Chapter 11

  Twenty-four hours after the call was made notifying the NYPD that they would find a dead body in bed at the Sinclair Arms Apartments, Douglas Chambers and James Swinger were standing in front of Lieutenant Salvatore's desk. “So let me understand this, we have three stiffs, all killed with hemlock, the first stiff got beat to hell after she died. The second stiff died in the hospital after spilling half of his blood all over Holding, he also just so happened to be the chief suspect in the death of the first. The third stiff, coworker of the second, who had spent the night prior with the other two died in his office. That's where we are at?”

  “Yes Lieutenant.” Douglas was standing at full attention. All Jim did was nod slowly.

  “Oh wait! How can we forget that I have the Commissioner and all the stuff shirts at the Big White Castle down my god damn neck because of this shit!” Lieutenant Salvatore threw the early morning issue of the New York Post down onto his already cluttered desk.

  The headline was printed in the biggest font the paper had, “Serial Poisoner on the Loose?” It was fear mongering plain and simple but with three deaths in less than a day all from the same source would cause the city to panic. “If we don't figure this out very and I mean very soon, this whole city is going to go ape shit. Do you two have any leads?”

  “We were going back to Max's house, hopefully be able to look around a little more. Wife is a damn loon.” Jim answered

  “Make it quick boys.”

  With that statement they both knew that it meant it was time for them to leave. As they headed back to the corner where their desks were the Desk Sargent called out. “Detectives! Got a message for you from the switchboard. Some fella named Miller said that he found the documents on the stiff.”

  Jim Swinger had just plopped himself into his chair, the wood creaking under his weight, slapping his knees he stood back up. “Guess there's work to do.”

  In about ten minutes Douglas and Jim pulled up outside the Sinclair Arms Apartments, the sky was still steel gray with a persistent drizzle accompanying it. It had been a wet and humid summer in the City.

  Inside the same art déco foyer that Douglas was struck by the day earlier, Art Miller was waiting for them. “Detectives! How good of you to come this early.” He shuffled over to them, his heavy bottomed shoes dragging on the tile.

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  “How long have you been waiting Mr. Miller?” Douglas asked.

  “Not long, I was just passing across the lobby when I saw you park out front. If you want to follow me to the office, I found all the documents I have on Miss. Fletcher.” Art said looking over the heavy rims and lens of his glasses. He turned and started making for the small office next to the elevator.

  Walking by Douglas noticed that the “Out of Order” sign was removed from the elevator. Inside the small office was a single card table being used as a desk with a humming florescent light bulb exposed on a rope from the middle of the ceiling. “Here you go, Detectives.” Art handed Douglas a thin manila folder.

  Douglas took it out into the hallway so he could get a better view of its contents. There was not much to speak of inside, six pages of a rental agreement and receipts of each rent payment that Grace had made. Flipping through the pages of the lease nothing stood out until his eyes got to the “Employment” section. Grace had written her occupation as “Nurse” and her place of employment as “Montefiore Hospital”

  “Hey Jim, take a look at this. Grace apparently worked at the hospital, did you see any Nurse's dresses when we looked around?”

  “Don't remember seeing any, lots of cocktail dresses though.”

  “Yeah that's what I noticed too. Looks like we are taking a trip to the hospital today.” Douglas said as he tapped the lease in his hand.

  Art Miller came shuffling after them, clearly determined by the speed at which he feet were dragging. “Before you leave Detectives, when do you believe the apartment will be cleared out?”

  “Looking to move someone in already? Girl isn't even cold yet.” Jim said with the disgust showing with every syllable.

  “As harsh as it may seem, yes. I pray that God lets her poor soul rest, however this is a business.”

  “Mr. Miller, this is an active investigation. We are doing the most through investigation we can into the horrible atrocity that has happened here. If you would like to submit documentation for loss of income to the Police Headquarters located at 240 Centre Street, they will be able to pay for any losses you may incur. We would also like to applaud you for doing your civic duty and helping with this investigation, the City thanks you.” Douglas spoke with the tone that he normally only reserved for speaking to the Press.

  Without waiting for a response from Art, Douglas and Jim left the building. Walking down the stone steps to their car Jim said, “That was a load of horse shit you just told him. You know the city won't pay shit.”

  “Oh I know, but it shut him up.” Douglas chuckled as he slide into the driver's seat and started the eight cylinder engine. “Let's go see if Miss Fletcher was telling the truth on this lease.” Placing the car in drive, they sped off in the direction of Montefiore Hospital.