When the Dead Speak

Chapter 55

Chapter 55

The elderly man behind the counter looked like a tall Yoda complete with pointed ears and wrinkled forehead. He squinted at the handwriting on the form Jake handed him. Charlie Buckmeister had retired from the police force ten years ago but couldn't seem to keep himself busy at home. So he was hired on as a part-time records clerk.

"Nineteen-seventy-seven? You weren't even born then."

Jake laughed. "I assure you, Charlie, I was alive and driving my mother crazy."

The Records Department archives were in the basement at Headquarters near Central Stores. The smell of paper dust mingled with subtle exhaust fumes filtering from the door to the underground garage.

Headquarters, Precinct One, was Sam's old precinct and home to Chief Connelley. Being a weekend, there would be a skeleton crew upstairs, but Jake had no plans on browsing the halls.

"They've been trying to get all the records on those new-fangled computers but they've only gotten as far back as, I think, about 1982." He scribbled the name on a piece of paper. "Casey, Samuel. Okay, let me lookie-see what I've got."

Jake watched Charlie shuffle off to the filing cabinets. A half-empty cup of coffee sat next to a chocolate donut with two bites out of it.

"Have to try the back room," Charlie called out, having checked the dates on the cabinets in the front room. Several minutes later, Charlie returned. "Here you go. Need to sign out the file or do you just want a copy of something?"

"I'll let you know." Jake skimmed through the incident report on Samuel Casey's death. Reading Abby's comments made him conjure up a picture of a cute five-year-old girl, clutching a doll, waving to her father through the window.

The case was only investigated for three days. It seemed to have been thorough. Even the arson and explosive experts found nothing to point to a homicide. Jake wondered if the technology they had today would have come to the same conclusion. If he had been the detective on the case, he would have spent more than three days investigating it.

"Do you remember this case, Charlie?" Jake asked.

"That specific case, no. But I remember the date. June 6. That was the day before that letter bomb went off at City Hall. Injured three people. Killed the mailman."

"Nice diversion," Jake whispered.

"What?"

"Nothing." Jake pointed to a signature at the bottom of the report. "Do you recognize these initials?"

Charlie squinted again, studying the curly letters that looked like an ampersand with a line through it.

"Naw. Can't say that I do. He would have been the supervisor on the case."

"Why does it say revise on the top page?" He flipped through the back pages. "Where's the original?"

"Should be in there."

Jake checked the file again. Only the revised report was there. "What about the two men who investigated the incident?"

"Simms and Beransky?" Charlie rubbed his dimpled chin. "Simms I believe was killed in a high speed chase several years after that. Beransky quit the force not too soon after. Beransky had been driving the squad car."

"Could you make two copies of this sheet for me?" Jake handed the file back to Charlie with the page to be copied on top. He wanted one of the copies for Carl.