Caroline and The Body Under The Stairs
Chapter Two
I was still sitting on my couch and Richard was sitting across from me in an armchair when there was a knock on the door. Richard glanced over at me, then walked over and opened the door. Two of New York's finest were standing in the doorway. The older of the two appeared to be in charge. With his salt and pepper gray hair, he was a considerably handsome older man. I fleetingly wondered where Annie was.
"Hello, I'm Lieutenant Phillips and this is Sergeant Watson. We're from the NYPD and were visiting all the tenants in the building. May we come in?"
Richard opened the door wider in response. I escorted them to the couch and sat in the armchair across from them. I noticed Richard sat back down on his own chair at the desk and appeared to be engrossed in his work. I hoped they didn't smell alcohol on my breath.
"Now, you are…" Lt. Phillips had pulled out a small notebook and had a pen poised over a blank page. Sgt. Watson was doing the same. I don't know why I felt nervous, as if I was being grilled. I hadn't done anything wrong.
"Caroline Duffy." I spelled the name out for them. "Is this because of the murder?"
The lieutenant held up his hand to stop me. "Ma'am, we just need some information about the occupants of this apartment right now. Are you the main tenant or are you subletting?"
I confirmed the former. His next question irked me I have to admit. Maybe I'm just too sensitive. "Now, Ms. Duffy, do you live alone or is there a Mr. Duffy?"
I mentally sighed. "I live alone, well, except for my cat." I glanced over at Salty, my white Persian. The officers' eyes followed mine. Salty was sound asleep in her basket, oblivious of everything.
"Well, how about him? Does he live with you?" the Lt. was pointing in Richard's direction. I turned around and looked at Richard who looked up at me at that moment. Turning back to the officers, I admitted that he didn't live there.
"It just seems like it sometimes," came Richard's voice from the desk.
"So, you two are involved? Like an item or something?" Both officers looked at me, pens at the ready. Of course, we weren't involved. Richard just worked for me. I have denied this so many times to curious parties. At first, I had found it laughable to think of being involved with the man. But lately, my denials were weaker, more indecisive. As we had grown closer and I started to understand Richard more and more, I had become more attached to him and, dare I admit it, but also attracted to him. I found myself thinking about him when he wasn't there. It was when the nighttime dreams of being in bed with him started that I sat up and took notice. Unfortunately, I was sure he thought of me as only his boss and a sometimes- irritant person in his life.
"No, we're not involved. I am Caroline's employee. That's all." Richard had jumped into the breach of the conversation. I didn't even have to answer.
"And your name is…" The men scribbled his answer in their notebooks. "But, you come and go during the day time hours, right?"
Richard regarded the men for a few seconds then sighed audibly. "You don't understand. I come in at nine o'clock; I'm chained to this desk and then at five o'clock, Caroline unchains me and I go home. That's all." Both men looked at him then down at their notebooks once again.
The Sgt. spoke up for the first time in our conversation, asking me what I did for a living to be able to work at home. I explained my cartoon strip, holding up a sample. Neither officer appeared to be familiar with it. I was crushed.
The Lt. looked at me once again. "Now, Ms. Duffy, do you recall what you did on Tuesday? Did you notice anyone different in the building, someone who didn't belong?"
I had to laugh at that. There were all types of people in this building, people I noticed all day long coming in and out. I sat puzzling over my answer.
"Tell you what. Why don't you just tell me about your day, starting with when you got up in the morning. Give me all the details, don't leave anything out."
"Don't worry, she won't." I heard Richard mutter behind me. I turned around and gave him a dirty look. He just stared myopically at me.
"Well, let's see." I sat for a moment, trying to remember three days ago. "I got up, made coffee, ate a bagel and cleaned out Salty's litter box. At nine o'clock or thereabouts--" I made a point of turning around and looking at Richard, "Richard comes in to work. Now, I remember. That was the day I had to finish the gift mugs for Mother's Day and Father's Day. I also had to design a set of gift stationary." I got up and grabbed my sample to show the officers. Richard yawned loudly in his chair. I ignored him.
