Hate Crimes
Chapter Two
The 15th Precinct building was old; sweat and mold seemed to ooze from the walls and radiate an aura of despair around everything inside. There was no functional elevator so Jim and Marty trudged up the stairs to the squad room.
"God, I hate these old precinct houses. Ya just gotta pray for urban renewal to catch up here."
Jim just nodded. The old building seemed clammy and the corridors were all too narrow to comfortably navigate. He ended up with Hank on his leash and his hand on Marty's arm following single file to keep from bumping into anything or anybody.
"Detective Dunbar," Jim heard a familiar voice to his left.
"John? John Irvin, is that you?"
"Yes, it's been ages. When I was at 1PP and you were just out of uniform."
"Sorry to end the reunion, lovebirds," Russo cut in, "we're here at the request of Sergeant Sipowicz."
"This way," John's voice went cold as he lead the pair to Sipowicz's office.
"Detectives Russo and Dunbar," Andy came out of his office to greet them. "Fisk has a lot to say about you."
"All good, no doubt," Marty cut in.
"Yeah, he said you were a loud mouth, Russo. And you, Dunbar, you ain't taking any risks on my dime."
"No more than any other day, Sergeant." Jim shot back.
"Russo, go compare notes with Jones and Clark. I want a minute with your pal here."
Sipowicz tapped Jim's hand, indicating he wanted to guide him into his office. "You and me, we gotta talk."
"Anything you say, Sergeant," Jim said as he went into the office, sat and settled Hank at his feet.
"Dunbar," Andy cleared his throat, "everybody knows you got a pair of the biggest brass ones of anybody in the department. You also got a rep for being one smart cop. So, let's stick to playing detective while you're here."
"Was there any other thing on your mind? Cause I thought that was what Russo and I were here for?"
"Just laying it on the line, Dunbar. We've already lost 12 hours on this homicide and your case is the closest thing we got to a lead." Andy shifted round his desk, "I had these made up for you last night."
Jim felt a file folder drop into his hands. Opening it up, he found heavy paper covered with Braille. "I could have scanned this into my computer."
"What's done is done, get to work."
Jim rose and slapped his thigh, signaling Hank to get ready to guide him.
"Out the door, go forward 'bout five feet then turn three o'clock and you'll find your partner."
"You know someone blind, Sergeant."
"I don't live in a vacuum, Detective."
Notebooks, crime scene sketches and official reports from both murders were strewn across John Clark's desk. So far, the only things they had in common been someone were blind in one and might have been blind in the other.
John Clark was scribbling information down while he balanced the phone receiver on his shoulder.
"We've got an ID on our vic." He said as he hung up the phone. "According to the serial number on the glass eyes we have a George Stravros occupying space in the morgue. He was 19 and a student at City College. There's a counselor, Willa Pederson, willing to talk to us right now."
"How 'bout me and Dunbar head to the college while you find the family," Marty said.
"Like I like telling someone their kid's dead," John snarked.
"When we get ids on our vics we got to do it twice. You can do it, Junior."
"Marty," Jim shook his head, "you trying to be extra obnoxious today, or are we just lucky?"
"Just lucky, I guess. Get your coat, Dunbar, we gotta go."
Jim and Marty had barely got out the door when Russo sighed. "I have never been so glad to get outta somewhere as to get outta there."
"What's wrong with the 15th, Frank," Jim asked as he settled Hank in the car.
Russo hesitated. "That Sipowicz, he kept staring at us, like he expected fireworks or something. What did he say to you when he grilled ya in his office?"
"Not much. Just told me to do my job."
"Idiot," Russo growled as he eased the car into traffic, "like you were gonna do anything else."
"Gentlemen," Ms. Pederson escorted the detectives into her office, "please, have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee?"
"No, we're fine." Marty said as he took out his notebook. "We just need a few answers and we'll be out of your hair."
"Yes," Jim started, "did you know George Starvos personally?"
"Yes, I did. I handle all the special needs students in the pre-law program."
"So, are there a lot of special needs students this year?"
"No, there were only a few. We encourage these young people to make full use of the facilities we have here to make college life easier for them. I try to take a personal interest in each and every one of their aspirations while they attend City College."
"You only handle pre-law, Miss Pederson?" Marty asked.
"Pre-law, education and liberal arts. More and more disabled people are taking full advantage of the opportunities a higher education can give them. You yourself, Detective Dunbar, show that a disability does not necessarily mean life is over."
"Thank you, Miss Pederson," Jim answered, even though he wanted scream that he did not want to be anyone's role model.
"Yeah, we're all proud of Dunbar here," Marty chimed in. "Still, all your students don't make it. We're there any drop outs around the end of October."
"Actually, we did have a very promising young man leave after almost finishing pre-law without any explanation the end of October, Carl Willets. I was very disappointed, but young people get involved and he had become very close to Jeffrey Osborne. Mr. Osborne was in our social work program."
"Could we have their contact numbers," Marty continued. "So we can see if they might have known something about Stavros."
"I don't know if that would help. Both Osborne and Willets were in their practically finished their degrees and Stavros was a first year student. Just because George and Carl were blind does not mean they ran in the same circles."
"And Jeffrey Osborne was not handicapped. Yet he was with Carl Willets."
"Detective Russo, Carl and Jeffrey were partners."
Back at the 15th the detectives went over their notes.
"So, two blind guys in pre-law," Clark checked his notes. "We could have a pattern."
"Or we could just have a co-incidence," Jim added.
"Still, it is a place to start, unless your guy was gay, too." Marty added.
"Listen, yous," Sipowicz approached the men, "don't make this any more difficult than it has to be. Russo, Dunbar; you report here tomorrow, for now, get outta here."
John Irvin approached the group, "I'm heading to the subway. Care to join me, Jim?"
"Sure, Hank needs to stretch his legs. That okay with you, Marty?"
"Sure, whatever you want. See you here tomorrow." Russo said and left immediately.
"Do you think it was anything we said?" Baldwin Jones laughed. "You can barely see him for the dust."
"Neanderthal," Irvin shook his head. "Ready to go?"
John Irvin's straightforward directions made it simpler for Jim to memorize the route to the subway. It wasn't until they reached the station that John revealed that Andy Sipowicz had told him to do this and he didn't even know John and Jim had met before. The rest of the ride home Jim Dunbar tried to reconcile the public face of this gruff police sergeant with the obvious trouble Sipowicz was going through to make things easier for him. Jim wasn't sure he liked it, this special treatment, but it did make things go smoothly.