Sykes took the B line to 72nd street, right on the edge of Central Park, and took his lunch with him. It wasn’t far from the lake, and a leisurely hour pondering what was right in the world rather than what was wrong seemed a good idea.
Besides that, he was still debating whether he would talk to Walthensen’s parents, who conveniently, now, lived just across Central Park West in W 71st Street. He’d checked it out, an old apartment block refurbished, and expensive.
Slightly more upmarket than his brownstone in Queens.
The question was, did he really want to see these people. He got the impression from Harry that he would be wasting his time. Still, he had an obligation to tell the next of kin about what had happened to Harry.
He sat down and looked across the lake, took in the few people in boats, and the relative serenity even though the sounds of the city were encroaching, like a fire truck and several police cars, sirens blaring. There seemed a lot more of them these days.
As he ate his sandwiches, ham and some sort of mustard, he pondered the case, that is, the case regarding the Jones brothers, and, now, the third partner, Brightwater Until his body had been found, Sykes’ money was on Brightwater as the murderer.
It wouldn't be the first time a partner killed the other partners to get the money.
Either money or sex, the other great motivator for murder.
That Walthenson had been investigating adultery for one of the wives, and then counter accusations by the other brother, could it be possible that Brightwater was having an affair with both the wives and one or the other killed him when they discovered his perfidy?
Another good motive for murder, for sure.
The trouble was, the chief had shut the case down, reduced the manpower since all the leads had been worked and each time led to nothing. As the days passed and the trail grew colder, more men were taken away, and now it was just him, and that was only at his insistence.
He’d convinced the chief what had happened to Walthenson was part of the case, and he wanted to get answers from Harry when he was better.
The chief had given him another week, two at the most.
Over a month had passed and he was still no closer to finding out who murdered the brothers, and the medical examiner's office was ready to sign off on Brightwater as a suicide.
Right now, the Jones cases were circling the drain.
He was certain the same person killed the two of them, and that was Brightwater, but he'd been silenced before Sykes could get him into the interview room.
But, by whom?
All of the potential suspects had an alibi, and on the slim evidence he had for one suspect, no DA would prosecute.
Yes, he thought, Walthenson knew something, and he needed to know what that was.
Lunch finished, he’d made up his mind. He would visit Harry’s parents.
It was better than having to go back to the office.
© Charles Heath 2016-2019
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