Warrior Song by Robert F. Clifton (books to read in a lifetime .TXT) 📖

the same time you mentioning talking, me throat is getting dry again.”

“McKenzie smiled and signaled the bartender. “Bring the bottle', he said loudly.

An hour later Alan McKenzie walked into the Midtown South Police Precinct. The first person he saw was the desk sergeant who sat behind a raised counter type desk top built on a raised floor. The Sergeant got up out of his wooden swivel chair then stood looking down at the lieutenant. “And just what will your business be here today my good man?” asked the Sergeant.

McKenzie saw a tall man who was balding and in an attempt to cover his scalp had resorted to using a thick, pomade and then tried to comb the hair over the bald spot. At the same time he had a fashionable, thick handlebar mustache that covered his upper lip and it moved up and down when he spoke.

“Id like to speak to your commanding officer if its possible”, McKenzie answered.

“And, just what will I tell the Captain what you want to speak to him about?”.

“It's a private matter”.

“A private matter you say. Now, you'll be putting me in a hard place me Buck O. Many people come in here wishing to speak to Captain McIntyre and it's always about a private matter. I'm afraid that you'll have to be more explicit about your business before I bother the likes of the Captain.”

“Very well. My business is an investigation done by the New York Police Department which concerns the United States Army”.

“I see. If you will wait just a minute sir I'll be advising the good Captain that you are here. And, your name sir?”

“Lieutenant Alan McKenzie”.

A few minutes later a uniformed police captain attired in the long uniform coat with brass buttons walked into the room of the desk sergeant. After taking a long look at the man dressed in mufti he said, “Sergeant Haggerty informs me that you want to talk with me”, said the captain.

“Yes sir”.

“About what?”

“The United States Army is interested in an investigation done by the New York Police Department. It's under the impression that the investigation was conducted by men out of this precinct.”

“If you are from the army, why aren't you in uniform?”

“Because the army does not wish to draw the news media into this matter. I'm sure you understand”.

“I do, nonetheless I must ask you for your identification”.

“Of course. Here are my credentials”, said McKenzie removing his billfold from the inside pocket of his suit coat.

Captain McIntyre studied the lieutenants papers and handed them back to him. “I suggest we talk in my office. Come with me”, said the Police Captain.

Once inside the small office McIntyre closed the office door, offered McKenzie a seat and then sat down behind his desk. “Now, what do want to know?”, he asked.

“The army is interested in the homicide of Major Conrad Parker. They want to know how, when, and why it happened. Fortunately or unfortunately they picked me to ask all the questions. So, my first question is who is the detective or detectives that investigated the murder? My second question is when can I meet with them?”

“You come right to the point sir. As I recall Detective Sergeant Patrick O'Malley was in charge of that case. You will find him upstairs in the Detective Bureau. I think it's best that I send for him. You two can talk here in my office. I'm certain that this time of day nosy news reporters are about and they know that O'Malley worked that case. Wait here I'll fetch him”.

“Thank you Captain.” As he waited McKenzie fumbled with his derby, turning it over, examining it for flaws, even knowing that it was practically brand new. It was just something to do as he waited. Then he heard the sounds of approaching footsteps. The office door opened and a tall, clean shaven man entered the room. “Lieutenant McKenzie, I'm Sergeant O'Malley. The Captain has told me that you want to ask me some questions. I brought the case folder with me”.

McKenzie stood and shook hands with the man who was tall and muscular. “Yes, and I'm sure that Captain McIntyre has told you of the army's interest in this case”, he said as he sat down again.

“Yes he has. Now, where do you want to start?”

“Let's start with how Parker was murdered”, McKenzie replied.

“The medical examiner reports that death was caused as a result of a severed jugular vein. In short, someone slit his throat. By the amount of blood found in and on the bed your Major Parker bled to death.”

“I see. What can you tell me about the disfiguring of Parker's body?”.

“Hell, I not only can tell you, I can show you. Here are the photographs taken at the crime scene. Of course the pictures are in black and white, but you can make out the details. Here is a photo of the body the way the maid found him with his eyes cut out”, said O'Malley as he handed a photo to McKenzie.

“I see. Interesting, he's on his back as if there was no struggle”, McKenzie said.

“Correct, there was no struggle. This photo is one taken of

the wound on top of his head, caused when and whoever killed him also took his scalp”.

“I see. It appears to have been a neat job”.

“Yes it was. These next two photographs show the amputation of the index finger on each hand. And this last picture is a close up of the wound in his throat”.

“Excellent Sergeant. Is it possible for me to get a complete set of these photo's?”

Patrick O'Malley smiled and looking around the small office said, “It could be arranged for, let's say a fee of maybe twenty dollars. If you know what I mean”.

“No problem Sergeant. When can I expect them?”

“You can have these. I have another set in my desk”.

McKenzie reached into his pocket and took out a twenty dollar gold piece and handed it to the detective. “Thank you Sergeant. You’ve been a big help. Now, do you have any suspects?”