"And what exactly does Mr. Karinsky do again?"
"He colors in my sketches. See?" I held up the new strip board from that day's work. "He even colors inside the lines." I was grinning. That last part was payback for the yawn.
"Okay, go on."
"I did go out to pick up lunch at the deli down the street, you know, the Greek Deli on the corner? Have you ever eaten there?"
The Sgt. spoke up. "Oh, I love that place. Have you tried their-" His eyes met the disapproving ones of his supervisor and he stopped short.
"Then what, Ms. Duffy?" The Lt. was all business.
"Well…I met the mailman when I came back. He was in the lobby, so he handed me my mail. He's really nice so I'm sure he's innocent."
"We'll be the judge of that, Ms. Duffy."
"Okay. I think that was about it. I remember I had a lot of work that day so I didn't see very many people. Oh wait, there was the Federal Express guy. He must have been new on my route because I've never seen him before." The Sgt asked me to describe the man and both were writing furiously. "I'm sure Annie came in at least once that day. She's always here."
"Annie?" the Lt. asked.
"Annie Spadaro, my neighbor across the hall. She's a dancer in Cats. You know, the musical?" I had to ask, since you never knew. Both men nodded.
"Does she live alone?"
This question brought out a snicker from Richard's direction.
"Yes, she does. Although she has friends that visit." No one can ever accuse me of not being diplomatic.
"Okay, I'm sure we'll want to talk to her also. Is there anything else you can remember? Even the slightest detail might be helpful. Sometimes something you think is unimportant might not be. You have to tell us everything."
I sat and pondered this for a moment. Not much ever happens in my life and Tuesday was no exception. Just the idea of sitting here and working all day and living my life while some other woman like me was being murdered was so unsettling.
"No, I don't think so."
"How about your wet pants?" Richard's question caused me to blush. Both officers looked from him to me for an explanation. I guess I should have remembered the occurrence because my bottom was still bruised.
"It was nothing, really. The mailman had given me my mail and I was looking through the pile as I was walking to the elevator and I slipped on the wet floor, falling on my-" I stopped, searching for a less embarrassing description than 'my ass.' "-my derriere. That's all. I wasn't watching where I was going and I slipped on the newly mopped floor. Surely that can't be important." I knew I was still blushing. Although the fact that Richard remembered my wet and muddy rear end three days later caused my heartstrings to hum.
"I heard there was a murder in the building. What happened?" I had to know although part of me didn't want to know. You probably understand.
Sgt. Watson pulled a photo out of his breast pocket and handed it to me. It was of a woman about my age with shoulder length blonde hair and beautiful features. It was hard to imagine that she still lived alone. If she hadn't found anyone, what hope was there for me? I didn't want to dwell on it.
"Do you know this woman?" he asked me.
"No."
"How about him?" He gestured over to Richard who came over to study the picture.
The change on Richard's face was amazing. His earlier nonchalance was replaced by confusion and a questioning look. And, dare I say it, a look of guilt?
"Well, sir? Do you know this woman?"
"I…I…uh." Poor Richard. He looked so uncomfortable. I wanted to help him out but this was shocking to me. How in the world would he know this woman? I felt a burning sensation of jealousy in my gut. Now both officers were sitting up at attention. Richard licked his dry lips.
"She wanted me to paint her portrait. That's all." He laughed weakly.
"So you were what, sharing a ride in the elevator and she just asked you to paint her picture, huh? Out of the blue?" The Lt. watched Richard alertly. Surely they wouldn't suspect him?
"Portrait, not picture." Leave it to Richard to correct someone's grammar. "And yes, that's about it. She asked what I did for a living and I told her I was an artist. She asked if I did portraits." He said defiantly, then sighed and ran his hand through his blond hair, ruffling it.
I started to say something, but the Lt. held up his hand for silence. "And when was this?"
"Tuesday morning." It was so quiet I could actually hear my watch ticking. They asked him more questions. How did she look, how was she dressed, was she happy, sad…and on and on. I had to jump in.
