Rewind

4/7/1995

 

(The following is a short story written by Gerry Cagle soon to be published by Brandon Publishing. It will be printed in three installments.)

 

“It’s nine-twenty-two, that’s twenty-two minutes after nine o’clock if you’re left handed, Saturday night in the world’s most beautiful city. It’s a night for love and your Love Monster, Fast Eddie is here with music to move into it on Kay-A-Kay-A, San Francisco’s Double K-FM.”

 

The radio was on loud, as if the volume of sound could brighten up the apartment. It wasn’t that the place needed it. An ornate, crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, its lights twinkling against the walls, joining with the softer flow of two lamps on each side of a large, white sofa located in the center of the room. The immaculate hardwood floor glistened with the reflections, softened only by a thick, beige rug that extended underneath a glass coffee table. Two smaller chairs sat on either corner where the rug ended.

 

Built into the wall directly opposite the couch was a sophisticated entertainment system housing a large-screen TV, two VCRs, tape and cassette decks and a CD player. A computer panel in the center controlled the system, feeding several speakers throughout the apartment.

 

The room was brightly lit, yet it seemed dark and cold, more like a showplace than a real living room. Wood was stacked neatly in the clean fireplace where no ashes were visible from a previous fire. Books in the large bookcase were all positioned by height and size, giving the appearance that they weren’t read often. Hundreds of CDs were filed in neat rows below the system. Even the pictures on the walls were perfectly straight, not one tilting the slightest bit away from the horizontal.

 

Everything was in its proper place. Almost.

 

A man came out of the bedroom and moved across the hardwood floors, straightening his jacket as he walked. He left through the front door.

 

The radio continued blasting, but the woman in the bedroom wasn’t listening. Under normal circumstances, she would be described as beautiful. She had a model’s figure with wide shoulders, a tiny waist and shapely hips that curved down to join her exceptionally long legs. She was lying on her back, he long, blonde hair cascading across the bed. A sheet was pulled haphazardly across her upper body.

 

The radio continued to blare. “It’s Fast Eddie playing your favorites on San Francisco’s favorite station, Double K-FM! Here’s one for my friends having fun in the city!”

 

The woman didn’t hear. She was dead.

 

* * * * * *

Lieutenant Tim Johnson was sitting at his favorite table on the sidewalk outside of Enricho’s, one of the city’s finest Italian restaurants, making casual conversation with the waiter when he got the call. He wasn’t just any cop. He was the city’s most celebrated homicide detective. San Francisco love heroes and the newspapers canonized Tim Johnson several years before when he cracked a murder-for-hire ring in Chinatown. Since then, the mere fact that he was assigned to a case was a cause for headlines. Some said the “Dirty Harry” movies were patterned after his professional life. Whether or not that was true, it was a fact that next to Dirty Harry, Tim Johnson was San Francisco’s most famous detective.

 

He headed the Police Department’s most elite homicide unit. It wasn’t named, but the unit was assigned to cases that involved high profile victims or perpetrators and would invariably generate media heat.

 

He didn’t look like a hero. He was stocky, just under six feet tall, and weighed just over 200 pounds. His face was square with heavy jowls that were dominated by a large nose. His eyebrows were thick, dark caterpillars, constantly moving with his thoughts and feelings. It wasn’t a handsome face, but an expressive one. He had a great smile and a terrific scowl, which he was wearing now.

 

He took a long sip from his drink, gazed out into the mist of the city and opened his cell phone. “What?”

 

It was less a question than a statement.

 

“It’s Keith, Lieutenant. We’ve got a woman dead in her apartment in the Financial District. We were lucky. It couldn’t have happened more than 30 minutes before we got here.”

 

“Really? Did one of us do it?”

 

“No sir.”

 

Johnson frowned, not pleased that Keith didn’t acknowledge his obvious joke. Then again, Keith was the serious type. “You guys can’t handle it?”

 

“It’s going to be a media feast. Captain said to get you on it right away.”

 

“I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

 

* * * * * *

 

The girl sitting in the darkness jumped off the couch when the door opened quietly.

