“You could get a brick wall to smile,” he said. ”How about dinner tonight?”
“Love it, Commander.”?
At 61, the Deputy Chief of Police Bureaus was everything the public wanted in a top cop. He was straight and tall, gruffly handsome, his jet black hair streaked white at the temples, his voice tough and commanding. The only son of Italian immigrants, he had climbed up the bureaucratic chain of command the hard way, rising from the meanest streets of New York to a position that many felt put him in line to be the next chief of the best police force in the country.
Stinelli was admired both as an innovative risk-taker and a devoted family man. His office was decorated with photographs of his family; his parents’ wedding photograph beside his own, his two daughters and son growing up, his mom always there in the background at first communions, high school graduations, weddings, frolicking with her seven grandchildren, standing beside her grandson, David, the day he was awarded his wings at the Air Force Academy.
Lou’s first words upon entering the office every morning were, “Hi Pop, I love you.” His father had died on the beach in Omaha the day Lou was born.
His last as he left the office for the day were, “Night Dave, sleep well.”?
Stinelli was leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed, running the speech one more time. He did not see the red light blinking on one of his telephone lines or when it steadied as his secretary, Gloria, answered it. When his phone buzzed it startled him. He snatched it up.
“I told you no calls, Gloria. Did I tell you that or was I dreamin’?”
“Yes you did, Commander, but…”
“I’m late for my first meeting already.”
“Actually you have thirty minutes before you have to leave, sir.”
“I’m still working on my speech.”
“It’s Jake Sallinger at Metro Magazine. He says he only needs a minute or two.”
“Since when did the press ever want a minute or two? What does he want?”
“He said it’s a matter of importance.”
Stinelli’s shoulders drooped. “It’s always a matter of importance with Sallinger. If the light’s on for five minutes cut in and tell me the car’s waiting.”
“Yes sir. Line one.”
He speared the button with his forefinger.
“I got a meeting in fifteen minutes, Jake. Keep it short or call back later in the day.”
“It’s no big deal, Lou. I’ve got a writer working on an article. He needs a little help.”
“What kind of help?”
“It’s about a cold case…”
“Cold case?” Stinelli cut him off. “What cold case?”
“Remember a homicide about two years ago involving a woman named Melinda Cramer?”
“Sure. A suicide that turned into murder.”
“We’re doing an article on her.”
“Why? That’s old news.”
“It’s, uh, part of a series. You know how my fact finders are. They’re real bloodhounds and my writer can’t locate the homicide and autopsy reports. He wants to check some details.”
Bells went off in Stinelli’s head.
“What writer?”
There was a pause. “Is that important?”
“Is it some kind of secret? I’m curious. Call it the cop in me. ”
“Ward Lee Hamilton.”
Stinelli rolled his eyes. “The smart alec who thinks he’s smarter than my cops? The one who dresses like a clown?”
“He’s a trend-setter,” Sallinger said.
“Trend for who, Barnum and Bailey? Nobody else in their right mind dresses like that.”
“What’s the difference who the writer is, Commander? We’re talking about a homicide report. Public record. Hamilton is a meticulous researcher. He’s just trying to do his job.”
“Why are you calling me?” Stinelli snapped. “Tell him to check the damn dead files.”
“He’s checked everywhere. Maybe it got misplaced. It’s a freedom of information thing. I thought a call from…”
“What the hell’s that mean? A freedom of information thing. That some kind of threat?”
“No, no. But he’s very persistent and…is there a problem?”
“Jake, I’m preparing for an important meeting at City Hall. After that I’m tied up for most of the afternoon.”
“Is that a no?”
“It’s an ‘I don’t know.’ I’m not a micro-manager. I’ll put Gloria on it and get back to you.”
“He’s on a tight deadline, Lou. Please don’t stonewall me on this…”
“Stonewall hell. I said I’ll check into it.”
“Hamilton’s going to Philly to accept some kind of award tonight and tomorrow’s Saturday. Can I expect a call back, say, Monday?”
“I said I’ll check on it.”
He slammed down the phone.
“Gloria.”
She stuck her head in the door.
“It was only three minutes,” she stammered.
“Has Captain Cody called in today?”
“Yes, sir, but you said to hold your calls.”
“Find him. Now. Then check with Manhattan North and South and the Cold Case Squad and see if they have the files on the Melinda Cramer case. And tell my car to come around.”?
Cody and Charley were headed toward the Loft when Gloria caught up with him. A second later Stinelli was on his cell phone.
“Where are you?” Stinelli asked.
“Walking east on Canal. Charley and I are headed for the office.”
“Head over to Broadway. I’ll pick you up in about two minutes. Put Charley up front with Berno.”
“Okay.”
Cody and Charley walked to Broadway and waited for a couple of minutes and then saw the black Cadillac a block away. He crossed to the far side of the street, waited until the Caddy pulled up, and opened the front door.
“Hi Berno,” he said to the policeman assigned to the Commander.
“Captain,” Berno nodded.
“Hop in, Charley,” Cody said and the big shepherd jumped in. Berno Adashek smiled and rubbed his ears as Cody got in the back. Stinelli was sitting upright, his fingers drumming his knees.
“Hi, kid,” Stinelli said. “Mind taking a drive down to City Hall with me? Berno will bring you back.”
“Whatever you say, Chief. Gloria tell you I called?”
“Yeah. Got something working?”
Cody nodded.
“We’ll get to that in a minute. You’ve heard of Ward Lee Hamilton, right?”
“I occasionally read the papers. Even a book when I have time.”
Stinelli chuckled. “Has he called your office in the last coupla days?”
“Nope.”
“Ever met him?”
“Nope.”
“What do you know about him?”
“Well, I don’t know a cop who’d shed a tear if he got run over by an eighteen-wheeler.”