“My guess is who ever killed your Major was an Indian. Most White men, even Black men don't take scalps when they kill Lieutenant. If I was you, I'd start there”.

Arriving back at the boarding house McKenzie sat using a magnifying glass as he studied the black and white photographs of the crime scene and dead body of Major Conrad Parker. After an hour he still had the feeling that something was not just right, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He placed the photographs in his brief case and went down stairs for supper.

When he took his seat at the table he was surprised to see a young woman in the chair next to him. As Mrs Brentwood served she said, “Gentlemen, we have a new guest who will be staying with us. This is Miss Edna Bell who just arrived to take a position as a school teacher here in the city. I hope all of you welcome her.”

McKenzie smiled and offered his hand. “Welcome, Miss Bell. I'm Alan McKenzie. I hope you enjoy your stay here as well as the city”, he said.

“And, may I say welcome also.”, said Harry Finley.

“Yes welcome, my dear, although I am sure that there were be different schedules in relation to the bathroom”, said Harvey Perkins”.

“All in good time Mr. Perkins. All in good time”, said Mrs. Brentwood.

Edna Bell turned and said, “And, just what is your occupation Mr. McKenzie?”

“Yes we would like to know that also. A pity that we haven't seen much of you about”, said Perkins.

“As a matter of fact, I'm an engineer”, said McKenzie.

“Is that a fact? With who may I ask?”, said Finley.

“No one at the moment. I've just arrived and have taken time to take in the city, so to speak. Gainful employment is not an immediate priority at the moment, McKenzie replied.

“Then, can we take it that you are perhaps, financially independent?”, asked Perkins.

“You can take it any way you desire sir. When I'm ready I shall offer my services to any one of the many good engineering firms in the city.”

“I'm sure that you are more than qualified', said Mrs. Brentwood.

Back in his room McKenzie examined the photographs again. He noticed that the, top sheet and blanket on the bed appeared to be soaked in blood. Then, looking at the photographs of the scalp wound and hands he noticed that there was no bleeding, indicating that Parker was dead before his body was mutilated. Knowing that he was no criminologist he was still aware that the mutilation of a body was not just an American Indian trait. Killers have been known to mutilate bodies for any number of reason, chiefly, hate for the deceased.

However, scalping was unusual, except for Native Americans or the old time Indian fighters.

The next morning McKenzie walked to the nearest telegraph office. He was handed a yellow pad and instructed to write his message. With a sharp pencil he wrote: Having nice time. Weather here mild. Would like to hear from you...McKenzie. The lieutenant handed the pad to the telegrapher and said, “Make sure that goes to Alonzo Willett at this address.''

During the second week of July Lieutenant McKenzie waited for some communication from Colonel Willett. None came. As he waited for the arrival of a telegram with instructions or orders he sat day after day on the front porch of the Brentwood Boarding House. Most times to occupy his time he sat reading the New York Times. On a Saturday morning after breakfast he was joined by Miss Edna Bell who walked out on to the porch and said, “Will I be disturbing you if I sat here?”

McKenzie looked up and smiled, then stood. “Not at all. Please make yourself comfortable,” he said.

“Thank you. I'm afraid that I ate too much for breakfast. I must be careful. I have a tendency to gain weight and Mrs. Brentwood is an excellent cook”, said Edna.

“Yes she is. I meant to ask you at breakfast how you are proceeding in your quest for a teachers position here in the city?”

“Thank you for asking. Actually I have an interview on Wednesday of this week. It looks very promising”.

“Excellent. I'm sure you will be selected”.

“And how are you proceeding, Mr. McKenzie? Are you still taking your time in joining an engineering firm here in the city?”

“Yes I am”.

“I get the impression that you are very particular”.

“Not really. I also might have an offer from a company in Washington, D.C. I am waiting to hear from them as we speak.”

“I see. Well I'm sure that you will hear something soon”.

“Yes. Now, how are you making out here in New York?”

“Everything is fine. I like it here with Mrs. Brentwood.

The accommodations are fine. I think I have already mentioned the food. I still have to remove the spittoon from my room”, said Edna with a giggle.

“I take it then that you don't intend to take up chewing tobacco,” McKenzie asked with a grin

“No, I don't think so. Do you chew, Mr. McKenzie”.

“No Mam”.

“I think it's a disgusting habit. We women are constantly on guard as to where we walk for at times the hems of our skirts or dresses accidentally collect the vile residue of someone's spitting”.

“I can see where that would be a problem”.

McKenzie looked up to see a young man ride up out front on a bicycle. The youth was dressed in the uniform of a telegraph company. When the delivery boy walked up on the porch he said, “I have a telegram for a Mr. Alan McKenzie. Could you tell me where I could find him?”

“You just have”, said McKenzie as he stood and took the envelope. After handing the boy a dime he turned to Edna Bell and said, “Excuse me”, then open the message. He read:

“WEATHER HERE BETTER. SUGGEST YOU RETURN HOME. EXPECT YOU IN TWO DAYS. ALONZO”

Edna Bell looked at McKenzie and said, “I hope that it is not bad news”.

McKenzie smiled