Comments about this story can be sent to pointme2@yahoo.com
PART THREE
Angel's Flight - Part Four
By
Starsky's Sweet Angel
"What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Starsk?"
Hutchinson's reaction was reserved, even calm, considering the fact that his partner had sprung the startling news of his tentative engagement on him while they were sitting in Captain Kraft's office. He'd delivered his response at half of what its normal decibel level would have been had they been somewhere more private. And despite all efforts to reason with his partner on the subject, Starsky refused to budge an inch.
"There's nothin' you can say that's going to change my mind. If I made a mistake I wanna fix it."
"Oh, you're gonna fix it, all right."
"What's that supposed ta mean?" Starsky folded his arms in front of him defiantly.
The blond stabbed a finger at him. "This has got to be the stupidest stunt you've ever pulled in your life."
"You know what's the matter with you? You…you're selfish, that's what it is. You been sharing space with me for so long, you can't see straight for lookin'."
"You're right about that." Hutch rolled his eyes, his voice subdued. "But I'll bet I'm seein' a whole lot straighter than you are right now. And that's sayin' a lot. I mean, how long have you known this girl? A week or so at the most?"
The darker man wrinkled his brow. "It's been nearly a week and a half, but hey, who's countin'? Anyway, who says that's not long enough for two people to get to know each other?"
"It might be long enough for a parakeet or a dog, but we're talking about two flesh and blood human beings here. Come on, Starsk, what do you really know about her? Besides the fact that she's beautiful, and that both her parents are dead?"
Starsky tried to come up with something more concrete than what he was thinking, but he finally gave up and said, "I know I love her."
"Look Starsk, you said you and she were only together once, so the odds of you being the kid's father are probably slim to none. Couldn't you at least wait until you're sure of what the situation is, before you make a major decision like this? Then if you still feel the same way, you won't hear another word from me, I'll back you up one hundred percent."
"You seem to be overlooking one important thing, Hutch.
"What's that?"
"What happens if it turns out I am?"
"Then we'll work it out together--the three of us. Just promise me you won't rush into anything, okay?"
Starsky thought about his friend's proposition for a moment and finally relaxed his stance. For the most part, Hutch usually had his best interests at heart, especially when it counted. And most of the time he was happy to have him as a sounding board for his problems, a calmer head in a storm--so to speak, even if he was a little on the pushy side a times. He put his hand on the taller man's shoulder and smiled.
"Okay, tell you what, big guy. I'm gonna do you a favor and take your advice, just this once."
"Glad to hear it."
"Oh, yeah, by the way…"
Hutch beamed at him. "What?"
He winked. "I wouldn't blame you if you're a little jealous."
They looked into each other's eyes and for that moment nothing else needed to be said. Hutch rewarded his partner with a dubious grin. Of course, Captain Kraft chose just that minute to come bursting into his office, breaking the intimacy of it. Both men looked over their shoulders at him. He stopped, wrinkled his brow at them, and then went on about his business. On his way to his desk, he opened up the white manila folder he held in his hand.
"Well, this is it, gentlemen. The results of the lab tests we've been waiting for. Hopefully the contents will tell us whether Mr. Colchetti's family is inexplicably ill fated or if he died at the hands of a party or parties unknown."
Both men straightened up in their chairs and took in a breath as they prepared to hear the results. Kraft pulled out the folder's contents and studied them for a moment or two before he spoke. He nodded his head thoughtfully. "Well, well, well. It looks like the two of you were right." He handed the folder to them. "See for yourself."
Hutch's reach was longer by an inch and he got to the folder before his partner. Starsky relegated himself to his chair and settled back to hear what was in it. He and Kraft watched and waited while the blond man slowly digested the contents. After he'd studied each entry, he divulged the results.
"Well, Colchetti did die of asphyxiation by drowning."
"Damn."
"Yeah. After he drank almost a cocktail glass full of cyanide for breakfast. That's strange because cyanide has a distinct almond order, I'm wondering why the M.E. didn't catch it at the scene."
Starsky sat back further in his chair. "He did say the glass was pretty clean when he swabbed it. Wow, cyanide." He took in a breath, and then blew it out. "That's some pretty heavy stuff."
"No kidding." Hutch handed the folder back to the captain. "What happens now?"
"Exactly what you two wanted from the start, a full-scale investigation, from the car accident to Colchetti's drowning. If your suspicious are correct, then somebody out there is after the Colchetti estate. We already know they're brazen enough to kill for it. Now we need to find out who they are, and quick. Is the source you mentioned earlier safe?"
Starsky sat up, very alert. "Yeah, she's safe."
Hutchinson looked over at him. "She is for now. But if whoever it is was willing to kill both parents, I think it's safe to say they're not going to bother thinking twice about eliminating the last remaining heir to the fortune."
Starsky eyes held a twinge of concern in them; he was still thinking about what the test results said. "What kind of a cold-hearted bastard would poison a guy and leave him to drown in his own Jacuzzi?" Uneasy, he braced both Adidas against the front of the captain's desk.
Kraft stuffed the autopsy report folder back into its envelope. "A mercenary might do it, he's not so emotionally involved in what's going on, he's just some guy who gets paid to kill folks while his gutless employer reaps the rewards, paying him only a fraction of what he himself stands to yield once it's over. The mercenary's got no major stake in the deal, so only has to do a clean kill and then he's off and gone to his next assignment."
Hutch rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger reflectively. "Well, the first thing we've got to figure out is who stands to gain the most from all this."
"How about the new wife?" Kraft offered. He sat back and stretched in his chair. "With the first wife out of the picture, she stands to make off with the whole thing. Including the insurance money. I heard from a reliable source that was pretty substantial."
