3. Veritas et fortitudo

I looked at Senator Callahan like he was someone I’d never seen before. I had read his autobiography, seen multiple pictures of him in his book, on billboards, and newspapers, but this man resembled Mr. Callahan in name alone.

“Mr. Callahan, Gregory Morrison.” I said, extending my hand in greeting.

He eagerly reciprocated, ‘Please, call me Sean.” He had a less than subtle Irish accent, one I presume he’s worked on hiding in his political career. Micks weren’t exactly well liked.

I looked at my guide, “Mister…uh, I never caught your name.”

The green man looked like he was plotting to jump me when we were alone, but he crossed his arms low on his body, took a wide stance and said, “Virgil.”

“Mr. Virgil, I do appreciate your being my guide, but the conversation I need to have with the senator here is a sensitive issue that doesn’t concern you. So, if you wouldn’t mind stepping out in the hall. Or go have dinner or something. Either way, I believe the Senator knows how to get in touch with you when it’s time for me to leave.”

Virgil looked at me, then at Callahan with resignation. He rolled his eyes in a I don’t get paid enough for this kind of look, and said “You got twenty minutes.”

“Thanks, Virg.” I replied.

The door closed leaving nothing but the look of the gray inside of the door and the glimmer of the spyglass reflecting the internal lights.

The suite was large. From where I was standing, there were at least four bedrooms, two full bathrooms, and a kitchen bigger than my own apartment above Sammy’s. The air smelled like vanilla and cinnamon. The lights were dimmed and a window that spanned the entirety of the outside wall was exposed to the evening lights of the outside world in a fantastic panorama. Gentle music was playing just below the noise level of conversation.

Sean Callahan said to me, “So, what’s this about, Detective? Lieutenant Delaney said you had news about Jessica?”

I asked Callahan, but this time in my normal voice, “Sean, would it be a bother if we sat?” My eyes immediately spotted the L-shaped couch that sat in the sunken den of the massive suite.

Callahan nodded quickly, guiding me with his arm to the couches and chairs.

Once sat, I took my hat off, opened my jacket, and studied Callahan’s face. He looked genuinely concerned about his wife’s disappearance. His blonde hair was cut perfectly, the kind of style you’d find on a politician. He wore a dress shirt, but being in his house, the top few buttons were undone showing little sprigs of chest hair underneath. Two glasses sat on the coffee table in front of us. A glass of red wine, and a glass of a brown liquor, neat.

I took inventory of the facts. Jessica was found in an evening dress, clearly meant for a galla or some kind of big social event. The kind of thing that would’ve had a lot of people, and not just a hot date with ole Seany boy. So, how is it that her husband lost track of her? Would she not have had protective detail with her? How is it that, with all his resources, there wasn’t a search party wholly dedicated to finding her, at least to cover his own ass?

I began my interrogation with transparency, “Sean, let me start off by saying I’m not Detective Morrison.”

A look of surprise and then worry slapped Callahan across the face. “Uh, ok. Who are you?”

“My name is Mercury Jones. I’m a private detective on consultation from the CPPD to investigate the murder of your wife, Jessica Callahan.” I said matter-of-factly.

All the blood in Callahan’s face packed its bags and headed south to his stomach. He looked down, eyes darting back and forth in rapid succession, not knowing which thought to hold onto first.

He looked up, tears welling his eyes, “Where did you find her? How did she die?” His lip quivered violently, desperation haunting his eyes.

“She was found in The Delaware Crater. We’re not entirely sure of the specific cause of her death, but we believe that poison was involved.” I said.

Callahan leaned over, his head in his hands now, “Oh God! Jessica!” His breathing became erratic, his hands flattening his hair back and down.

“Sean…” I began.

“Who did this?! Who bloody did this?” His face was red with malice. Full of blood he now demanded.

I kept my breathing steady, bedding down my instincts to jump in on the excitement in his voice. “Mr. Callahan, we don’t have a real person yet. It’s not even been twenty-four hours since her body was found, and probably not even that long since she died. So, please let me ask you some clarifying questions, and then we can discuss what we know so far. Does that sound fair to you?”

Callahan’s breathing slowly relaxed. He holstered his bloodlust and sat back in a less aggressive posture. “Yes, Mr. Jones. Whatever you need.”

“What were you and Mrs. Callahan doing before she died?” I asked.

“We were attending a fundraising event for increasing budgetary spending towards small business protection. Thousands of people were in attendance who can testify to my being there with her.”

“I believe you. Understand, Mr. Callahan, no one is on trial here. You being the widower obviously makes sense that law enforcement would initially suspect you of killing your wife. That’s just how these things go. But, I don’t have any reason as of yet to suspect you.”

Mr. Callahan wiped tears from his eyes and nodded his head in understanding.