 

“What took you so long? You’ve been gone almost 30 minutes.” The words tumbled quickly out of her mouth. “Where were you? I’ve been worried.”

 

The man smiled and closed the door behind him. “There’s nothing to worry about. I had to dodge a couple of people, but I’m here now and that’s all that matters.”

 

He walked across the room and tried to kiss her, but she turned away. “Why did you leave?”

 

“To get your surprise.” He reached into his jacket, took out a small box and handed it to her. “Happy Anniversary.”

 

Her expression changed immediately. She sat back on the couch and opened the box. Inside was a small diamond attached to a gold chain.

 

Her expression changed immediately. She sat back on the couch and opened the box. Inside was a small diamond attached to a gold chain.

 

“I can’t believe it,” she stuttered.

 

“You deserve it, baby,” he said confidently as he eased down beside her. “We both deserve it.”

 

He took the necklace and put it around her neck, then pulled her towards him. This time she didn’t resist. She kissed him.

 

“I bought it two weeks ago and kept it hidden in the car. When I went out to get it, I had to dodge the old man.” He laughed. “He leaned against my car and took a smoke.”

 

She threw both arms around his neck and shoved him down on the cushions, throwing one leg across him so she could sit on his chest. “I didn’t buy you anything,” she grinned wickedly, “but I’ve got a present for you.”

 

“No, baby,” he protested, pointing to his watch.

 

She wasn’t convinced. She kissed him deeply and time didn’t matter any more.

 

“It’s nine-fifty in the night time…Saturday night…date night in the city. It’s time to be with the one you love or love the one you’re with. Fast Eddie’s putting on the mood music with another love song. Mariah Carey’s on Double-K-FM.”

 

* * * * * *

 

The two men went up the steps to the apartment building tow-at-a-time, walked through the lobby and into a waiting elevator, the doors held open by a uniformed policeman.

 

“Talk to me, Keith.”

 

The younger man checked a small notepad. “We got a call from one of the other tenants about 9:30. She heard some banging and screaming next door. The first unit got here at 9:45; we were cruising the area and responded a couple of minutes after. All of us went up together, knocked and when there was no answer, went inside. The door wasn’t locked.

 

“We couldn’t have gotten here much after the killer left. The body was still warm. We sealed off the building and are searching and interviewing everyone. So far, nothing.”

 

The elevator stopped and the doors hissed apart. Two more police officers were standing in front of a door across from the elevator.

 

Keith steered the Lieutenant into the apartment, through the living area to the bedroom. Johnson gave the place a quick one-over. Three members of the forensics team were busy testing the room for trace evidence. He noticed a broken glass in one corner, the busted bathroom door and the shattered mirror. His eyes moved back toward the bed where he saw a lamp lying on the floor, evidently knocked off the bedside table.

 

The woman was sprawled across the bed. Even from his distance, Johnson could see her bloody mouth and bruises on her face and neck. A stain of blood beneath her head was soaking into the white spread. Her eyes were wide open, staring at the ceiling, seeing nothing.

 

“Is the room just like you found it?” he shouted over the blaring radio.

 

“Yes sir.”

 

“Keep out of the way of the forensics team and let them do their job. Have them check the entire place. I want fingerprints, time of death and anything else they come up with on my desk by eight in the morning.”

 

“Yes sir.”

 

“And turn off that damned radio.”

 

“This is Fast Eddie and that was one of the most requested songs of the night…”

 

Someone shut off the radio, stopping the voice in mid-sentence.

 

“I’m assuming,” Johnson growled, “that there is a reason other than your love of music that the radio was blaring.”

 

“We first thought the killer turned the radio up loud to cover the noise. But after checking, we found the deceased always played the radio loud. Several of the neighbors have complained before to the manager. She always listened to the same station every night at the same time. We checked a little further and found out why. Her husband is the deejay on KAKA. His name is Fast Eddie.”

 

Johnson’s eyebrows went up in recognition. “Keith, you and I are going to go over to KAKA and make a few requests.”

 

* * * * * *

 

“Take a left here, Lieutenant. The radio station is down the block on the right.”