"Good, good, but too obvious. Why would she take the chance? The police would suspect her first, then where would she be?"
"Right. And plus she was the one who called us. She even had the receipts from her shopping trip. Her purchases were dated and time stamped."
Starsky sucked his teeth. "So that let's her out… at least for now. Who else?"
Kraft dropped his head, and then looked up slowly. "There's the daughter, you did mention that there was some animosity about her father's remarriage."
Hutch shot a look over at his partner and he shook his head. "No way. This is way too big a deal for her to have anything to do with it. I'd bet my life on that."
Hutch glanced at the captain, then back at Starsky. "C'mon, Starsk. There's a remote possibility that Angel might be involved in this in some way. If she isn't in on it, then she knows something. As soon as she hit the door, I got this weird feeling about her, like there's more to her story then what she's been telling us. Haven't you noticed the way she latched on to you and hasn't let up since?"
"It could be my animal magnetism. But okay, for the sake of argument, let's say you're right--which you're not. What would be her motive for lyin' to us?"
Hutch shrugged. He couldn't think of anything that would make any sense. It was just one of those feelings he'd get every now and then. He'd see or hear something that didn't seem quite right, something that didn't fit logically into the pattern of things. And there it would sit, staring him in the face, plain as day, until he figured it out. Nine times out of ten, he did just that.
Kraft, sensing the tension between the two men, offered a truce. "All right, seems I've hit a sore spot with that one. Let's just drop it for now."
"No problem, Captain."
"Yeah, that's what I thought."
"It was just an idea, Starsky."
"Yeah, a bad one."
"Okay, okay, boys, that's enough, that's enough. Any other ideas before we close this one down for the afternoon?"
Starsky put up a finger. "Yeah, one more thing. Do you know the background on the current Mrs. Colchetti?"
"Sure do. Got it right here." Kraft pulled open a file drawer in his desk, rifled through it and pulled out a thin blue file folder. Opened it and read the contents carefully. "Ah yes, here it is. Mrs. Jessie Colchetti, maiden name Jessie Milner. Says here she worked as a salesgirl for a big name department store before she found herself Mr. Right."
Hutch put his hand on the captain's desk. "You said she worked as a salesgirl. You ever check out her full background?"
"Nope, had no reason to. Why?"
"Just plain curiosity. Does it give the name of the department store?"
"Warwicke's. But it went out of business about three years ago. You're thinking she has a reason to lie?"
"Don't know. But it's a possibility. I'm just curious to know how she and Colchetti happened to meet and strike up a relationship so quickly. At any rate, I think it's something we should follow up on."
"Well, all I can say is good luck in your search."
Starsky stood up and did a half-salute. "Thanks for that. See ya later, Cap."
The captain nodded and Hutch got up himself and went to the door, letting Starsky out ahead of him. The man bulldozed past him so quickly that the breeze he created rustled the blond's hair and foretold of the dressing down he was to get on the drive over. They never got that far.
Once they were on the street Starsky dropped his right hand onto Hutch's shoulder and stopping his forward momentum. "What the hell was that back there, huh?"
"What the hell was what?"
"That back there--that, Angel's got to be involved in some way and you had a feeling about it stuff. How come this is the first I'm hearin' about it?"
The blond fished the car key out of his pocket and sighed. "I don't know, maybe you're too close to see it, Starsky. It's understandable." He went around to the driver's side of the Dodge and got in. Starsky stood outside the car for a minute and then got in too.
"Yeah, I know it's understandable. But you know what really burns me?"
Hutch put the key in the ignition. "No, what?"
"You're supposed to be my best friend, how come you don't tell me about these things?"
He didn't have a quick answer for that.
**********
Penn State Mutual's personnel office was on the eighth floor of the main building and wasn't much different from the first floor except that the lighting was better and there were a few less people roaming the halls. When they got off the elevator, a counter loomed before them that was presumably set up for applicants to fill out applications. Behind that was a sliding glass window, which was now closed. Starsky went over to a bare wall, leaned against it and waited, while his partner went to work ferreting out a human being to talk to.
When he walked up to the window, he saw a woman sitting on the other side of the glass with her back to him. Her platinum blonde hair flowed past her shoulders and onto the back of the beige windowpane patterned suit she was wearing. He tapped on the glass and immediately went into his Prince Charming mode, his voice dripping with honey. "Pardon me, miss."
The woman turned round in her seat and looked at him, her face expressionless. He tried hard to mask the surprise that must have been evident on his face. She certainly wasn't what he'd been expecting to see. This woman was at least twenty years his senior, probably well past the age of succumbing to something as lightweight as the Hutchinson charm.
She got up and slid open the window. "Yes, how may I help you?
Hutch's mouth stood slightly agape. She also seemed to have some kind of a speech impediment that made the s's on her 'yes's' sound drawn out like a snake's hiss. He stole a glance at his partner, who simply shrugged and smiled, obviously amused at his partner's predicament. It took a millisecond for the blond man to regain his composure. He straightened up and smiled at the woman.
"Ah, ah, we'd like to ask you a few questions, Miss ah..."
"Casden. Jane Casden. I'm the manager here. What kind of questions? And who is this 'we' you're speaking of?"
Her personality was all ice and mothballs, not an ounce of warmth to speak of. Hutch pointed to where his partner was leaning and Starsky waved to them and smiled. "My partner and I… Um, we…" He showed her his badge. "We're detectives, and ah, well, we need some information on an employee we think might have worked here."
"And your names?"
"I'm Detective Hutchinson, that's Detective Starsky." He was still holding the badge against the glass.
"And this is official police business, you say?"
"Yes, ma'am."
