Requiem for Moses

Claire had joined Stan.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“Good work, Manj,” Tully said. “Damn good work!”

Mangiapane smiled broadly. Due mainly to his following his instincts at the service station, his squad- Lieutenant Tully’s squad-had been given the green light to proceed full force on investigating what was now termed the murder of Stan Lacki.

After Pat Lennon had taken Claire McNern away, Mangiapane’s suspicions were aroused. The more he heard about Lacki’s expertise in things mechanical, the more Mangiapane wondered about this “accident.”

For Lacki to have gotten under that car without safety precautions, he would’ve had to have empirical confidence in that hydraulic floor jack. Lacki would have been willing to bet his last dollar on the reliability of that jack. Lacki was a confident mechanic. But he was not foolhardy.

What had happened to that jack?

Mangiapane ordered the jack dusted for prints.

Then he had the manager examine the tool. There was nothing wrong with it. The oil they had found at the base of the handle had not come from the jack. How did that oil get on the jack? Why?

There was fresh oil on the garage floor as well as on Lacki’s uniform. So the missing car probably had been leaking. Could it have been driven far from the station?

Mangiapane established a priority on the prints. He rounded up as many officers as possible to canvas the surrounding neighborhoods for a suspicious or abandoned car.

Now the division was reaping the benefit of Mangiapane’s careful work.

On the jack handle were prints that partially covered Lacki’s. He had not been the last to touch the jack. Additionally, the handle had been turned as far as it would go to the left. The counterclockwise turn had released the jack.

The scenario now played out that someone had lured Lacki from the safety of the enclosure. Lacki had jacked the car up from the floor and slid under it. Then someone had given the handle a turn, and the car had crashed down on Lacki, killing him.

Then the killer drove away. Not because he or she was afraid to stay and explain an accident to the police, but because the murder was done and the killer needed to get away.

A street-to-street check in the vicinity turned up an abandoned Mercury Grand Marquis two blocks from the station. It had a punctured oil pan. Fingerprints on the wheel and the rear view mirror matched those taken from the jack’s handle. On the underside of the car was blood matching Stan Lacki’s, and fibers matching his clothes.

The case had moved from a tragic accident to first-degree murder. Still to be determined were the motive and an identity to go with the fingerprints.

Nonetheless, Mangiapane was enjoying his current fifteen minutes.

“Zoo,” one of Tully’s officers said over the din, “line two for you? Lennon from the News.”

“Pat,” Tully greeted her.

“Zoo, I’m calling about that service station death-Stan Lacki.”

“Yeah, we’re on it.”

Lennon hadn’t expected that. She was unaware of the measures Mangiapane had taken after she left to take Claire home. “Have you done anything about the two extra cars in the garage-the ones that occupied the two hoists?”

“No. Is there something?”

“Yeah, I think so. It just seemed too coincidental that the hoists would be occupied so that Lacki had to use a jack that failed. I’ve got a bunch of bad vibes about this death.”

Without hesitation, Tully brought her up to speed on the investigation. “Now, you were saying something about the cars that were on the hoists? They were there to be worked on first thing, no?”

“Yeah, that was the stated purpose. But I thought it was a little convenient. So I took the license numbers. They’re both leased by a GOB Company. You familiar with it?”

Tully smiled. “Yeah. An acronym for Good Old Boys, Inc. A shadow corporation headed by Billy Bob Higbie. Hey, that’s interesting: Billy Bob might not be adverse to accepting a contract on somebody. Vice has dealt with the GOBs before-everything from protection rackets to prostitution to drugs. If I remember correctly, Billy Bob’s underlings take the fall if they’re caught. We’ve never nailed Billy Bob himself-and we’ve never gone after him for a contract killing.”

“There’s always a first time.”

“You think?”

“What if that’s their plan? They want to get Lacki alone in the station. I already checked with the guy whose place Lacki took. He was called out of town in a hurry after he got a message that there was illness in his family. The illness turned out to be nonexistent. But that puts Lacki in the garage alone. Then Billy Bob’s people bring in two cars late in the day to make sure the hoists are filled and Lacki will have to use the jack.”

“So, a conspiracy! Sounds good. But why?”

“At this point, and with no good reason, I’d say it’s got something to do with the Moe Green case … but I don’t know what.”

There was a long pause while Tully seemed to be listening to someone else. “I think we got your connection,” Tully said finally. “They just found Claire McNern dead.”

“No! God, no! When? Where?”

“Within the past hour. In her apartment.”

“I drove her home from the station.”

“Mangiapane told me.”

“I can’t believe it. I asked if she wanted me to go in with her, but she said no. So I sat and waited till she was inside her building.”

“Initial report says it was suicide.”

“Yeah,” Lennon said bitterly, “just like Lacki was an accident!”

“You took her home, so you know where she lives.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

By the time Lennon, Tully, and Mangiapane arrived in separate cars, the media was gathering. There were more than a few gripes when Lennon walked past them and disappeared inside with Tully. They all knew Lennon had a beat on this story. But seeing her handed another lead on a silver platter rankled. “She’s a material witness,” Mangiapane said over his shoulder as he passed through the journalists.

The police technicians were at work on their various specialties. One officer had been collating the information as the investigation continued. “Whaddya got so far?” Tully asked.

“So far, it looks like suicide.”

“Give it to me from the top.”

The officer consulted his notes throughout. “The couple downstairs heard a shot-or so they guessed-at about seven this morning.”

“Did they check it out?”

The officer shook his head. “It wasn’t their problem. And it wasn’t going to become their problem as long as they stayed out of it.”

“Ummm.”

“It was the manager of the station her fiance worked for who found her. Seems he brought her car to her-it was being repaired. He knocked at the door-says he wanted to make sure she was all right and to give her the car keys.”

“Did he touch anything?”