“When was the last time you remember seeing your wife?”

“We were finishing up dinner. I was getting ready to make my presentation when she got called away. She didn’t give me any details, but simply said she’d catch up to me later, gave me a kiss on the cheek and wished me luck.”

“Did you see who relayed the message to her?”

“It was her assistant, Julia. Julia Smith.”

“Does Julia live near here?”

“No. She lives in Old Illinois near 40th avenue. The building is called The Daffodil.”

“Were there any active threats on Jessica’s life that you were aware of?” I asked.

Callahan laughed, “Why, of course! She was probably the biggest thorn in the side of the Gabridone crime family. She cost him a fortune in revenue, shutting down his rackets and bolstering the confidence of small businesses to stand up against his thugs. My wife was a force of nature. I’ve never met a more courageous woman.”

I nodded. Everything made sense on the surface, but why is that–if it were Gabridone–they didn’t just blow her up or something? Hell, I was able to slither my way into The Silver Slipper with a fake badge and a bad accent, and gain access to a high profile politician. Surely Gabridone could’ve done it just as easily. Things were making sense once I scratched just beneath the surface.

I continued, “Now, describe your relationship with Jessica? Were y’all happy?”

Sean gave me an incredulous look, “What kind of question is that?! Of course we were! She was the love of my life!”

“Y’all never fought, had disagreements? You both remained faithful to each other till the end?” I gave him his chance to come clean.

“I loved my wife. I’d never cheat on her.” He said, a strong finger pointing at me.

My head and eyes moved down to the coffee table where the two glasses sat, and then back to the Senator. 

Sean Callahan froze in realization. Evidently, in his panic to the knock on his door, he didn’t clean up after himself.

He began sputtering excuses, “I, uh, I had a client over. We were, uh, we, we, we were discussing budgetary needs. Ha! You know how these things can be. Not every conversation regarding money and politics can be had without loosening up the tongue a little.”

“Oh, Mr. Callahan, I have no doubt you were loosening up your tongue.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” The blood in his face returned to beat red. The Irishman in him was taking the helm.

“Well, the fact that there are two glasses here: one for you, and one—I can only assume—is for your company. The music playing is soft enough to be atmospheric, but not so loud you can’t have a normal conversation. The curtains are open to that view, and it smells like vanilla and cinnamon, but you’re not baking anything.”

Callahan stared at me, glowering with unrighteous indignation.

“You can stop hiding now.” I said to the invisible guest.

A figure came strolling out the bathroom in front of where we were sitting. She was stunning. She was in a black dress with a slit from the hem all the way up to her waist. Her legs went on for days. She had blonde hair that looked designed by Vitruvius. She had all the squishy bits in all the right proportions in all the right places.

She was the lady I passed on my way here before the Bull Elephant Twins waylaid me.

“Howdy, ma’am.” I said, standing as she entered.

“Hello.” She replied. Her voice was smokey and light. She stood with a hand on one hip, her hips cocked to one side.

Callahan might have been a dog, but he had taste.

“Please, miss, come join us.” I said.

Callahan protested, “No, no, no she was just leaving.”

“Sean, please, I insist. Besides, it’d be a shame if someone found out about this little soirée, wouldn’t it? Sure, some might believe the grieving widower turns to the arms of a beautiful lover to find comfort in a time of hurt, but you can’t be too sure your constituents would be so agreeable to such a revelation, right?”

The blonde bombshell gave a throaty laugh. She gave me a lustful look and sat dangerously close to me as we all resumed lounging.

“I remember you,” she said, a finger tracing down my shoulder. “I never forget a face like that.”

“Then we should at least know each other’s name. What does a woman like you like to be called?” I asked.

“Oh, I can think of many things I’d like you to call me,” her voice was purring, “but we’ll just start with B.”

“Just the letter B, huh? Is that short for something?”

Her eyes became half-lids, “Could be. Play your cards right, and I just might tell you what the other letters are.”

I had no reply.

She let out a short, soft laugh of amusement, “I like your accent. You must be one of those Southern men I’ve heard so much about.” I could feel her breath on my neck. Every bone in my body was screaming at me to take her, and take her now, even in front of Callahan.

Callahan cleared his throat. B and I looked over at him both remembering he existed.

I stood and flattened out my suit. I moved from the couch to the other side of the coffee table away from B before I forgot what the color seven smelled like. She reached down and grabbed the glass of wine and continued where she’d left off.

4. Political Jiujutsu

B’s presence changed the schedule of my interrogation. I couldn’t divulge that we were suspecting a serial killer to Callahan in front of someone who was already behaving in a shady manner.

The clock in my head was telling me I might have five minutes left with Callahan before Virgil came back for me. He certainly wouldn’t care to find B here, but Callahan just might out me as not being Detective Morrison, which could potentially land me in a world of trouble.