She slipped on a pair of bifocals hanging from a chain around her neck and squinted the badge as she verified its authenticity. Hutch smiled uncomfortably as she took her time sizing them up, then she smiled, and that's when he noticed she was wearing dentures. That would explain the hissing, he thought.
"Okay, the two of you look legitimate enough. What's the name of the employee you're looking for?"
Hutch motioned for his partner to join him. "We're looking for anyone in your files with the last names of Milner or Colchetti." He spelled both names out for her.
Starsky was finished holding up the wall and strutted over to the counter. He nodded to the woman as he came over. She was still writing the names down on a slip of paper.
"Anything you can tell us would be great," Hutch added, watching her finish.
She looked the surnames over carefully, then pulled the glasses off her face and let it hang around her neck. The two of them didn't know if she thought better with them off and they weren't going to ask.
"Well, I've been working here a while and these names don't ring any bells. Would you like me to check the files?"
"Would you please? That'd be great," Hutch answered.
When she left both men consulted each other wordlessly; Hutch's face was a huge question mark and Starsky's didn't offer an answer. They shrugged and waited for the woman to return. After about a minute, she came back with two cards in her hand.
"Here's what I have." She handed one card to Hutch and the other to Starsky. "These are the only two people in the files with those last names."
Hutch read his aloud. "A. Colchetti. Position, temporary assistant, date of termination, August 10, 1978."
Starsky then read his. "Sharon Milner. Position, senior secretary, termination date was fall of '78."
They switched cards and studied each one. Hutch tapped the one he was holding against the surface of the counter, thinking. "Hmm, okay, the last names right, but the first name's not a match on the one. Would you happen to know who these two ladies worked for when they were here, I mean offhand?"
"Not offhand. I could look that up, though." She stood there but didn't move.
Starsky leaned over the counter and settled a fist under his chin. "Would you do that please? We'd appreciate it." She nodded and went back to the file room. He raised his eyebrows at his partner and they waited. After another few more minutes, she returned.
"That one name, A. Colchetti, she was a summer intern here under Mr. Bruce Emerson's supervision for the months June through to August."
"Is there a first name on that one?"
"No, there's only a first initial on both the card and the application."
"Okay."
"The other woman, Milner, worked for Mr. Emerson as well."
Starsky rose up off his fist. "This Emerson guy, what does he do here?"
"Why, um, Mr. Emerson is one of our best insurance agents. He writes up some of the major policies for our company."
"Hmm. Do you mind if we keep these?" Hutch motioned with the file card.
She retrieved the cards from them artfully. "I'm sorry I can't let you do that. The cards and the termination forms are company property. But I can make photostats of them for you." She pointed towards a large mimeograph machine.
"That'd be fine. Oh, and ah, one more thing, please."
She stopped in mid-turn. "Yes?"
Starsky finished out his partner's request. "Where would we find Mr. Emerson?"
"Oh, he has the corner office on the fifth floor. His secretary's name is Bea. She'll be able to help you. I'll just be making these up for you now."
Both men nodded and waited. When she was finished, she handed the still warm copies of the cards and the termination papers to the blond man and waited for more instruction.
Hutch gave her a boyish parting grin. "Thank you, Miss Casden. You've been very helpful."
Starsky reached over and impulsively tweaked her cheek. "Yeah, thanks a lot, sweetheart."
The woman reluctantly smiled as they disappeared into a waiting elevator. Hutch rolled the copies in his hand into spiral form and banged them lightly against his palm. "Ah, the Hutchinson charm and the Starsky warmth, they haven't failed us yet."
"Yep. Puts a smile on even the crankiest face," Starsky said to him as the doors closed.
"She was actually kind of cute with a smile on her face. Makes me wonder what a good dental plan could for her," Hutch replied.
Starsky smiled. "Good old Hutch, ever the romantic."
********
Bruce Emerson's office was exactly where the personnel manager had said it would be, on the fifth floor. The elevator opened out into a large office space and his actual office was behind a big wooden oak door. The secretary's nameplate read BEA FLORADAN, SR. SECRETARY. When they stepped off the elevator she was talking on the phone with someone. They stood out of sight for a moment and listened to her conversation.
"Oh, he's a horrible man. I've never worked for such a beast in my whole life. He's cruel and inhuman and I'm going to tell him so one day…oh, I don't know when…after I work up some courage I suppose, then…I'll…" The two of them moved forward and she looked up and stopped taking in mid-sentence. "Ah, Velma, I'll have to call you back, it looks like we have some visitors…okay, goodbye."
She scratched the back of her head as she hung up the phone and gave them a half-smile, and then looked up at them, clasping her hands in front of her. "Hello, may I help you?"
After hearing the content of her phone conversation, Miss Floradan appeared to have only a little better temperament than the manager in the Personnel office, but not much better. She was a challenge, but with a dose of the Hutchinson charm and Starsky's disarming friendliness, they hoped to win her over to their side. Starsky pulled his badge and flashed it at her. "Hi there, we're here to speak with Mr. Emerson. Is he in right now?"
"Do you have an appointment?"
"No. But it's very important that we speak to him." Starsky gave her a sly wink. "I'm Detective Starsky, and this is Detective Hutchinson."
She smiled. "Well, Mr. Emerson has stepped out for a moment, but he'll be returning shortly, if you'd like to wait."
"We would, thank you. Would you mind if we asked you a few questions about him in the meantime?"
"Why, is he in trouble?" She looked as if she wished he were.
"No, he's not. They're just some general questions. Do you mind?"
"No, go ahead. I'll tell you what I can."
"Fair enough. How long have you worked for Emerson? And how is he to work for?"
