He shrugged and said, “Pretty easy to figure out what happened. Pendleton left for work that morning, ran into a mugger, resisted, they struggled for the gun, and he got shot. Case closed.”
We paused for a minute while the waitress brought our drinks and then left. Apparently, Wykcoff’s usual was a shot and a beer.
“What’d the autopsy show?”
“One shot to the heart, .38-caliber. Guy probably died instantly.”
“Any ideas on the perp?”
“Shit, probably a brother. Come down off the Hill, lookin’ for an easy mark, runs into Pendleton.”
“At seven in the morning? Why would a mugger be roaming around a residential area at 7:00 a.m?”
“Hell, you know what those people are like, right?”
My patience was beginning to wear a bit thin with Detective Wykcoff.
“Actually, no, I don’t. Could you narrow it down a bit for me?”
“Huh?”
“Just pick one of those people for me. Identify him, maybe I’ll happen to know the person, so I can tell you what he’s like. Otherwise, I’m probably not gonna be able to help you out here.”
“Whaddya, some kind of smart guy or somethin’?”
“Well, I don’t like to brag, but I am a high school graduate. Did it on the first try, too. But you probably didn’t come here to hear about my educational triumphs. We can save that for another night. I can get you a copy of my transcript and everything.”
Wykcoff frowned and said, “Hey, I’m the one doing a favor here, ya know. You don’t want to take advantage of my expertise, that’s fine with me.”
There were still some things I needed to know, so I kept my mouth shut, something Angie had been telling me to do more of for about three decades.
“Rachel Pendleton told me that her husband never would have resisted a mugger. And she said his wallet was still on him when he was found. Were there any indications that he actually did try to fight off someone?”
“Christ, what else could it have been? He and the mugger fought, the mugger shot him, panicked and ran, that’s it.”
“How far away was he from the person who shot him?”
Wykcoff hesitated for a minute and then said, “Coroner says his best guess is about five feet or so.”
“Five feet? I thought you said they were struggling for the gun. What were they doing, hurling insults at each other from five paces?”
“Hey, the coroner ain’t always right.”
“Well,” I said, “you have a point there. All he’s got to work with are those expensive machines and technology and stuff.”
Before he could say anything, I quickly continued.
“Look, Detective Wykcoff, did you look into Pendleton’s life at all, check out his background, where he worked, etcetera?”
Somewhat in a huff, he replied, “I know how to do my job, wise guy. Sure, I checked everything out. Got his bank records, everything okay there. No criminal record. No problems at work, at least as far as I could tell from talkin’ to those tight-asses at Chaney and Cox. No marital problems, and I wouldn’t expect there to be, not with that honey he was married to, although you can’t blame a man for havin a little on the side, no matter how good-lookin’ his wife is.”
“So as far as you’re concerned, there’s no need to continue investigating this thing?”
“Like I told you, as far as I’m concerned, the only thing left is to hope we get lucky and nab the guy who shot Pendleton. It’ll probably happen when one of the other brothers gets picked up on an unrelated matter and decides to rat out his buddy. Those people have no sense of honor.”
The waitress came by to ask about refills. Wykcoff told her he’d have the usual again, and I asked for a couple of aspirin. She said she’d be right back.
“Got a headache, huh?” Wykcoff asked when she’d left.
“Oh, yeah,” I told him, as I rubbed my temple with my fingers. “Look, do you think there’s any chance at all that this could have been something more than just a mugging? I mean, seven o’clock in the morning, a single shot to the heart from five feet away, nobody saw anyone in the area prior to the shooting, the guy’s wallet wasn’t taken.”
“How come you’re tryin’ to make more outta this thing than there is? You wanna string along the broad, that’s fine with me, but don’t expect me to help, ya know? I did my job.”
“If doing your job includes being lazy, ignoring the facts, failing to use deductive reasoning, and being a racist, well, then, yes, detective, I would have to agree that you did your job.” Perhaps I had reached the limit of my patience with Detective Carson.
“Hey,” he said, “I ain’t no racist.”
“I’ll be sure to pass that along to Detective Wilcox. It’s probably been keeping him up nights.”
“You can tell Denny anything you want. He’s – ”
“Carson,” I said, “if you say he’s one of the good ones, I swear I’ll smack you into the middle of next week.”
“I was gonna say that Denny’s a friend of mine. I talk to him alla time, just like he was a regular guy.”
At that point, the waitress came back. She gave Wykcoff his drinks and then turned to hand me the two aspirin she’d actually brought. I stood up and tossed two twenties on her tray.
“Thanks, Elaine. You keep the aspirin, too. Working here, I figure you need’em more than I do.” She gave me a smile that indicated she was aware of a lot more than most of her customers figured she was, then walked away. I looked down at Detective Wkycoff.
“Carson, old buddy, it’s been, well, certainly enlightening. I wouldn’t have thought people with your value system still existed, but that just shows you how wrong I can be, right?”
While he struggled with that, I walked out. So much for my contribution to police-community relations.
Smack you into the middle of next week?
Chapter 11
On the drive home from Clancey’s, I was not a happy