"I am sure Richard had nothing to do with this. He's worked here for almost two years and I can vouch for him. We're really good friends and I know he wouldn't hurt a fly."
"Ms. Duffy, we have to ask these questions. WE haven't worked with him for two years." The Lt. swung back to Richard. "So that was the last time you saw her?"
Richard nodded. Still, I wouldn't shut up.
"Richard couldn't kill anyone. I trust him completely. I would trust him with my life." I could feel the flow of adrenaline through my body. Couldn't they tell his innocence just by looking at him?
"Caroline, Caroline…" Richard was trying to get my attention but I was determined to straighten them out. I wasn't going to let them railroad my Richard.
"He couldn't kill anything. He can't even kill the cockroaches in his apartment, that's how innocent he is. And you can't blame him for killing those animals when he was young because those were just accid-" Okay, maybe that was a little too much information. Richard's bowed head pretty much confirmed that.
Both detectives shut their notebooks. "We'll be in touch. We've got more interviews to make. Stay in town." This last sentence was aimed at Richard. They rose to leave.
"But how...how…did she die?" Like I said, I had to know. It's like a car accident at the side of the road. You don't want to see the gore, but your eyes are drawn to it just the same.
"Well, I can tell you she was strangled to death but I can't tell you anymore than that. All else is confidential police information only in case we find a suspect." I just nodded, speechless. Strangled to death, in my building, my supposedly safe building. I couldn't help but glance over at the closet doorknob under my stairs. And now, thanks to me, they probably suspected Richard.
"How long had she lived in this building?" I figured maybe a couple of weeks since I had never seen her coming or going.
"Almost a year." The Sgt. had consulted his notes.
Both men looked at each other and rose. The Lt. handed me a card. "If there's anything, anything at all that you remember later, please give me a call. That number will page me wherever I am."
I nodded and followed them to the door. "Ma'am, I would suggest that you keep your door locked." I didn't want to argue with him about locking my door. With the amount of visitors I have, it would be a waste of time. I really wanted to straighten out the mess I made about Richard but I had a feeling he would strangle me himself and right in front of the officers.
To be continued…
Chapter Two
I was still sitting on my couch and Richard was sitting across from me in an armchair when there was a knock on the door. Richard glanced over at me, then walked over and opened the door. Two of New York's finest were standing in the doorway. The older of the two appeared to be in charge. With his salt and pepper gray hair, he was a considerably handsome older man. I fleetingly wondered where Annie was.
"Hello, I'm Lieutenant Phillips and this is Sergeant Watson. We're from the NYPD and were visiting all the tenants in the building. May we come in?"
Richard opened the door wider in response. I escorted them to the couch and sat in the armchair across from them. I noticed Richard sat back down on his own chair at the desk and appeared to be engrossed in his work. I hoped they didn't smell alcohol on my breath.
"Now, you are…" Lt. Phillips had pulled out a small notebook and had a pen poised over a blank page. Sgt. Watson was doing the same. I don't know why I felt nervous, as if I was being grilled. I hadn't done anything wrong.
"Caroline Duffy." I spelled the name out for them. "Is this because of the murder?"
The lieutenant held up his hand to stop me. "Ma'am, we just need some information about the occupants of this apartment right now. Are you the main tenant or are you subletting?"
I confirmed the former. His next question irked me I have to admit. Maybe I'm just too sensitive. "Now, Ms. Duffy, do you live alone or is there a Mr. Duffy?"
I mentally sighed. "I live alone, well, except for my cat." I glanced over at Salty, my white Persian. The officers' eyes followed mine. Salty was sound asleep in her basket, oblivious of everything.
"Well, how about him? Does he live with you?" the Lt. was pointing in Richard's direction. I turned around and looked at Richard who looked up at me at that moment. Turning back to the officers, I admitted that he didn't live there.
"It just seems like it sometimes," came Richard's voice from the desk.