 

They were in the car, driving through down-town San Francisco in bumper-to-bumper traffic. Although the siren was screaming and the light on top was flashing, the cars in front weren’t moving. Detective Keith watched out of the corner of his eye as Johnson grew more impatient. He smiled in the darkness. Anytime now, the Lieutenant would explode. Patience was not one of his virtues.

 

“Look at this crap!” Johnson yelled.

 

Keith turned his head and grinned. The traffic was snarled. All four lanes were standing still.

 

Johnson jammed on the horn with no effect.

 

“The hell with it!”

 

He whipped the sedan over the curb and drove up the sidewalk, shouting at pedestrians and drivers as he went. He pulled into a driveway and slammed on the bakes. A gate prevented the car from moving any further. On the other side of the gate was a small guard house. Again, he leaned on the horn.

 

The door to the guard house opened and a uniformed security officer rushed out. “Get off that horn before I call the police,” he yelled.

 

Johnson got out of the car and flashed his badge. “Well, never let it be said that San Francisco’s finest don’t act quickly. Get this gate opened right away.”

 

“Yes sir!” The guard moved hurriedly, pulling out his keys and fiddling with the lock. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t know who you were. We get all kinds up here at night.” He swung the gate open.

 

Keith slid across the seat and under the wheel. He nosed the car through the gate and into an empty space as Johnson began grilling the guard.

 

“What’s your name?”

 

“Kelly, sir. I was on the force myself in Sacramento for 30 years.”

 

“It’s nice to know we’re working with a professional,” Johnson said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “We’re investigating a murder and I need to see Mr. Fast Eddie right now.”

 

The guard looked down and rubbed his chin. “Well, sir, that will be impossible.”

 

Johnson folded his thick arms across his chest and rocked back on his heels. “Explain to me, Mr. Kelly, what makes my request impossible?”

 

The guard was nervous now, wiping his wet palms against his pants. He was an old man, just doing light security work to fight the boredom and he didn’t need any problems with the police, but he didn’t need to blow his job with the radio station, either. “Fast Eddie is on the air right now and I can’t let anyone in there when he’s doing his show. He’s real…”

 

“Kelly,” Johnson leaned forward and got in the guard’s face, “evidently I didn’t make myself clear. We’re investigating a homicide…a murder, Mr. Kelly. This isn’t a normal visit and I’m not a normal visitor. I want to see Fast Eddie right now, this second. Do you understand?”

 

Keith, who had gotten out of the car and was now standing next to the Lieutenant, fought off a grin. His boss was hot.

 

The guard moved back a step, then straightened his shoulders. “I understand the importance of it all, sir, but I’m following orders. I don’t let anyone into the building who isn’t on the list and unless you’ve got a warrant, I can’t let you in without first clearing it with my boss.”

 

Johnson continued to glare for a moment, but it was clear the security guard wasn’t going to be intimidated. Secretly impressed with the old man’s backbone, he spun around and walked toward the car. “Then by all means,” he called over his shoulder, check with your boss. But do it quickly.”

 

Johnson opened the door and slid under the wheel, reaching over the visor for a pack of cigarettes as he slouched down in the seat. He shook out a Marlboro, lit it and took a deep drag before blowing it out into the mist. He had only taken a couple of puffs when the guard approached.

 

“I just talked to the manager of the station. He told me to take you inside and have you wait for him. He’ll be here in less than five minutes.”

 

* * * * * *

 

Fast Eddie was behind the console in the control room. A microphone hung about 10 inches in front of his face. To his right were three large computers and two telephones, each with a set of 10 lines, all of which were blinking rapidly.

 

The deejay was a bundle of nervous energy. He shifted back and forth in the swivel chair, snapped his fingers, shuffled his feet, then leaned forward and flicked a switch on the console.

 

“Dennis, let’s do the 27 set, back-announce and I’ll do the live going in followed by the Coke commercial, jingle three coming out and into Brown 45. Hit is hot, drop it down and I’ll do a request rap over the intro to the vocal.”