"Well, I haven't worked for him for a very long time. But if I had to describe working for him, I'd say he's the dictator-type. He likes bullying people around to get his way, and then showing off his acquisitions after he's stepped all over someone to get them. He really doesn't much care how he acquires things."
Hutch took notes. "Humph. So he likes expensive cars, clothes? Likes to wine and dine people? That kind of thing?"
"Yes. I haven't figured out how he does it yet, he really doesn't have that kind of a salary to draw from."
"So, anyone in particular he goes around with that you can recall?"
"Well," she whispered conspiratorially, as if she were sharing a tawdry secret with them. "He's been known to bed his share of women around here. It doesn't take much to turn him on. If they're pretty and shallow, they're his type. He's one of those big, brawny guys, long on muscle, short on intellect, you know? Thank God I'm not into those types. In fact, he used to go out with the woman that I replaced. I don't remember her name though, she was his secretary before I got here."
Both men looked at each other, surprised by her candor. Hutch folded his notepad closed. "Well, thank you, Miss Floradan. You've been very helpful. We'll let you know if there's anything else."
"No problem, officers. I'm glad I could help. Like I said, he should be coming back pretty soon. You can wait over there if you like." She pointed to a row of chairs to their right.
"Thank you," they said in unison.
Both took seats facing away from Emerson's office door, making sure to position themselves directly in front of the elevator where they guessed he would arrive. Starsky checked his watch and eyeballed the proximity of the elevator doors to any exits. Nothing was close by. The last thing they wanted him doing was slipping past them once he got there. The curly-haired detective slid down in his seat and closed his eyes, while Hutch drummed a tune on the wooden portion of the chair he was occupying. After about a fifteen-minute wait, Emerson emerged from the elevator, briefcase in hand, stopping at the secretary's desk to check for messages, he was oblivious to the two visitors waiting for him.
"Any messages, Bea?"
"No. But you have visitors." She pointed out the two detectives, who immediately perked up in their seats.
He turned around. "Oh, okay."
She looked down at her note pad to remind herself of their names. "Detectives Starsky and Hutchinson. They're investigating a case. They'd like to ask you some questions." She seemed to delight in filling him in on the last part.
Hutch got up first and extended his hand. "Mr. Emerson, I'm Detective Hutchinson, and this is my partner, Detective Starsky."
Emerson shook the blond's hand and then the brunet's when he offered it. "To what do I owe this pleasure, officers?" From his Armani suit to his alligator shoes, he was smooth. He took off his hat and sunglasses and waited for one of them to answer.
Starsky clasped his hands behind his back, cut a glance at the man's curious secretary and cleared his throat. "Do you mind if we take this into your office? It's kind of a private matter."
Emerson turned to his secretary and she looked at him levelly. No help there. "Ah, well, I suppose so. Will this take very long?"
"Not at all, sir. We just want to ask you some questions about a couple of former employees of yours."
"All right. Follow me."
Emerson led them to the door of his office, shifted his briefcase under his arm long enough to locate the door key from his trouser pocket and unlocked it. Starsky anticipated his need for help in getting in the door and leaned forward to open it, letting him precede them inside. The businessman set his briefcase on his desk and closed the door. He turned to them and took in a quiet, regular breath. "Okay, gentlemen. I'm all yours. Please, sit."
He waited for them to ease into the client chairs in front of his desk and then went around his desk to sit down, he leaned his back against his chair and rested his elbows on the armrests. "What's this all about?"
Hutch started first. "Mr. Emerson, my partner and I are investigating two deaths, a husband and wife named Elaine and John Colchetti. We have it on good authority that someone with the last name of Milner worked here as a secretary under your supervision, and we think there might be a connection."
"Yes, she worked for me. What of it?"
"Well, before Mr. Colchetti, er, departed this life, he married a woman named Jessie Milner. We were checking out her background and as it happens, it turns out that her maiden name and the name of your last secretary are a match."
Emerson bowed his head and steepled his fingers in front of him. "I really doubt that we're talking about the same person here. The fact that their names match is probably purely coincidental. What does this woman look like that you're looking for?"
Starsky leaned forward. "She's about five nine, red hair, nice figure, could pass for a model."
Emerson shook his head. "No, no way. Sharon Milner could never pass for a model. She was…ah…pretty in a plain way, if you know what I mean."
"Yeah, okay. So what about this student you had working for you as a temporary assistant around the same time that Miss Milner worked here? You let her go. Why?"
Emerson smiled broadly, his calm demeanor slipping a little. "I don't think that's any of your business."
Starsky glared at him. "Look, we can make it our business. We could have the local police come through here and have them go over your books, check out your financial situation and find out that way, but we'd rather not go that route. Explaining things to them won't be half as pleasant as explaining them to us now, and it won't be quite as private. So I suggest that you tell us what we want to know."
Emerson lifted his head. "Okay, okay. Since you put it that way, I guess I'll have to come clean. I was seeing her, but it was mostly platonic. I mean, we'd kiss and whatever, but it was never more serious than that. I should have known trouble was coming because it seemed like the more things got out of hand at home, the more she'd come to me for consolation. She thought I was serious about her and she went and got hysterical on me one day, told me that her mother was killed in a car accident and that she was pregnant. Swore the child was mine. I told her there was no way I could be the father because we hadn't done anything, but she didn't believe me and she was going to make it difficult, so I had to let her go."
"So you let her go for her own good, huh?"
"Yeah. I'm very big hearted that way."
"Just an all-around swell guy."
"That's me. So, is that it? Have I answered all your questions?"
"In a minute, there's one more thing." Starsky said, knowing the answer to the question but dreading it at the same time. "What was her first name? There's only a first initial in the files."
