HYDE
Chapter 6




McKenna tried to keep it brief and vague with Heidi, but he didn't get away with it. On camera in front of the station house she started with an introduction that made him blush, giving an outline of his famous cases as if his history was common knowledge. She appeared to be his biggest fan, but with a number of pointed questions she still got him to say it. What it boiled down to was that no matter how cold the weather, no matter how it looked, and no matter what the silly folks on those other stations said, that poor man on East 31st Street didn't freeze to death. Ace Sleuth McKenna thought he had been murdered. Poisoned, no less.
     Just wonderful! McKenna thought as Heidi wrapped it up. Tune in tomorrow for continuing developments and future pronouncements from our hero. He really knows how to handle the press.
     But Heidi had still another surprise for him. As soon as her cameraman turned his camera off, she grabbed him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, then whispered in his ear, "Thanks, Brian. Was it good for you?"
     One or two responses immediately came to mind, but he brought himself under control in time. "Just swell," he answered with a rigid smile on his face. "How can I ever repay you for your kindness?"
     "Easy. No matter what, think nice thoughts about me."
     That was far from easy for McKenna, but he managed to keep his smile on until Heidi got into her van. Then he walked to Third Avenue and hailed a taxi. "Thirty-first and Second," he told the driver.

*     *     *

McKenna had called the morgue before his interview with Heidi, hoping for something to support his theory, but they hadn't started on Benny yet. He was still being defrosted.
     The pressure was building and McKenna thought the best way to use the time before the autopsy was to go over the crime scene. He knew that, in many cases, it was difficult for a pathologist to categorically determine if a person was poisoned or not without an idea of the reagent used. The cup would fit the bill. If there was anything left in it, the forensic technicians could use the lab's trace spectrometer to determine the chemical composition.
     He wasn't out of the taxi long before he realized how slim were his chances of finding the cup. He thought the murderer might not have discarded it in the first place, but rather kept it as some kind of trophy. Then he found that the Department of Sanitation had already picked up the garbage from the apartment buildings at seven that morning, before McKenna knew about Benny. That left only the corner refuse baskets, so he spent a cold hour at the unpleasant task of searching every refuse basket in the neighborhood around East Thirty-first Street and Second Avenue. His fingers were numb by the time he was satisfied that Benny's cup was not in any of them.
     His next stop was the Citibank, although he thought he was grasping at straws questioning the bank workers about the homeless people who spent the nights in their lobby. But he found something there that he hadn't noticed that morning, something that gave him a glimmer of hope. Just inside the lobby were two cameras mounted in a corner of the ceiling. One focused on the lobby ATM machines and the other was pointed at the front door. As he opened the bank door, he saw the red light on the front of the camera flash. It was a lot to ask, but he had always been considered a lucky detective; just maybe Benny's companion had been captured on film.
     The cold was keeping people home, so McKenna was next in line to see the branch manager. Considering that a lucky sign, he took a seat and waited. Then he noticed the manager's nameplate on her desk and welcomed it as another lucky sign. Charity Bucks was the most unlikely name for a bank manager, but there she was, a black woman, thirty-something, slim, and smartly dressed in a gray pin-striped business suit that said: Don't mess with me, I'm the boss around here. However, the attempt was in vain because the intended effect of the suit stopped short at her neck. She had a kind face, the perfect background for a friendly smile.
     Trying to decide if she was beautiful or just plain pretty, McKenna was so intent on her smile that he didn't notice it was for him until she asked, "You're here to see me, aren't you?"
     "Sorry, I was daydreaming," he said, feeling foolish.
     "Detective McKenna, isn't it?" she inquired, keeping the smile on as she pointed to the chair next to her desk.
     Now how did she know that? McKenna wondered. "Yes, Brian McKenna," he said, sitting down. "I'm investigating the death of the man who died outside last night."
     "And you want the film from our lobby cameras, right?"
     McKenna was stunned and realized his mouth hung open as he stared, smiling and looking like she was really enjoying herself at his expense.
     Wait a minute, he thought as he recovered. Nobody can be this sharp. But how can she know I'd want the film when I just thought of it myself? Then it came to him and he realized he was wrong. There was somebody that sharp. "I guess you're a friend of Maureen's, aren't you?"
     Charity's smile faded just a little. McKenna could see she was sorry the joke was over, almost. "Very good, Brian," she said, looking at her watch. "She said you'd be around asking about the film sometime this morning."
     McKenna couldn't help himself. He had to check his own watch and saw it was five minutes to twelve. Just made it, he thought, but it didn't give him much satisfaction knowing he was only five minutes away from being a dope, as far as Maureen was concerned. Maybe as far as Charity was concerned, too. "I was beginning to get worried about you," she said.
     "I would have been here sooner, but I had a lot to do this morning. When was Maureen here?"
     "She wasn't. She called me about cashing some checks for Kerri and getting her some help."
     "You know Kerri, too?"
     "Of course. I've been at this branch for six years and I've lived in this neighborhood for ten. Lots of people around here know her. She's a nice girl, in her own crazy way."
     "How about Benny? Did you know him, too?"
     "Well enough to avoid him, whenever I could. He didn't like me at all."
     That lowered McKenna's opinion of Benny even further. He figured anyone who didn't like Charity had to be no good. "Why didn't he like you?"
     "Because we tried to get Kerri away from him."