 

The man he was talking to sat in an adjacent room, visible through a large, glass window directly in front of him. The engineer nodded and began making the preparations.

 

Fast Eddie leaned back in his chair, hit a different switch and asked, “How do you feel?”

 

Through another window on his right, the young operator who was answering the request lines put down the phone and reached for her intercom button. A big smile lit up her beautiful face. “I’ve never felt better in my life.”

 

Eddie smiled back. “Suzie, I don’t know when I have a better show: the two hours before, when I’m looking forward to it, or the two hours after, when I’m so happy.”

 

“I don’t know either,” she said, “but if you’re ratings keep going up, I’m going to demand a percentage.”

 

He laughed. “That’s fine with me, but you’re going to have to call your dad and tell him why.”

 

She blew him a kiss and picked up the phone. Eddie leaned forward, put on his head set and got ready to rock.

 

* * * * * *

 

Lt. Johnson and Detective Keith followed the guard down a corridor inside the station. Johnson noticed several doors, all closed and seemingly locked. The guard stopped in front of a heavy, soundproofed door with a red light over it.

 

“What’s this?” Johnson asked.

 

“The control room,” the guard answered.

 

“Is Fast Eddie in there?”

 

The guard nodded.

 

Johnson pushed on the door, but it was locked. “Open it.”

 

The guard swallowed. “We should wait for…”

 

“Open the God-damned door.”

 

With the statement, the red light illuminated from above the door. “I can’t. The door locks automatically when the light is on. That’s when Fast Eddie opens his mike. I can’t open the door until that light goes off.”

 

Speakers in the ceiling carried the sound of the radio station down to the men below. “Kay Ay Kay Ay, San Francisco’s Double K-FM and Fast Eddie at eleven-twenty-seven, just a few short minutes away from the bewitching hour when you will be witched by Scott Shannon. It’s a wonderful night in the city…the little bit of rain we got earlier brought the temperature down to a pleasant 62 and we sure needed it to cool off. It was burning until then. Or was it just me? Ha. Speaking of burning, when you’re on the beach tomorrow, you don’t want to burn so take along some…”

 

Johnson looked at Keith and shook his head. “How these guys talk so fast and still make sense is beyond me.”

 

“Yeah,” Keith agreed, “but it’s debatable as to whether or not they make sense.”

 

The red light went off and the guard tried the door, but it still wouldn’t open. “Sorry,” he shrugged. “They have it locked from the inside. I’ll have to ring.”

 

He pushed a button on the side of the door. They waited a few moments and nothing happened. Johnson reached around the guard abruptly, put his finger on the button and held it.

 

“Yes?” a female voice came from a small speaker just above the button.

 

“It’s Kelly, Miss Case.”

 

“Just a second. I’ll be right there.”

 

Johnson frowned. “Who was that?”

 

“That’s Suzie Case. She’s the request line operator until midnight. She’s also the boss’s daughter.”

 

The door opened slightly and Suzie Case stuck her head out. Johnson looked at Keith and raised his eyebrows, silently acknowledging her beauty between them.

 

“Miss Case, these two men are detectives. They want to talk to Fast Eddie.”

 

The girl made no move to open the door further. She looked only at the guard. “You know Eddie won’t talk to anyone while he’s on the air.”

 

Johnson smiled condescendingly. “I understand totally, Miss, and under normal circumstances I wouldn’t press it, but these aren’t normal circumstances.”

 

He reached forward quickly, pushed the door open and flashed the badge in front of her face. I’m Lt. Johnson and this good-looking thing next to me is Detective Keith and we need to see Mr. Fast Eddie and we need to see him right now.”

 

He brushed past her through the door. Keith and the guard followed. There were three other doors at the end of the short hallway.

 

“Which one of these do I go through?”

 

Before anyone could answer, another man came rushing through the door from the outer corridor. “All right, what’s going on here?”

 

The guard came to attention. “Mr. Case, these are the police officers I told you about. They want to see Eddie.”

 

Johnson nodded gruffly. It was crowded in the small hallway, making extra movement difficult.

 

“Gentlemen, that is impossible.”