"I think it was Angelina…no…Angela."
Starsky did a subtle double take. "Angela? You're sure on that?"
"Yeah, positive. Why? You know her?"
"No-I…"
Realizing that his partner's reaction might give away the extent of his involvement with the case or worse, Hutchinson quickly stood up and dropped their calling card on the top of Emerson's desk. He hustled his partner out of his chair and tried to rush him out of the office door. "That's it for now, Mr. Emerson. If you remember anything else, please give us a call. The numbers are on the card."
Emerson nodded twice but his eyes were on the darker man, the cop who was giving him the eagle eye. Starsky was standing up, but he wasn't making any effort to leave. Hutch could see the gears turning in his partner's head, he was putting two and two together and he didn't like what they was adding up to. He put his hand on his friend's stiffened arm and pulled. "C'mon, Starsk, let's go."
He pulled his partner towards the door by his left arm and ushered him out of the office. When the elevator arrived, he waved goodbye to Emerson's secretary and they headed out of the building. When they were on the street, Starsky shook himself loose from Hutch's grasp; he was ready to go off like a Roman candle.
"What'd you do that for this time?"
"I didn't want you to make a scene back there."
"I wasn't gonna make a scene. I just wanted to ask the guy some more questions about the intern." He laughed nervously. "Must be some kinda coincidence, huh?"
"I don't think so, Starsk."
"That's what I was thought you were gonna say."
"Right now we need to concentrate on Jessie Colchetti and whether there's any connection between her and Sharon Milner. Despite what Emerson says, I think there's more going on here than just a simple coincidence. Whatever's going on with your fiancée-to-be is a private matter between you and her, let's keep it that way."
"I guess you're right."
"I know I am. Let's go."
"Where're we goin'?"
"To see the widow Colchetti."
********
Emerson got up and locked his office door and was on the phone to Sharon Colchetti as soon as he saw the two detectives leave the building. As usual, the butler, Charles, answered the phone on the second ring. There was a ten-seconds too long pause before she came on the line.
"Hello?"
Her voice was calm and relaxed; she sounded rested and in much better spirits than she'd been with him at his place. He liked the sound and wanted to hear it that way more often.
"Sharon, this is Bruce. Are you alone?"
She looked around the room and saw no one. "Yes, I'm alone. What is it? If it's about the estate, it's going to be a little while before all the paper work's finalized."
"I know, but this is something else. I wanted to warn you about the two cops who came to see me today. One's a brunet, the other's blond. They were asking about Sharon Milner's employment history, the good thing is they don't' seem to have a clue who they're looking for."
"So they're probably on their way here to talk to me now."
"Probably. So this is what I need you to do. Don't act nervous or jumpy, and don't take a drink. Just tell them you never worked here before in your life. The background trail I created for your alias should hold up. There's no way for them to prove or disprove where you worked before."
"Okay, all right. Did they ask about Angela?"
"Yes."
"Damn. What if they ask me about her? They're sure to find out something if they dig long enough and deep enough. And when they do, they're going to find out she was a minor and that you and she were sleeping together."
"That's not going to happen, Sharon. I've told them my side of the story, that she's a hysterical young woman in trouble who's just lost her mother within the span of a month and now she's grasping at straws. I think they bought it. Don't worry. Everything's going be all right."
Sharon sighed. "You keep saying that, Bruce. But so far, things haven't been. What if they start believing her story?"
"That just means instead of having my contact take care of things--like he did with her parents--I'll have to care of it." He wrung his hands. "Hell, all she had to do was get lost with the kid and things would have been all right, at least till we were settled in."
"What are you going to do now?"
"You just stay there and be calm and answer their questions and I'll call you when it's all over. What'd you say that detective's name was that came over and talked to you that day?"
"Star…Starksy, I think. I don't know. It was something like that."
"Hold on." Emerson set the receiver down and found the business card that the blond detective had left on his desk. He picked it up and read it. One of the names on it was Detective David M. Starsky, the cop who'd done the questioning, and beside his name was the other one, named Hutchinson. Written in pen was a separate phone number. He smiled and put the receiver back to his ear. "So Angie brought this detective with her the day he came to the house, right?"
"Yes, they seemed to know each other. Why?"
"Nothing. Nothing. I'll be in touch." He hung up the phone.
Sharon hung up too and headed straight for the bar. Poured herself a drink. She took vodka straight, no ice. She shook as she drunk it down, hoping that it would steady her nerves before the cops got there. The stronger the better, she thought, and poured herself one more, despite Bruce's warning.
**********
Emerson dialed the number on the business card then sat and listened to the phone ring. In a few seconds the ringing stopped and a female voice came on the line. He heard her say hello, and paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, then he spoke. "Hello, this is Bruce Emerson. I'd like to speak to detectives Starsky and Hutchinson."
"I'm sorry, they aren't here right now. Would you like to leave a message?"
"Um, well, ah, they came by to see me today to ask me some questions today, and I just got hold of some more information that I think might be of interest to them. They said to call, so I did. I really think it might be important. Do you think they'd mind if I came down and waited for them?"
"Ah, well, I don't know about that."
"I wouldn't ask, except that I'm leaving town for two weeks on business and…"
"Oh." The woman checked at her watch. "I guess it won't hurt to give you the address and get your phone number. I'll have them give you a call when they get back and you can come on down then. Do you have a pen handy?"
"One second." Emerson picked up a pen, found a slip of paper to write on and said, "Ready." When she had given him the address; he thanked her and hung up. He felt in the breast pocket of his suit coat and found a key, using it to open the top drawer of his desk. The only one he kept locked. He pulled a small caliber pistol from inside; looked it over and wiped it clean with a cloth that had lain in the drawer with it. After hefting it and checking the chamber, he loaded it, and put it in his coat. After letting his secretary know that he'd be out for a while, he left the building.
