3.
The Berger house was located on a quiet street, set back on a large, well-tended lot shaded by a dozen or so mature trees. The house itself was brick, though the upper floor was clad in half timbers in imitation of a Tudor manse, for reasons that escaped Stan. He estimated it was worth somewhere around $ 2 million, though it was certainly far more gracious and spacious than what you would get for that sum in Manhattan or the chic parts of Brooklyn these days.
The detectives had read the report filed by the uniformed officers who had taken the 911 call. The officers were off-duty right now and the matter was not urgent enough to disturb them, so they would interview them later if anything the parents said led to a conclusion other than the obvious one of suicide.
The door was answered by a casually, but neatly dressed couple. According to the report, Karen Berger, 48, was a lawyer for a very well-regarded Wall Street firm. Steven Berger, also 48, was a medical researcher at Greenwich University. They looked, understandably, like they were still in shock. It was clear that Mrs. Berger had been crying quite recently. Perhaps her husband had been as well.
“I’m Detective Moore, Barbara Moore, and this is my partner, Detective Stan Goldman,” Barb began. “Our deepest condolences on your loss. May we come in?”
“We already told the other officers everything we know,” Karen replied. “And really, this is a family tragedy, not a crime.”
“I understand, Mrs. Berger, really I do, but the Medical Examiner just wants to dot all the I’s and cross all the T’s. I’m sure you understand. It will only take a few minutes.”
Karen Berger’s shoulders slumped. At this moment, she wasn’t a Wall Street lawyer but a bereaved mother trying to understand what would have caused the baby she had nurtured to adulthood to take her own life. “Yes, OK. Maybe you will help us find some reason why our daughter did this.” She and her husband backed away from the door, ushering Stan and Barb inside.
The living room was comfortably furnished, though Stan was far enough away from being a home décor maven to say whether it was high end stuff or not. “Please sit down, detectives,” Steven Berger said, indicating a leather sofa. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Please don’t go to any trouble,” Stan replied. “I know how difficult it must be for you. We’ll try to get through this as quickly as possible. I understand it was you who found her.”
“Yes, this morning around 7,” Berger replied. It seemed he was on the verge of tears.
“Where were you last night?” Barb asked.
“At the Alzheimer’s Research Organization’s gala fundraiser at the Marriott Times Square. I have a research grant from them, so we go to the event every year.”
“What time did you leave here?”
“A little before 6.”
“And what did Amanda say her plans for the evening were?”
Berger glanced at Karen who picked up the conversation, “She didn’t say much. She’s an adult, in college. We don’t track her every move.”
“Where does she go to school?” Barb asked.
“Greenwich,” Steven replied. “Since I’m on faculty there, she gets-or got-free tuition. And it’s a great school.”
Barb nodded. “Yes it is. How did Amanda like it?”
“She just started there of course, since she just graduated high school back in June, but she liked it a lot. She was majoring in Biology, following in my footsteps, I hoped.”
“I imagine you were very proud of her,” Barb said. Steven nodded, a tear welling in his left eye. Barb paused for a moment, then resumed her questioning. “What time did you get home from the gala?”
“Around 11:30, perhaps a bit later,” Karen replied.
“And you didn’t see Amanda?”
“She wasn’t in her room. We called her name and got no answer, so we figured she was out. We were tired and went to bed.”
“Was it unusual for her to be out that late?”
Karen looked angry. “Look, is this necessary. She killed herself. How is this your business? We’ve lost our baby. Please, leave us to grieve in peace,” she sobbed, her body shaking. Barb and Stan sat in silence, fidgeting as Karen’s sobs gradually waned.
Barb cleared her throat. “If you wouldn’t mind Mr. Berger, could I just ask a few more questions?” He nodded. “What made you look in the attic?”
Steven Berger looked pained, but he answered. “She wasn’t home when we got up, so I called her phone. I heard it ringing in the attic and I went to investigate. I saw her as soon as I got halfway up the stairs.” He turned away, unable to continue.
Barb spoke softly, “Just a couple of more questions, if you wouldn’t mind. Was she depressed? Was she seeing anyone for counselling? She had never tried to hurt herself before, had she?”
Karen glowered at the two detectives. “No, she was not. Not depressed. Not in counselling. And, no, she had never tried to kill herself, ever. She was happy, excited about starting college. Now I think it’s time you left us alone. If the ME has ruled her death a suicide, then we would like to claim our child so we can bury her. Surely, we have that right.”
“Yes you do, Mr. and Mrs. Berger, absolutely,” Stan said, rising. Barb got up as well. “If I might ask, is there anyone else we could talk to that knew Amanda well. A boyfriend perhaps?”
Karen glared at him. “Amanda came out back in sophomore year at high school. Now this interview is over.” Stan was going to ask if there were a girlfriend, but thought the better of it.
As they drove back to the station, Stan turned to Barb. “So what do you think?”
“Back in Minneapolis, I was part of a team looking at teen suicides. They put me on it because of my psychology degree. It’s unusual, particularly for females of that age, that they would go all the way on a first attempt. The usual pattern is multiple attempts before they finally succeed. So assuming her parents aren’t lying or in denial, then I think Charlie might be right that there may be something strange going on here.”
Stan nodded. “Yeah, I tend to agree. The problem we’re going to have is that the parents aren’t anxious to have us digging into their daughter’s life, which I guess I understand. And the mother’s a lawyer and knows her rights. There’s no way we can get a warrant, because Charlie will have no choice but to rule it a suicide and there’s zero probable cause to think a crime was committed. I couldn’t even give you a theory that guesses at that.”
“Nor can I,” Barb said. “But I hate to just drop this.”
“Then we won’t. Maybe I’m a foolish old guy taken in by your cute little behind, but I trust your instincts, Moore. Let’s see what we can find out. Unless all hell breaks loose on some other case, I think Reggie will give us some leeway. We’re the stars who solved the Bronx Crux Murders after all. Now, what’s your pleasure for dinner, Moore? And maybe we can find some pleasure after dinner while we’re at it too.”
Barb rolled her eyes and laughed. “Sure, Stan. You may be a foolish old guy, but every so often you do come up with a good idea.”
So, you think I protesteth too much?