 

The Lieutenant took a deep breath and tried to control his anger. “Mr. Case is it?” he asked with a cold, even voice? He didn’t want for an answer. “Everyone seems to be stuck on the same channel here tonight and it’s not Double K-FM. I am sick and tired of being told that Fast Eddie can’t talk because he’s on the air. I don’t care whether he’s on land or sea. I want to talk with him right now. Are you going to cooperate or am I going to have to take all of you downtown for obstructing justice?”

 

“Lieutenant, can I have a word?”

 

Dwight Case was as tall as Johnson, but much slimmer. He was dressed casually, but expensively, in pressed brown trousers, a starched white shirt and dark Gucci loafers with no socks. His perfectly coiffed hair was black with no hint of gray.

 

He grabbed Johnson by the elbow and maneuvered him down the corridor and away from the others. “Lieutenant, I do understand,” his voice low so only the two of them could hear what he was saying. “The last thing I want to do is cause trouble. However, you know as well as I that we’re not obstructing justice. You don’t have a search warrant and Eddie will only be on the air another 15 minutes. Then you can speak to him at length. Besides, if you went inside now, he wouldn’t be able to talk with you. He’s only got three or four minutes between records and that’s taken up by preparing for his next commercial break. You’ll spend 15 minutes getting 30 seconds of conversation while at the same time destroying his show for the thousands of people listening. If you’ll wait with me in my office, I assure you he’ll see you the instant he gets off the air.”

 

Johnson stared at the man for a long moment, weighing his options. He could play it either way. Fighting the impulse to push his way through the doors, he forced himself to relax.

 

“Mr. Case, we can argue all night about obstructing justice. However, we will be arguing downtown because that’s where I’m inclined to take all of you.” Johnson took pride in watching Case’s face tense up. “However, I will work out a compromise. I heard Mr. Fast Eddie talking about another deejay who will take his place at midnight. Let him go on a little early and get Fast Eddie into your office now. I can’t tell you how important this is. And I can’t tell you that I’m not going to wait another fifteen minutes to make this happen.”

 

Case looked a bit relieved at the latter part of the statement. He patted Johnson on the shoulder. “That’s certainly reasonable. If you’ll follow me to my office, I’ll make the arrangements and have Eddie meet us there.”

 

Keith was staring at Suzie Case with a stupid smile on his face. The girl hadn’t noticed him.

 

“Keith!”

 

The detective snapped out of his daydream. As they walked out, Johnson saw the girl smile.

 

Before they went through the door, Case turned. “Suzie, please go tell Scott to take over early. And early means right now. You go back to answering the phones. Don’t tell Eddie anything that happened, just tell him to come to my office. Oh, and tell him he’s not being fired. I just want to talk with him.”

 

Suzie nodded silently, followed the four men to the door and closed it behind them. Johnson heard the lock click from the inside.

 

“I had to tell her that,” Case chuckled. “You tell a deejay you want to see him 15 minutes before his shift is over and he believes he’s getting fired.”

 

The policemen followed the manager down the other end of the hallway and around the corner to his office. He stopped in front of a door, opened it with a key, entered and turned on the lights. The men walked through a reception area toward another door behind a desk. Case unlocked this door also and walked in.

 

The front office was large, with a huge desk at one end. In front of the desk were three chairs. At the other end of the room was an oversized, L-shaped couch with a large coffee table in front of it. Framed Gold records and pictures of recording artists decorated the walls.

 

Case pointed to the couch. “Please have a seat.”

 

While Keith sat down, Johnson pretended to be interested in the pictures. “Nice office.”

 

“Thank you,” Case said. The man frowned. He picked a glass off the coffee table, stared at it intently, sniffed the rim, then took it into the outer office and set it on his secretary’s desk. He returned and made a note.

 

“Seems like one of the cleaning people has been using my office to have a little nip.” Looking up at Lt. Johnson, he continued, “Now, what can I do for you?”

 

Johnson gave him a quick glance. “There’s nothing you can do for us. We’re waiting to see Fast Eddie, if he actually exists. I think it would have been easier to get to the President.”