**********
Detectives Starsky and Hutchinson arrived at the front gate of the Colchetti estate and were let inside by the butler. He opened the main door to let them in. He did not look thrilled to see them.
"You're here to see Mrs. Colchetti, correct?"
Hutch showed him his badge. "Yes, we are. Could you tell her we're here, please?"
"Of course, right away, gentlemen. Follow me."
He led them through the mansion's expanse until they came to the door of a small room; they went down several carpeted steps and ended up in what looked like a game room of sorts. There was a pool table, a big screen television, a full bar and a dartboard game secured to a paneled wood wall. The room seemed totally out of step with the rest of the place and the bewilderment on the detective's faces showed. The butler noticed their curious looks and addressed them. "You're probably wondering about this room. This was Mr. Colchetti's favorite spot. When he wanted to enjoy the simpler things of life, he came here. It gave him much pleasure." They nodded. "Please make yourselves comfortable. Mrs. Colchetti will be with you shortly."
"Thank you, Charles," they said.
After the butler left, Hutch walked over to the dartboard and pulled off some darts that were stuck in the middle of the bull's eye portion of board. He stood back a good length from the toe line, aimed and threw a couple of practice throws at it. Starsky took a seat on one of the barstools, braced his elbows behind him on the bar and tucked his feet in behind the foot rail to watch him. He marveled as each dart his partner threw landed in a spot scoring higher than the last.
"Hey, you think you could do that with your eyes closed?" he asked him.
Hutch poised to throw the last dart, his face the portrait of fierce concentration; he answered his partner without looking. "Don't know, Starsk. I've never tried." He tossed the dart in his fingers and watched it land directly in the middle of the bull's eye. He smiled, moved forward and pulled the thrown darts out of the board to start again.
"I'll bet I could do it."
"Do what?"
"Play with my eyes closed."
Hutch laughed. "That's a sucker bet, Starsky. And I'd be a fool to take it. Besides, if you lost, it might screw with your self-esteem, hurt your pride, and I wouldn't want to be responsible for letting that happen."
"Yeah, sure, you're just afraid that I might beat ya."
Hutch turned around and looked at him, poising one of the darts at him as if he were about to throw it. "Don't tempt me, Starsky. I might just try some practice tosses on you."
"Yeah, whatever."
Just then Mrs. Colchetti walked into the room. She was wearing a short-sleeved white blouse with wide lapels over a pair of khaki slacks; on her feet were sand-colored espadrilles. In casual wear, she was still a knockout. Both men stopped what they were doing when she came into the room. Hutch jammed the darts that were still in his hand back into the board in one motion and his partner extricated himself from his seat. He went over to greet her as she approached.
She offered her hand to the darker man. "Hello. Nice to see you again, detective."
"Nice to see you again. Ah, this here is my partner, Detective Hutchinson."
Hutchinson shook her hand; appearing somewhat mesmerized by her beauty, he smiled effusively. "Glad to meet you, Mrs. Colchetti, we were both sorry to hear about your husband."
"Thank you." She released her hand and motioned to a fabric sofa. "Won't you both sit down?"
"Sure."
When they were seated, she smiled at them and they smiled at her. There was an uncomfortable pall in the room. She folded her arms across her body and grabbed her forearms, rubbing her palms against them, her face nearly pale. She took a deep breath. "Are either of you guys cold?"
Both men shook their heads. No. The room felt fine.
"Well, I'm freezing. Do you mind if I make myself a drink?"
"Not at all," Hutch answered. But it looked to him like she'd already had a couple before they'd gotten there. "Go ahead."
After she made the drink and took a couple of sips, she resituated herself between them on the couch. The warmth of the liquor seemed to have the desired affect and she turned towards both men, the color returning to her face. "Oh my, that's better," she said breathlessly. "I don't come here too often. It's always a little chilly. Ah, you said on the phone that you had some questions for me?"
Hutch smiled, his head slightly bowed. "Yes, there are a couple of areas we need clarification on and we think you might be able to help us."
"If I can."
"I take it you've already gotten a call from the medical examiner and he told you about his findings?"
"Yes. They told me he'd been poisoned." She changed her position on the couch slightly and looked straight into his eyes.
"Any idea why anyone would want to kill him?"
"My husband had a large estate. There are probably a lot of people out there who might have liked to get at his money." She sipped the drink again, holding the glass loosely in her hands.
Hutch leaned toward her. "I think you should know that we did some checking into your background, just as a matter of routine."
Her forehead wrinkled, she didn't have a cigarette, but she looked like she needed one. "The spouse is always the first one the cops suspect, isn't that right?"
"That's true."
She nodded knowingly.
"Can you tell us anything about your job at Warwicke's?"
"Um, I worked there for a couple of years, in the cosmetics department. Did some modeling. Then it went out of business, only a few years ago I believe."
"Is that how you met Mr. Colchetti?"
"Um, yes, he would come into the department store regularly, to buy some things. We just hit it off."
"Did you know that he was a married at the time?"
"Yes, he told me he was…after a while. But he also hinted that the marriage was on the rocks."
"So he gave you the go ahead to make a move?"
"Yes."
"During the course of our investigation, we spoke to an insurance agent named Bruce Emerson at Penn State Mutual earlier today. And in addition to being the insurance company holding the life insurance policies on the family, it also happens to be the insurance company that insured the late Mrs. Colchetti's BMW. The car she was driving the day of her accident. Were you aware of that?"
