Turner organized their next interviews so that they’d be least geographically challenged. He also called Judy Wilson, who had said she knew the bar owner. She had set up a meeting for later that morning at the bar. She said she would call when she had the exact time.
They walked up to Callaghan’s ex-wife Stacey’s porch. As Turner raised his hand to knock, a teenager wearing all black rushed out the door. He ignored the cops but took the time to slam the screen door. He hopped on a bike that had lain on the front lawn and pedaled off down the street.
“Everett, come back here,” came the shout through the door.
“Domestic bliss,” Fenwick said. “My favorite.”
Turner knocked.
A harried woman in her mid-thirties hurried around a corner and rushed down a short hallway. “You need to close this door to keep the heat out.” She pushed open the screen door and tried to see around the detectives.
“Where did he go?”
“Took off on his bike,” Turner said.
“Who are you guys?” She peered at each of them. “Cops? I know cops. What? Barry get killed, too? I can’t be that lucky.”
Turner made introductions.
She opened the door, closed it carefully behind them. It was cooler inside. As she led them into the living room she said, “You got teenagers?”
They nodded.
“You can’t control ‘em. Now or ever. Course, I was no saint when I was his age.” Mrs. Callaghan indicated two chairs reupholstered in pink chenille. She sat on a green horsehair couch. “What’s he done this time? I heard about the other one. Course, wouldn’t bother me if he was dead, except I’d miss the alimony and child support payments. I wonder if ex-wives are entitled to any widow’s support from the police. Probably not. Although with divorce, I don’t know. You guys know how that works?”
“Sorry, no,” Turner said. He rushed ahead attempting to interrupt her flow. “We’re trying to find out as much as we can about your ex-husband and his relationship with Officer Belger.”
“Relationship? You mean they were gay? Nah. My very, very ex-husband was a lot of things; mean, vicious, stupid, but gay. Nah. He wasn’t great in bed, but he was interested, always interested. If interest was a virtue, he’d’ve been a saint. Now, that Belger guy. I heard they found him at that gay thing. What is all that about? Makes no sense to me, but Belger, he was an oddball all the time.”
“Did they get along?”
“I guess they did. I divorced my son-of-a-bitch years ago. I don’t know how they’ve gotten along since then. Might be better. Might be worse. Back then, it was more like they were used to each other. Friends in a kind of forced way. A bickering kind of way. But men do that, don’t they?”
Turner said, “Officer Belger attempted to hit his first wife.”
“She told me that. That’s when she left him. Mine came after me. I learned, oh how I learned to stick up for myself. By the end the asshole would cringe from me. Oh, he’d yell and holler and carry on, but he’d cringe. And the carrying on was about stupid stuff. He thought I’d be his mother. Bullshit. I don’t think that woman ever said no to him about anything.”
“His mother ever call the police on him?”
She laughed. “She’s no fool. Call the cops on a cop? Ha!”
“Do you ever remember your ex getting in trouble at work? Being worried about losing his job?”
“He was always complaining about his bosses. Always. Never did much good. Never got specific.”
“Why didn’t he ask for a transfer?”
“I brought that up a few times. He told me to forget it. He claimed that Boyle wouldn’t give transfers, but I don’t think he wanted one. I think he wanted to work with Belger.”
“Did he ever talk about someone protecting him, a friend who had clout?”
“Not to me. He didn’t talk much to me about his job. He’d tell endless stupid stories to his cop friends. All the stories were the same; how brave they were and how stupid crooks are.”
“Where were you before midnight?”
“Chasing my idiot son. He’s as bad as his father. We had him when I was eighteen. My little mistake. Ha!”
They got up to leave. She said, “You seem like decent guys. Be careful. My ex-husband is a loon. He’s capable of anything. He could have killed Belger easy. If he did, it wouldn’t bother him to go after you guys.”
In the car Fenwick said, “It’s so nice everybody is so concerned for our welfare.”
“Lot of good their warnings do now. Callaghan and Belger were creeps long before this.”
Fenwick said, “Those two guys were up to something.”
Turner nodded. “That’s why there weren’t any transfers. Why do you stick with someone you can’t stand? It’s got to benefit you in some way. They must have been in on something.”
“Money,” Fenwick said.
“Gotta be,” Turner said.
Both detectives knew of the numerous scandals through the years about police theft rings, extortion rings, and on and on.
Fenwick said, “Was it more than them?”
Turner said, “Whose record is clean? Callaghan’s. He’s the one who must have the most pull, and pull means power.”
Turner’s cell phone rang. He listened for a moment then said to Fenwick, “It’s for you. Says it’s the goddess.”
“Tell her I’m busy.”
Turner spoke into the receiver. “He says he’s busy.” He listened a moment then said, “Sure.” He picked up a piece of paper and scribbled something Fenwick couldn’t see. Turner hung up.
Fenwick gaped at him. He said, “That may be one of the older jokes on the planet.”
Turner held out the paper. “I took a message. She wants you to call.”
Fenwick snatched the paper. The scribble was only a scribble.
“Who was it? Madge?”
“Judy Wilson. She and Roosevelt have the bartender set to talk to us in another half hour. We’ve got time to meet with Teasdale, the Ninth District secretary. It’s on our way.”