 

Case chuckled softly. “I apologize for the inconvenience, but we get all kinds of people down here who want to see the disc jockeys and we’ve got special security procedures to prevent them.”

 

The man lowered his voice and smiled, trying to gain the Lieutenant’s confidence. “I know you came here to see Eddie, but as his employer and the manager of this station, I think I’m entitled to know what the police want with one of my people. I have the station’s reputation to protect.”

 

Johnson reached for a cigarette.

 

“There’s no smoking in here,” Case said quickly.

 

Johnson snapped open his lighter, lit the cigarette, then blew the smoke toward the ceiling, all the time staring at Case. “That’s where you’re dead wrong.” His voice was flat and unemotional. “You aren’t entitled to know anything. This isn’t a civil case. We’re not here because one of your deejays got a teeny-bopper pregnant. I’ve been explaining this all night and nobody’s been listening. We’re investigating a homicide and I want to ask the questions, not answer them. We can either do this here, in your office, or at the police station, but my questions are going to be answered. Do you get my drift?”

 

Case shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Well, any way I can help, just ask.”

 

Johnson took another drag off his cigarette. “What’s Fast Eddie’s real name?”

 

Case cleared his throat. “Edward Thomas James. He uses Fast Eddie on the air because it adds a little snap to his show.”

 

Johnson threw a quick look over his shoulder. Keith was busy make notes.

“What time does he work?”

 

“He’s on the air from seven until midnight, Monday through Saturday. He’s supposed to be in the station an hour before his shift begins to prepare for his show.”

 

“Do you know his wife?”

 

Cased knotted his brow. “Rhonda James? Yes, she seems like a nice lady. I don’t know her very well.”

 

Johnson looked around the room. “Do you have a phone I can use? I’ve got no cell service.”

 

Case pointed toward the reception area. “Out there. Just dial nine.”

 

Johnson walked into the outer office and picked up the phone. After punching a number, he absently picked up the glass Case had set on the desk earlier. It smelled faintly of tequila. On the side was an inscription, “Fast Eddie.”

 

His call connected, the Lieutenant got to the point. “Talk to me.”

 

“We’ve got all kinds of prints, Lieutenant, as you would expect,” said a detective on the other end. “They’re matching them now. Death occurred between nine and ten o’clock, probably cause was a blow to the back of the head. We found blood in the lavatory in the bathroom, like someone tried to wash it off. There was no sign of forcible entry. The neighbors saw nobody and besides the woman next door who called us, nobody heard anything. The doorman downstairs keeps a list of all visitors in the building and nobody signed in to see the deceased. There were only four visitors all night and we’re checking them out.”

 

“Good work. Anything else?”

 

“Yes, the lady had sexual intercourse either shortly before or after her death.”

 

“Was it rape?”

 

“Too early to tell.”

 

Johnson hung up the phone and walked back into Case’s office, still holding the glass. “What does this inscription mean?”

 

Case looked up. “Every deejay has a couple of drinking glasses kept in the lounge down the hall. They use their own so they don’t mistakenly drink from someone’s dirty glass.”

 

“Does Fast Eddie use your office?”

 

“No,” Case said. “I’m the only one with a key besides the cleaning people. One of them probably borrowed Eddie’s glass after cleaning the lounge and came in here for a drink. It happens occasionally.” He motioned to a wet bar over his shoulder. “As you can see, I keep liquor here for entertaining clients.”

 

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Suzie Case stuck her head in the door. “Sorry, Dad. Eddie will be here in a second. We had a problem locating Scott to take over early, but they’re doing the change-over now.”

 

“That’s fine,” Case said. “Hang around awhile, honey. It might be a while before we leave.” He got up and followed her out of the office. “I’ll bring him down here.”

 

Johnson turned toward Keith. The detective made a face and shrugged his shoulders. There wasn’t much to say. Case was gone for only a minute or two before he returned with Fast Eddie and made the introductions.

