheltered spot on the open deck to enjoy it.
That was when he noticed one of the fingers had fallen off. He picked it up and tossed it overboard, where briefly it seemed to give him a single digit gesture. Before it was lost in the wash of the propellers. He poured some soda from a can to remove a small bloodstain. The idiot should have done as he was asked straight way instead of resisting and them needing to get the wire cutters out for persuasion. The end result would have been the same, but he could have saved himself considerable discomfort in the last hour of his life. And them. From his damned squealing with the pain.
Some men never learn or are slow to work things out.
To be continued…