Anymore information I could get from Sean Callahan would either have to wait, or it would never come. Either way, I think I had all I needed: Sean Callahan couldn’t have killed his wife. I’d need to confirm his alibi with Delaney and Mahoney, but logic told me he was clean on that front.

B, on the other hand, was a curveball. I hadn’t suspected a mistress—or whatever she is—to be involved with the Senator. Did Jessica know about her? Was she a honeytrap for Sean, or just someone who liked wrecking perfectly extravagant homes? I needed to find a way to question B, alone, without witnesses. Otherwise, she didn’t seem like the kind of girl who’d want to just give up information, especially in front of someone like the Senator. She was clandestine, that was clear.

“Miss B, if I may be so bold, I’d love it if you contacted me later for further questioning.” I pulled out my last card and handed it to her.

She took the card and brought it up to her nose and inhaled deeply. Her eyes rolled back and closed as she let out a rather unexpected moan. “Mmm, my, oh my, a date, already? You sure know how to treat a lady…” she looked down at the card, “Mr. Jones.”

A knock came from the door. Callahan shot up, face red as a fire engine. He looked panicked at me and B. B sat, legs crossed in a rather revealing way, wine glass in hand giggling at Callahan’s apparent misery.

It seemed that regardless of his living here, blackmail was a valuable currency, and B was a bar of gold in my hands.

“Just a minute!” Callahan called. This time he rushed around futilely trying to do something with his idle nervous energy.

He looked panic stricken at B, “Please, back in the bathroom!”

B chortled and didn’t move a muscle. “But, why, Seany, when I’m having so much fun?”

He pantomimed to me that I needed to redo my jacket for appearance sake.

I looked at Callahan and made a calm down gesture with my hands, then raised my hands palms up towards my face imploring him to take a breath. The Senator was my ticket out of here one way or the other. I had the leverage I needed for his compliance, so I needed his head in the game.

Callahan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He opened them and the man I saw in all those pictures finally joined the party. The politician was at the helm once again. He fixed his shirt, his hair, and his face with a grin cheesier than an Italian restaurant.

He said loudly and confidently for the sake of the people on the other side of the door, “Well, Detective, it’s been a pleasure! Thank you for this informative visit. Godspeed on your investigation.” And he opened the door.

Virgil was standing there with three guys, two of whom had their heads covered by the top of the door frame. He stood in front of them, both of them on either side, completely blocking any view of the hallway. He had a grin so malicious, it could’ve curdled milk. The third guy standing next to him was a smaller guy, a couple inches shorter than me. He had a five o’clock shadow and enough bags under his eyes to fill an airplane. His tie was loose, and he smelled like cheap cigarettes and an early start on drinking.

“Senator Callahan,” Virgil began, “I’d like to introduce you to Detective Gregory Morrison.”

Callahan without missing a beat reached his hand out and grasped Morrison’s hand with a rather diplomatic greeting, “Detective Morrison, welcome to my humble abode! Mr. Jones here was just making me privy to my wife’s unfortunate death. I suspect the full cooperation of the CPPD with any and all consultants they hire.”

Virgil looked like all the air had just been sucked out of the hallway. He looked at Callahan with profound confusion, as if twenty minutes ago I hadn’t just introduced myself to the Senator as Morrison.

I spoke, using my normal accent in front of everyone now, “Senator, I’m much obliged to your hospitality. You have the full weight of the CPPD and myself in finding the truth.” I reached and shook his hand. “Now, I must say, while unfamiliar with this hotel, I have a pretty unusual memory, so thankfully I won’t be needing your guiding expertise, Virgil. I can’t say the same for the detective here.”

I looked at Virgil. He looked at me with murderous intent. The Twin Titans behind him were a problem I hadn’t figured out yet, but one problem at a time.

Morrison chimed in, “Uh, well, Mr. Callahan, if Mr. Jones here has already told you everything, is there anything I can help you with?”

Sean Callahan smiled in feigned delight to have new guests. I could see him looking past Virgil at the Towering Terrors, inferring that they were visitors for me. He gave me a knowing look, and said, “I would be delighted to aid the CPPD directly! Of course, since Mr. Jones here is merely a consultant, I want to respect the modus operandi of the official police. If you’d only please excuse my campaign advisor joining us.” All four of them peeked behind Callahan to B sitting on the couch. She waved a slow, friendly wave. They gave each other a certain look and all nodded very approvingly.

Callahan looked at Virgil and said, “I would like you to stay with Detective Morrison, Virgil. I do believe this shouldn’t take long. And, as Mr. Jones pointed out, the detective will need an escort back.” He turned, and shook my hand, giving me an apologetic look about the giant problem awaiting me in the hallway.