"So, you two are involved? Like an item or something?" Both officers looked at me, pens at the ready. Of course, we weren't involved. Richard just worked for me. I have denied this so many times to curious parties. At first, I had found it laughable to think of being involved with the man. But lately, my denials were weaker, more indecisive. As we had grown closer and I started to understand Richard more and more, I had become more attached to him and, dare I admit it, but also attracted to him. I found myself thinking about him when he wasn't there. It was when the nighttime dreams of being in bed with him started that I sat up and took notice. Unfortunately, I was sure he thought of me as only his boss and a sometimes- irritant person in his life.
"No, we're not involved. I am Caroline's employee. That's all." Richard had jumped into the breach of the conversation. I didn't even have to answer.
"And your name is…" The men scribbled his answer in their notebooks. "But, you come and go during the day time hours, right?"
Richard regarded the men for a few seconds then sighed audibly. "You don't understand. I come in at nine o'clock; I'm chained to this desk and then at five o'clock, Caroline unchains me and I go home. That's all." Both men looked at him then down at their notebooks once again.
The Sgt. spoke up for the first time in our conversation, asking me what I did for a living to be able to work at home. I explained my cartoon strip, holding up a sample. Neither officer appeared to be familiar with it. I was crushed.
The Lt. looked at me once again. "Now, Ms. Duffy, do you recall what you did on Tuesday? Did you notice anyone different in the building, someone who didn't belong?"
I had to laugh at that. There were all types of people in this building, people I noticed all day long coming in and out. I sat puzzling over my answer.
"Tell you what. Why don't you just tell me about your day, starting with when you got up in the morning. Give me all the details, don't leave anything out."
"Don't worry, she won't." I heard Richard mutter behind me. I turned around and gave him a dirty look. He just stared myopically at me.
"Well, let's see." I sat for a moment, trying to remember three days ago. "I got up, made coffee, ate a bagel and cleaned out Salty's litter box. At nine o'clock or thereabouts--" I made a point of turning around and looking at Richard, "Richard comes in to work. Now, I remember. That was the day I had to finish the gift mugs for Mother's Day and Father's Day. I also had to design a set of gift stationary." I got up and grabbed my sample to show the officers. Richard yawned loudly in his chair. I ignored him.
"And what exactly does Mr. Karinsky do again?"
"He colors in my sketches. See?" I held up the new strip board from that day's work. "He even colors inside the lines." I was grinning. That last part was payback for the yawn.
"Okay, go on."
"I did go out to pick up lunch at the deli down the street, you know, the Greek Deli on the corner? Have you ever eaten there?"
The Sgt. spoke up. "Oh, I love that place. Have you tried their-" His eyes met the disapproving ones of his supervisor and he stopped short.
"Then what, Ms. Duffy?" The Lt. was all business.
"Well…I met the mailman when I came back. He was in the lobby, so he handed me my mail. He's really nice so I'm sure he's innocent."
"We'll be the judge of that, Ms. Duffy."
"Okay. I think that was about it. I remember I had a lot of work that day so I didn't see very many people. Oh wait, there was the Federal Express guy. He must have been new on my route because I've never seen him before." The Sgt asked me to describe the man and both were writing furiously. "I'm sure Annie came in at least once that day. She's always here."
"Annie?" the Lt. asked.
"Annie Spadaro, my neighbor across the hall. She's a dancer in Cats. You know, the musical?" I had to ask, since you never knew. Both men nodded.
"Does she live alone?"
This question brought out a snicker from Richard's direction.
"Yes, she does. Although she has friends that visit." No one can ever accuse me of not being diplomatic.
"Okay, I'm sure we'll want to talk to her also. Is there anything else you can remember? Even the slightest detail might be helpful. Sometimes something you think is unimportant might not be. You have to tell us everything."
I sat and pondered this for a moment. Not much ever happens in my life and Tuesday was no exception. Just the idea of sitting here and working all day and living my life while some other woman like me was being murdered was so unsettling.
"No, I don't think so."
"How about your wet pants?" Richard's question caused me to blush. Both officers looked from him to me for an explanation. I guess I should have remembered the occurrence because my bottom was still bruised.
