Belger’s first wife lived on a street filled with a row of Chicago bungalows, narrow houses with gables parallel to the street, constructed of dark maroon brick with only a few feet between them. She lived just south of Pershing Road. They only had to knock once before she answered. They introduced themselves.
She said, “Wife number two called to tell me the news. I hope he suffered.” She wore gray sweatpants and a blue T-shirt. She led them to her kitchen. Clean, neat with a New York Firemen calendar on the wall. She caught Turner glancing at it. She said, “My current husband is a fireman. He’s on duty.”
Turner and Fenwick sat opposite her.
Fenwick said, “You’re glad he’s dead.”
“I’d love to be dancing in the street. If it wasn’t so hot out, I probably would.”
“The two of you had problems?” Turner asked.
“That’s putting it too mildly. I was naïve when I married him. I thought the little sexual peccadilloes were something I could handle. After he hauled out the whips and leather, I said adios.”
“Not your scene?” Fenwick asked.
“No.”
Turner said, “I’m trying to ask this delicately…”
She interrupted, “Was our sex life normal?”
Turner nodded.
“I was seldom satisfied. I don’t think he was either. Once, at his urging, I tied his wrists together. I thought it was just silly. I laughed at him.”
Fenwick said, “We found him with a dildo up his butt and what looked like a cue ball stuck in his mouth.”
“I can tell you he loved to have his butt played with. That was disgusting. Another time he wanted me to strap on a dildo and do him. That was even more disgusting.”
Fenwick said, “Wife number two claimed she never saw the dildos or leather items.”
“Maybe he learned his lesson. Maybe he went outside the marriage. As far as I know, he never cheated on me.”
Turner said, “You’d think he’d have mentioned those oddities before the marriage.”
“The idiot didn’t. He thought I’d just go along. He thought I’d cheerfully give in to his whims. He was gross and pathetic. Total yecch. When I wouldn’t give in, he got nasty.”
“Did he hit you?” Turner asked.
“He tried to. He came after me one night. I beat the shit out of him.” She shook her head. “He liked it! He wanted me to do more. I moved out the next day. That wasn’t my idea of a life together.”
“He was found at a gay leather party.”
“You know,” she said, “after the dildo incident I was suspicious. I mean things never worked out sexually between us, but he never mentioned guys. It’s the kind of thing where you say, could he be, but by that time I didn’t care enough about him. I just didn’t want to think about him. Ever.”
“Did you meet Callaghan?”
“I’ll say. That man was a menace. That man and my husband were a lethal combination, and I’m not talking about that problem in the bar. That was a joke.”
“How so?” Turner asked.
“You think that was the first time Callaghan roughed up a woman? I know he went after his wife before she divorced him. I know because she’d be over here crying both before and after I got divorced from my idiot.”
“You knew the Callaghans?” Fenwick asked.
“Sure. We’d socialize once in a while as a foursome. Callaghan’s wife and I were on a couple of social committees. Our kids went to the same school for a while.”
“How did your husband and Callaghan get along?”
“I must have been really naïve when I was younger. I thought all partners did what they did.”
“What was that?” Turner asked.
“Well, they palled around together, and sure they joked, but they ribbed each other unmercifully. The arguments would start about small stuff, sports usually. They’d egg each other on, and it would escalate. By the end of the arguments, if it had been two women, both of them would have been in tears. But they just kept being buddies.”
“Why didn’t either of them put in for transfers?” Turner asked.
“Because even after the most violent arguments, they’d be all buddies again the next day. The fights got fueled by late nights, shots of booze, and gallons of beer. They’d sober up, and the whole cycle would start again.”
“Any actual physical fights?” Turner asked.
“Not that I know of, but no, there was one totally odd incident. This must have happened about a year before our divorce. Trent came in one night, and he was sobbing. He was sure they were going to fire him.”
“What happened?” Turner asked.
“Him and his buddy had beaten up some suspect. You remember Commander Burge and how people are trying to sue him?”
Turner nodded. It was a notorious case and no cops had been arrested, yet. Suspects in Burge’s old Area claimed to have had confessions beaten out of them. Turner knew cops rarely actually beat confessions out of suspects in this day and age, but some cops still walked a thin line.
She said, “This went beyond the usual. They tasered the guy. Took turns zapping him. Turned out they nearly killed him.”
“Obviously, he didn’t get fired,” Turner said.
“Not even suspended. I’m not sure why. I don’t know if he knew why. I think Callaghan might have had some powerful friends in the department. It also might have had something to do with the fact that the guy they were questioning was suspected of molesting five- and six-year old girls. Nobody’s got sympathy for that. Guy deserved whatever he got.”
Fenwick said, “But that kind of treatment could have gotten the case thrown out. Did they get a confession?”
She rearranged the salt and pepper shakers which had been perfectly aligned. She shrugged, “I’m not sure. The case never went to trial. The guy they were trying to arrest just sort of disappeared. At least, that’s what he told me.”
Turner figured either Callaghan or Belger or both must know someone very powerful. Complete cover-ups weren’t that easy. You needed cooperation from high in the department.
“But you never found out the details?” Turner asked.
“Nope. He just went to work, and ‘poof’ everything was just great. He and that idiot partner of his kept on being buddies, but I’m not sure they were as close as before. At least, we didn’t go out much socially as a foursome any more, but the two of them seemed welded together. And by that point, I didn’t care much. I got rid of him, got a good divorce settlement, and moved out of the city.”
Turner and Fenwick left.
In the muggy, middle-of-the-night air, Fenwick said, “Tasering somebody and the suspect goes missing? That takes balls.”
“Or stupidity.”
“That kind of cover-up means powerful friends. Something is very not right.”
In the car Fenwick said, “He wanted her to strap on a dildo and fuck him. We found him with a dildo up his butt. Does that mean he’s gay?”
“It means he wanted his wife to use a dildo on him and that either he or the killer was getting what he wanted in the end. So to speak.”
Fenwick said, “That was one of your weaker attempts at a pun.”
Turner said, “More of a play on words although I have been practicing. I guess I’ll never be able to catch up to you.”
“For which the world is probably thankful,” Fenwick admitted.
Turner said, “As long as we’re talking to the women in their lives, let’s check on the bartender, and we might as well add Callaghan’s wife.” He checked the data sheets. “Wives.”