 

Johnson focused on the deejay. During the first part of a homicide investigation, first meetings with everyone who could possibly be involved were important. He saw nothing out of the ordinary, just an athletically trim, nice looking man in his late 20s, dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt. He had a face full of sharp features and a thick head of light brown hair. The handshake was firm and his palm was dry.

 

“It’s nice to meet you guys,” Eddie said. He was smiling and trying to be charming, as if he was meeting with a group of fans. “What can I do for you?”

 

Johnson turned toward Case. “Can we use your office for a few minutes…alone?”

 

“Now, Lieutenant, I think I should…”

 

“Keith,” Johnson interrupted. His patience was gone. The detective got up, ushered Case out of the office and closed the door.

 

Johnson turned back to the deejay. “Have a seat, Eddie.”

 

Eddie sat in one of the chairs as Johnson eased down on the edge of the desk. Keith returned to his place on the couch, notepad in hand.

 

“When did you last speak with your wife?”

 

Eddie frowned. “About five this afternoon, just before I left the apartment. Why? What’s going on? Is Rhonda okay?”

 

“She didn’t call or anything after you came to work?”

 

“No sir,” Eddie answered quickly. “I don’t take any calls or see anyone after I go on the air. She knows this. She wouldn’t call unless there was an emergency. Has anything happened to her?”

 

Johnson hated this part. Eddie was looking him straight in the eye. He leaned over and gently placed a hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. “Eddie,” he said softly, knowing he had to come right out with it, “your wife is dead.”

 

Eddie’s face tightened and the muscles in his jaw pulsed. “What?” he asked quietly as if he hadn’t heard.

 

It was Johnson who was not staring intently. “I’m sorry, son, she’s dead.”

 

Eddie shook his head, trying to comprehend the words he was hearing. “What?”

 

“Your wife is dead.”

 

Eddie swallowed hard a couple of times, then stood up, fists clenched. “What happened?”

 

Johnson stared hard at him and gave him a straight, cold statement. “She was found murdered in your apartment earlier tonight.”

 

Eddie shook his head again. There must be some kind of a mistake.”

 

“I wish there was, kid,” Johnson said. “The apartment manager identified her body.”

 

Eddie’s chin dropped. Although his eyes were wide open, he seemed to be focused on nothing. “Oh, God, I’m going to be sick.”

 

Eddie rushed around Case’s desk and through a door, evidently leading into a private bathroom where he threw up in the toilet. Johnson gave Keith a jerk of his head and the detective followed Eddie through the door. A few moments later, he returned and nodded to Johnson indicating that Eddie had really thrown up. A couple of minutes passed before Eddie emerged, wiping his face with a paper towel.

 

“Excuse me, I…oh God…” He began sobbing.

 

Johnson grabbed his arm gently and guided him to the couch. “Eddie, I know this is a shock, but we need information. The quicker we get it, the quicker we can find the killer. Let me start with the obvious: Do you know anyone who would want to harm your wife?”

 

Eddie was staring into space, shaking his head back and forth. The Lieutenant leanded down and looked into his eyes, but Eddie could see nothing. Johnson gave Keith a nod and the detective brought the manager back into the office.

 

“Mr. Case, Eddie’s wife was murdered tonight in their apartment,” Johnson said. He saw the man stiffen. “He’s in shock. He’s probably going to need a doctor and definitely a place to stay for the night. We’ve sealed off his apartment until the investigation is completed. Can you handle that?”

 

“Oh, my God,” Case said. “Of course.”

 

Johnson handed him a card. “My phone number is one it. Tomorrow morning when he wakes up, I’ll need him to come in and answer some questions. I also need to take him to his place to see if he can help us piece this thing together.”

 

Case nodded. “I’ll handle it. Can you tell me anything more?”

 

Johnson shook his head. “Only that his wife was murdered, tonight, evidently while he was on the air. It looks like it was done by someone who knew her. I’ll probably need to question anybody that works here who knew her. I’ll be back in touch with you Monday morning.”

 

Case sat down on the sofa and put an arm around Eddie’s shoulders. Johnson looked at them for several moments, motioned to Keith and they walked out the door.

 

(Continued until next week.)

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