She looked a little confused, but then said, "Yes, John told me after we were married that we should get a policy written in my name with that company."
"Um hum. We had a file check done by their personnel office, one on the last name Colchetti and the other on the last name Milner; they came up with two: A. Colchetti and Sharon Milner. After we found out that they both worked with Emerson, we went to his office and asked him about them. He told us, rather reluctantly, that A. Colchetti was Angela Colchetti, your husband's daughter. When we asked him about Sharon Milner, he gave us a description of the woman who worked for him. He concluded that the fact that your maiden name and her last name were the same was a coincidence, and that we couldn't possibly be talking about the same two women. In our line of work, coincidences like that don't happen very often, so when one does, of course, we have to check it out."
"I understand."
"Okay, so here's what we know so far: one, that you were employed at Warwicke's department store until it closed down a few years ago and two, that is how you happened to become acquainted with John Colchetti, eventually coming to marry him. Unfortunately, we're unable to verify that information because the store has been closed since you last worked there. Thirdly, we know that Bruce Emerson had a close relationship with Colchetti's daughter while she was working at his office and that he fired her because she suspected that he was the father of her unborn child. And fourth, we know from speaking with his secretary that he has a reputation of bedding the ladies, particularly secretaries, and that he likes to live beyond his means. What we still don't know is what you and a secretary named Sharon Milner have in common? Can you tell us anything?"
She didn't answer immediately, but her slow reaction alerted the blond to the possibility that his question had touched on a sensitive area. If they were to prod a little deeper, there was no telling what they might find out. Starsky was on edge; he got up and began to pace on the other side of the couch.
She fussed nervously with the bangs on her forehead as they strayed into her eyes. "I--I don't know what you mean."
The darker cop's voice seemed to come from another part of the room, even though he was just a few feet away. "How is it that you and Sharon Milner have the same last name?"
"We're sisters," she muttered.
"Ah. Nope. We already thought of that. It might interest you to know that a background check on a person also includes their birth records, and the ones we found on Sharon Milner indicate that she was an only child."
She lowered her eyes. "Th-that's not possible."
"Sure it is. And you know what I think? I think, after you found out that Colchetti was a lonely guy with lotsa dough to play around with, you rigged a plan to get rid of his wife and get the money all for yourself."
"That's not true, that's not how it happened!"
The detective moved closer to the sofa and brought both of his hands down hard on the back of it. "Then tell us what did happen? Was it luck that led you to him? Or did you plan it?"
"I swear I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't even know about John until Bruce introduced me to him."
Both men looked at each other. Aha. A revelation.
Starsky continued. "So it was Emerson. I knew there was something rotten about him. Why don't you tell us about it?"
"If I do, then it's all over."
"It's already over. The captain of detectives has medical proof that Mr. Colchetti's death wasn't an accident. If we look hard enough, I'm pretty sure we'll find out his wife's wasn't either. That would mean that someone planned to kill them and wanted the police to think their deaths were accidents. We think you know who it is." Hutch said bluntly.
She shook her head.
Starsky moved in closer. "If you don't tell us now and we find out later on that you knew, but didn't tell us, we'll have to take you down as an accessory to double murder. And I'd sure hate to see someone with your looks and personality doing hard time. It's not very pretty."
She took a long hard look at both men and mentally weighed her options. "What will happen to me if I tell you what I know?"
"We'll put a good word in with the judge. If you're lucky, he may be lenient with the sentencing. But we can't promise anything."
She thought about it another moment, and then let out a sigh. "All right, I'll tell you what I know." She finished what was left of the glass in her hand and set it on the coffee table. A sorrowful noise escaped her lips. Starsky was sitting on the back of the sofa, staring at the right side of her face, watching her collect herself. Hutch readied his notepad and she glanced at him.
"Okay. You got a lot of paper on that pad? This is a long story."
"That's okay, I know shorthand," he said.
"Okay, first of all, you were right about Sharon and me not being sisters. My birth name is Sharon Jessica Milner. I'd been out of work for a good three months in a row when I got a call to come down to Penn State for an interview. I didn't look the way I do now, back then I was a mousy, dowdy brunette. I had the right skills and the right background, so they hired me. When my probation period was over, I was offered a chance for a promotion, which I accepted. I was still playing catch up, you know, struggling to pay my rent; my car was in the shop, you know how it goes."
Both men nodded.
"Eventually, they reassigned me to the sales department as a personal secretary in the life policies section, that's when I started working for Bruce. It was strictly business for a long time; I guess he was feeling me out. After I'd been there for about six months, I noticed him giving me the eye more and more. I was surprised and kind of thrilled at the same time, that a guy who looks like he does and dresses like he does, was actually interested in plain little old me, I guess it just about knocked my socks off. So we went out a few times, secretly. Then after a while, we didn't even bother trying to hide it. But you know how it is; soon enough the word gets round and before we knew it there were other women, other secretaries, coming and telling me about his past. So, of course, I confronted him with what I knew and surprisingly he admitted it. He promised me that that part of his life was over, in the past. And I was naïve enough to believe him." She shrugged.
"Did he do what he promised?" Hutch asked.
She nodded. "That and much more. He once told me that he saw more beauty in me than he'd ever seen in any woman before in his life. He wanted to bring that beauty out. He said that I was special, and that he wanted more for me. It was the first time anyone had every said anything like that to me."
"Go on," Starsky pressed.
"So anyway, it wasn't so long after that that John starting coming by the office with his lawyers. It must have been right after he'd gotten the inheritance, because he told Bruce that he wanted to open up life insurance policies for himself and his wife and daughter. The policies were very lucrative and Bruce knew then that he had his man." She paused.
"Keep going."
