GAMER (eBook)

10

At 10:16 in the morning of the second, a mounted patrolmen in Central Park heard some commotion in a thick bushy section of the park behind the Metropolitan Museum of Art. He rode over by the bushes where he found a frantic, unleashed dog barking and scraping away. Its frustrated owner was trying to get her dog to come. The patrolman scolded her for not having her dog on a leash. As he turned his horse to ride away, he saw the body.

She was lying neatly on the ground as if she was in a coffin. She was an elderly woman, maybe in her eighties. She had been tucked back under some bushes and partially covered with leaves. Her hands were folded across her chest. She looked like she had been placed there by a mortician. Her neck was cleanly sliced by a garrote wire. On her forehead was a yellow post-it note. The patrolmen radioed for help.

When the crime scene unit arrived and secured the area, the post-it note was taken from the victims forehead. Written on the note was:

Time of death: 11:55 PM

The first day of the month

Score: GAMER 1 SPARKY 0

That same afternoon, another hand delivered letter arrived at the Tribune for Sparky Blake.

Dear Sparky:

Because of that unpleasant headline GAMER DUD, I may have to do a double next time. Maybe an elderly couple. Sort of like your parents. Isn’t this fun?

GAMER

Sparky Blake called his parents out in Jersey. As soon as he had satisfied himself that they were all right, and not planning any trips into the City, he took the latest letter to his boss. They ended up on the sixth floor again. In about five minutes, a police inspector arrived in the Board room to take possession of the letter. The Inspector confirmed the Central Park discovery, but would give no further details. He told them that the PC would probably have a press conference later in the day.

Efforts to develop information about the person who delivered the letter were unproductive other than that the security officer it was handed to said the guy looked like a homeless bum. They had failed to detain the messenger. LoMurko had been called about the new letter and was furious that the paper’s security boss had not set up a routine to grab anyone who delivered letters in person. After all, the security boss was a former NYPD detective. He should have known better. It would be very helpful to question that person and get the details of how he came to possess the letter. That was a big mistake and would not happen again.

LoMurko sent his driver, Danny, over to pick up Ian and drive him up to the park. Smitty and Robbie were already there, doing their thing. The crime scene had been cordoned off with about a one hundred yard circumference to keep the press away. The entire area was carefully inspected and the Crime Scene guys were excited about a possible footprint they had found.

“Anything besides the possible foot print, Jim?” Ian asked.

“Yea, the field guy from the ME’s office says that there is no way this woman was killed before midnight. She had only been dead about six hours. He thinks she was killed closer to three or four this morning. So GAMER must have been out here fixing her up shortly before daylight. Pretty reckless.”

“Good. This guy’s careless. He’ll make mistakes. Let’s hope he makes one soon.”

“The medical examiner also is pretty sure she was dead before she was garroted because there was almost no bleeding from the wound. Just like the guy on the farm up in Patterson. He thinks there may be some kind of poison used. He doesn’t have the Toxicology reports back yet. They will take a while even though they are giving it a rush.”

“Do we have any idea who the victim is?”

“Not yet, but I’m told that a maid called the 19th precinct. She came to work and found that the lady she works for was not at home and the house didn’t look like she had been there all night. The detectives are heading over to the apartment. It’s an upscale place on 68th street. Oh, and another thing, while the deceased didn’t have any ID, she had eighty-seven dollars in her purse. The killer didn’t take it.”

“That’s interesting. I guess he doesn’t need or want the money. Has anything been said to the press yet?”

“An inspector has confirmed that this is the work of this GAMER character and announced that the Police Commissioner would be having a press conference, maybe with the Mayor. I think we are in the clear on the press end. I have ordered that, if we learn who the deceased is, we should not reveal her identity. At least not at first. It’s just one more detail we have to keep for ourselves.”

******

The maid let the two detectives in. She had been crying. She hadn’t asked for any ID but they both took out their credentials and showed them to her. She waived them off and reached for the arm of a chair sitting against the wall in the lobby for support. As she did, she said, “You have to forgive me. I am so upset I know something has happened to the Missus. Please, come into the living room with me so we can talk.”

She walked down the hall. The detectives followed. They found seats in the spacious living room.

“What can I do to help you?” she asked.

“Did you call the precinct a few minutes ago?” asked the senior of the two detectives.

“I called 911 when I saw that the missus had not been home all night. That is not like her. 911 switched me to the local precinct and I talked to someone there.”

“May we have your name?” the younger detective asked as he prepared to write in his note pad.

“I am Alma Schwamb. I am Mrs. Walker’s maid. I have worked here for the last ten years.”

“Tell us what happened this morning.”

“I came to work as usual, at seven in the morning. I let myself in with my key and proceeded to prepare the missus’ breakfast. At seven thirty, I went to her bedroom to awaken her and that was when I saw that she was missing. She was not in her bed and her bed had not been slept in. It was as I had left it after making it yesterday. I quickly looked around the apartment and called for her. When I could not find her, I went to her appointment book to make sure she was not visiting her son in Greenwich, Connecticut. She is very good about keeping her appointment book. I saw that she was scheduled to go to the theatre last night with Alice Moon, her friend, so I called Mrs. Moon. She told me that they had dinner and went to the theatre after which the missus hailed a cab to go home. That was around eleven at night and it was the last time anyone saw the missus. Mrs. Moon was very upset when I told her the missus was not here and she suggested I call the police. I did. What has happened to her?’

“Mrs. Scwhamb, we have a picture we would like you to look at. I want to warn you that the person in the picture has been murdered. Are you okay to look at the picture?”

The maid pressed her lips together trying not to cry. Then she started to sob. “I guess I have to look at it.” She put up her hand and the detective handed her the picture. As she looked at it, the maid fainted. The detectives grabbed her and put her on the couch were they could put her feet up. They put a cushion under her knees and the younger detective went to the kitchen to get some water. After a cold cloth was applied to her forehead, she recovered and realized what had happened. She started to cry again and said, “Oh my God. It is the missus. What did they do to her?”

The detectives let her rest for a few minutes. She insisted on getting up. A little wobbly at first, she slowly recovered. “Where is she, I want to take care of her.”

“What was her full name?”

“Wyanna Dunn Walker”

“Does she have any family?”

“She has a son who is an orthopedic surgeon at Columbia Presbyterian Hospital. He lives in Greenwich, Connecticut but is probably at the hospital by now. He has crazy hours. I’ll get his cell number so we can call him. Her husband, who was a famous heart surgeon, died last year. There may be some brothers or sisters, but if there are I have never met them.”

“How can I get a hold of Mrs. Moon?”

I’ll get you her phone number. Why would anyone want to murder the Missus? She was the kindest woman in the world. All she wanted to do was help people. She saved Mrs. Moon’s life.

“How did she do that?”

When Mrs. Moon’s husband died, she wanted to commit suicide. The missus talked her out of jumping off her balcony, got her hospitalized, got her a money manager who showed her how she would survive on her deceased husband’s estate. It was so typically the missus. Always helping people. She has put our son through college. The maid broke down again and started to sob.

“Did they take her money?”

No. It wasn’t a robbery. We think it may have been a random killing.”

“A random killing? How awful.”

The detectives’ visit to Wisteria Moon was unproductive. After the theatre, she and Mrs. Walker had a coffee and when the theatre crowd had dispersed, they went outside to look for a cab. When the first cab came, Mrs. Moon insisted that Mrs. Walker take it. She would grab the next one. When asked, Mrs. Moon could think of nothing unique about any of the cabs or their drivers.

******

Predictably, the papers had their headlines

WEALTHY WIDOW...