     "We? You mean you and Maureen?"
     "I mean the Kips Bay Rotary Club. Maureen and I are both members and we got the club to put her up a few times. Even got her an apartment, but she always left and went back to Benny."
     She said it like it almost made sense, which indicated to McKenna that she was the kind of person who gave her time and money without demanding results. "Maybe this time it'll be different," she added.
     "You're getting her another place?"
     "Not me. Maureen took her to Ben Rosen. He's a good friend of hers."
     McKenna knew that Maureen had friends everywhere, but Ben Rosen was a surprise. Rosen, a wealthy and influential retired lawyer, ran an advocacy group called the Grand Central Coalition for the Homeless. He always managed to get publicity for his cause and had become something of a gadfly to the police department, critical of its sporadic efforts to remove to city shelters the homeless people living in Grand Central Station and the connecting subway stations and adamant in his conviction that panhandling was a guaranteed constitutional right under the First Amendment.
     What especially bothered the chiefs was that Rosen always seemed to have advance notice of any police sweep and could get an injunction barring the operation quicker than any lawyer in the city. Knowing that he had to lose at the hearing, he would then manage to postpone it many times, in the process generating unfavorable publicity for the department at each court appearance. He was tireless and financially unsparing in his efforts, but McKenna found him personally obnoxious and suspected Rosen was in it mainly because he liked being in front of the cameras.
     But Rosen's personality was just one thing that surprised McKenna about Maureen's friendship with him. The other also worried him, and it had to do with politics. Being known as a friend of Rosen's would have to be detrimental to a detective's career, even a detective like Maureen Kaplowitz. After all, Rosen always seemed to know.
     McKenna was certain that Maureen would never divulge official business to Rosen, but the chiefs can be a paranoid and vengeful lot when their plans are thwarted, especially when they wind up with bad publicity in the process. McKenna didn't expect Charity to know that. "This may sound silly, Charity, but I wouldn't mention Maureen's and Rosen's name in the same sentence," he cautioned her.
     At first, Charity appeared startled by McKenna's advice. Then she smiled at him, reprovingly. "I know that, but you're a friend of hers, aren't you?"
     Once again, Charity had made him feel foolish. He realized it wasn't his advice that had startled her; it was that he had felt a need to offer it. Like him, she knew Maureen was special. Friendship with a person like her was a privilege that carried certain responsibilities. Loyalty was chief among them.
     "Yes, I'm a friend of hers, and proud of it." Enough said in that department, he thought. Let's get back to business. "Do you know any of Benny's friends?"
     That was a tough one for Charity. She had to think a while before answering, "He knew a lot of people, but I don't think he had any friends."
     A man without a single friend? What an epitaph, McKenna thought. He noticed that Charity must have thought the same thing and was kind enough to be bothered by the prospect. She kept thinking, then smiled. "Father Hays, maybe."
     "The priest from St. Francis of Assisi?"
     "Yes. Do you know him?"
     "Not personally, but I heard about him. He's an honorary police chaplain."
     "He also runs a soup kitchen at the church and works with Operation Intercession, trying to keep the homeless people in touch with their families. You might want to talk to him."
     "Thanks, I will."
     "Anything else I can help you out with?"
     "The film?"
     "Oh, you've kept me so busy talking that I forgot to tell you. We don't have the keys to the cameras here. That's handled by bank security. I called them and they told me they'd have somebody here before closing time to get the film out."
     "They're single-frame stills, aren't they?"
     "I guess so. All I know is that one camera goes on every time the front door opens and the other one snaps a picture five seconds after somebody takes out cash from the ATMs. It's a new system, so I've never seen any of the pictures."
     Then I sure hope they're working like they're supposed to, McKenna thought. Someone must have walked in and used the machine while Benny was outside drinking with his pal. Just maybe he gave Benny a swig somewhere near the front door. Now here comes the hard part. "I'll need just one more favor, but it's a big one."
     "Whatever I can do."
     "I'll need the names, addresses, and phone numbers of all the people who used the ATMs last night, along with the times they used the machines. I'm hoping that at least one of them will be able to describe the guy Benny was drinking with."
     McKenna could see by Charity's reaction to his request that it was a big one. He thought she was mulling over bank rules and regulations, but that wasn't it at all. "It seems such a shame to bother all those people over someone like Benny," she said.
     From what he had learned about Benny so far, McKenna found himself in agreement with her. Benny's death was what detectives in the Homicide Squad call a `Public Service Murder,' and he thought it unfortunate that he had a personal stake in solving this one. "I'm sorry, but I need the information," he said.
     "I understand," Charity said. "I can give you everything on the people who used a Citibank card. For the people who used cards from another bank, all I'll be able to get is the name of their bank and their account number."
     "That's fine. If I need to, I'll get it from the other banks. Can I pick up the information and the pictures at three o'clock?"
     "Sure. If you want, I can have the security people deliver it to you if it's ready before then."
     "No, that's all right," McKenna said. "I'll be here to pick it up at three. I'm gonna be at the Bellevue Morgue until then and I don't think they'll want to go there."
     Charity shuddered at the mention of the morgue. "You're probably right. I feel sorry for you going to that place."
     McKenna was busy repressing his own shudder. I feel sorry for me, too, he thought.

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