"It was nothing, really. The mailman had given me my mail and I was looking through the pile as I was walking to the elevator and I slipped on the wet floor, falling on my-" I stopped, searching for a less embarrassing description than 'my ass.' "-my derriere. That's all. I wasn't watching where I was going and I slipped on the newly mopped floor. Surely that can't be important." I knew I was still blushing. Although the fact that Richard remembered my wet and muddy rear end three days later caused my heartstrings to hum.
"I heard there was a murder in the building. What happened?" I had to know although part of me didn't want to know. You probably understand.
Sgt. Watson pulled a photo out of his breast pocket and handed it to me. It was of a woman about my age with shoulder length blonde hair and beautiful features. It was hard to imagine that she still lived alone. If she hadn't found anyone, what hope was there for me? I didn't want to dwell on it.
"Do you know this woman?" he asked me.
"No."
"How about him?" He gestured over to Richard who came over to study the picture.
The change on Richard's face was amazing. His earlier nonchalance was replaced by confusion and a questioning look. And, dare I say it, a look of guilt?
"Well, sir? Do you know this woman?"
"I…I…uh." Poor Richard. He looked so uncomfortable. I wanted to help him out but this was shocking to me. How in the world would he know this woman? I felt a burning sensation of jealousy in my gut. Now both officers were sitting up at attention. Richard licked his dry lips.
"She wanted me to paint her portrait. That's all." He laughed weakly.
"So you were what, sharing a ride in the elevator and she just asked you to paint her picture, huh? Out of the blue?" The Lt. watched Richard alertly. Surely they wouldn't suspect him?
"Portrait, not picture." Leave it to Richard to correct someone's grammar. "And yes, that's about it. She asked what I did for a living and I told her I was an artist. She asked if I did portraits." He said defiantly, then sighed and ran his hand through his blond hair, ruffling it.
I started to say something, but the Lt. held up his hand for silence. "And when was this?"
"Tuesday morning." It was so quiet I could actually hear my watch ticking. They asked him more questions. How did she look, how was she dressed, was she happy, sad…and on and on. I had to jump in.
"I am sure Richard had nothing to do with this. He's worked here for almost two years and I can vouch for him. We're really good friends and I know he wouldn't hurt a fly."
"Ms. Duffy, we have to ask these questions. WE haven't worked with him for two years." The Lt. swung back to Richard. "So that was the last time you saw her?"
Richard nodded. Still, I wouldn't shut up.
"Richard couldn't kill anyone. I trust him completely. I would trust him with my life." I could feel the flow of adrenaline through my body. Couldn't they tell his innocence just by looking at him?
"Caroline, Caroline…" Richard was trying to get my attention but I was determined to straighten them out. I wasn't going to let them railroad my Richard.
"He couldn't kill anything. He can't even kill the cockroaches in his apartment, that's how innocent he is. And you can't blame him for killing those animals when he was young because those were just accid-" Okay, maybe that was a little too much information. Richard's bowed head pretty much confirmed that.
Both detectives shut their notebooks. "We'll be in touch. We've got more interviews to make. Stay in town." This last sentence was aimed at Richard. They rose to leave.
"But how...how…did she die?" Like I said, I had to know. It's like a car accident at the side of the road. You don't want to see the gore, but your eyes are drawn to it just the same.
"Well, I can tell you she was strangled to death but I can't tell you anymore than that. All else is confidential police information only in case we find a suspect." I just nodded, speechless. Strangled to death, in my building, my supposedly safe building. I couldn't help but glance over at the closet doorknob under my stairs. And now, thanks to me, they probably suspected Richard.
"How long had she lived in this building?" I figured maybe a couple of weeks since I had never seen her coming or going.
"Almost a year." The Sgt. had consulted his notes.
Both men looked at each other and rose. The Lt. handed me a card. "If there's anything, anything at all that you remember later, please give me a call. That number will page me wherever I am."
I nodded and followed them to the door. "Ma'am, I would suggest that you keep your door locked." I didn't want to argue with him about locking my door. With the amount of visitors I have, it would be a waste of time. I really wanted to straighten out the mess I made about Richard but I had a feeling he would strangle me himself and right in front of the officers.
To be continued…