"About a year after John requested the policies, he came by to see Bruce to finalize some of the papers, and during the course of their conversation, he must have mentioned that his daughter was looking for a summer job. That was when Bruce found out that Angela was John's daughter. That's when he got the idea to hire her. He started seeing her after that, not before."
"What a prince," Starsky said, and Hutch shushed him.
"He just figured it would be a good way to find out if there was a way to get at the money. So he hired her as an intern to help around the office. She'd just gotten out of school for the summer and she seemed to be a perfect source of information. You know, good looking, book smart, but impressionable, and Bruce used that to serve his purpose. All the while he promised me that he was still faithful, and that he was only doing this for us. He certainly seemed to be getting the information he needed, so I never questioned his methods." She stopped and looked at them both.
"A regular wolf in sheep's clothing," Starsky grumbled. Hutch gave him a pointed look.
She stared ahead and ventured on. "So I looked the other way while he seduced John's daughter, because it was the way he learned about their family and their weaknesses. He knew all the ins and outs of the business and had the connections, and those connections were the key to getting at the money."
"Did you know beforehand what he had planned for Colchetti and his wife?" Hutch asked.
"No. Not until after it happened. He wanted me to have as little knowledge as possible of what was going to happen in case I was ever suspected."
"So the less you knew, the less you could tell the police," Starsky said.
"Right." She crossed and uncrossed her legs at the ankles, folded and refolded her hands. "After a while, the casual thing with John's daughter got more serious. He had her so comfortable with him that she was confiding all her deepest, most private thoughts to him. And about two months into it, she came to see him, unannounced and out of the blue, goes into his office and closes the door. She's in there for a half an hour with the door closed. When she comes out, she's in tears, and after she's gone, I ask him what happened. He tells me she told him she's in the family way. He says he doesn't believe the child is his, and that it's not possible for them to continue seeing each other."
Came the reply: "What a peach of a guy."
Hutch ignored his partner's comments from then on.
"So he let her go with the explanation that it wouldn't look good for him to let her stay on considering her condition. And with things already shaky with her parents, him firing her was just the last straw I guess."
Hutch tapped his pencil on the notepad. "So when he didn't need her for information anymore, he dumped her. How'd you get involved?"
"By then, Bruce had already enough background on the family, and he knew what their weaknesses were, it was very easy to play on them. He knew that John was disinterested in his wife, so he sent me to a hairdresser, brought me the right clothes, we worked on my diction and carriage and we had the woman you see before you today, Jessie Milner. After I was comfortable with my new persona, he sent me out to the estate to start working on John. Which was easy, because John was already open to the idea of a relationship that existed outside of his marriage. Of course, after I came into the picture, it made life a little more complicated for his wife and his daughter. Then the car accident happened, and his daughter ran away shortly after we got married."
Hutch put up his hand, staring at his notepad. "Okay, wait a minute. Something doesn't add up. When did she tell Emerson that she was expecting?"
She thought about it for a moment. "It must have been about four months ago."
Hutch turned to Starsky, frowning. "You said it was a summer internship. Was that high school or college?"
"High school. I think John told me that Angie was born August of sixty-one. So that would make her about seventeen or so."
A mask of apprehension swept over Starsky's face. "Are you sure about that? I was under the impression that she was twenty-one, maybe twenty at the youngest."
"No, she's just a girl. And Bruce knew that, too. If John had gotten hold of that information he would have had him on a statutory rape charge for sure. The way it was, it was just her word against his about the affair and the baby."
Both men shook their heads.
"I don't believe this guy," Starsky muttered.
"Okay, you know Emerson," the blond detective said after closing the notepad. "What's he capable of?"
"I think he'd do just about anything if he felt he had to. It costs him a lot of money to live the way he does, and I know for a fact that there are some dangerous men out there that he owes a lot of money to. That was part of the reason he needed to make this happen so desperately. The last thing he said before you two got here was that he was going to have to take care of the last detail of the plan himself. I know he's going to do something awful."
Both men pointed at each other at the same time, but it was Starsky who got the words out. "Hutch. You left him the card with Frankie's number on it."
"Damn." Hutch shot up from the couch. "I need to use your phone."
"Sure, go ahead, it's over there." She pointed to a phone set behind the bar.
Starsky rose from the sofa and put his hand on her arm. "You're gonna have to come with us, you know that, right?"
"Yes, I know."
Hutch picked up the receiver and anxiously dialed Frankie's number, but all he got for his trouble was a steady beeping on the line. "Busy," he announced to Starsky. "I'm gonna call Kraft." His partner nodded and he broke the connection and redialed, waiting for someone at the station to answer, and someone did. It was the dispatch operator. "Hello, this is Detective Kenneth Hutchinson, Captain Kraft please…okay." There was a brief pause before the captain came on the line. "This is Hutchinson, Captain. Starsky and I have a potential problem going down and I think we're going to need some major back up at the house where we're staying. You know how to get there? Okay…yes…we'll meet you there…okay, thanks." He hung up, stuffed the notepad into his breast pocket and fell in step with his partner and the woman as they headed for the door.
"Am I under arrest?" she asked.
"For now, no. If Emerson does what we think he will, you might be able to help us talk to him."
She nodded solemnly. As if summoned, Charles appeared at top of the stairs. "Madam, would you be needing any assistance?" he asked, looking grave.
They stopped at the door and she faced him, then looked at both detectives. "No, Charles. Someone will…um, no…I guess not. Thank you."
The butler frowned and followed after the trio as they left the game room and went up to the main entrance. The two detectives led the woman outside and put her into the back of the Dodge. The butler watched them until they drove away, then shrugged and closed the door.