Murder in Greenwich Village by Lee Harris Page A

through the ID procedure and asked about the file for Curtis Morgan, giving the date of his last alleged crime. “I really can’t wait, Sarge. We’ve got a missing detective, possible kidnap, and we—Thanks.”
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Jane asked.
    â€œMy computer’s not doing its thing. I’m calling the Eight-eight in Brooklyn, where he was last arrested. The son of a bitch had the good grace not to pull a job in his own precinct. They should have something on file. Yeah, I’m here,” he said into the phone. He listened for a full minute without comment, then said, “Can I have the name and phone number of the detective who caught the case?”
    Jane watched him write, listening to his murmurs.
    â€œAnd that’s it?” he asked finally. “OK. No, I appreciate it.” He hung up and turned to Jane. “This is gonna blow your mind. My computer tells me there’s nothing on Morgan besides information on his death, and they just looked at the paper file at the Eight-eight and it’s empty.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œGot his name, the detective’s name, and a notation that Morgan died at Kings County Hospital. That’s it.”
    â€œThis guy had history.”
    â€œYeah. And someone wants to keep it a deep, dark secret.”

11
    JANE TOOK A few seconds to consider it. “You’re right. It does blow my mind. I think the whip has to hear about this. I’ll find McElroy.”
    He was in his office, a day’s growth of stubble darkening his face. He looked up and motioned her in. “What?” he said.
    She told him.
    â€œShit.”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œYou got the name of the catching detective?”
    â€œSean does.”
    â€œThis better go to the inspector. Keep at it.” He picked up the phone as she left the office.
    MacHovec was on the phone with the detective when she returned. “Hold on,” he said. “I want to conference my partner, Jane Bauer.”
    She got on the phone and wrote down the detective’s name, Greg Turner.
    â€œSean’s just telling me about the Morgan file. It’s a couple of years ago and I didn’t do much on it—the guy died—but it’s coming back to me. I think we arrested him and he started coughing up blood and we bussed him over to Kings County. He never came out and that was the end of the case. He had a partner, I think, and we made a case against him. Morgan didn’t live long after the arrest, a week at the most. I don’t know why the file would be empty. I typed up some Fives, did some follow-up.” His voice petered out.
    â€œAnyone talk to you about the case?” Jane asked.
    â€œNot that I remember. Morgan and his partner had broken into an auto parts store at night, cleaned out the cash that was left, and picked up a lotta stuff they could sell. Looked like they were working for a chop shop about a mile away. It wasn’t their first, I can tell you that. Morgan was too old and too sick to be doing that kind of work. His partner was younger but I can’t remember his name.”
    â€œAny reason you can think of why Morgan’s file would be missing?” MacHovec asked.
    â€œNot offhand. This wasn’t big stuff.”
    Jane nodded to MacHovec, and he thanked Turner and finished the conversation.
    â€œThis feels bad to me,” MacHovec said. What no one had said out loud, including McElroy, was that the empty paper file and the missing computer information indicated a high-level police intervention.
    â€œMe too.” She looked at her watch. It was after nine. “I’m calling Kings County.”
    Like Bellevue Hospital in Manhattan, Kings County Hospital in Brooklyn had the reputation of working their tails off to save police lives. Cops were known to stuff a wounded comrade in a radio car and take him to Kings County rather than call an ambulance from a nearer hospital that might not