windar
Teller of Tales
She won't like those either. I guess I'll stick with "Your Highness" or maybe less formally, "Boss".
I'm on a diet.
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Noosed Nude NYC
- Thread starter windar
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She won't like those either. I guess I'll stick with "Your Highness" or maybe less formally, "Boss".
She won't like those either. I guess I'll stick with "Your Highness" or maybe less formally, "Boss".
I am NOT BOSSY!
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
It's not a stake-out!
Probably Connors and Brown think the same about Goldman and Moore!
hongzu117
Magistrate
Speak more than a few times，I think she would get used to it.She won't like those either. I guess I'll stick with "Your Highness" or maybe less formally, "Boss".
Oh，wow，you didn't say that last night in bed！No, stop right there ... I can only imagine what’s coming next ...
But this is a discussion.It's not a stake-out!
Once again, I am enjoying this hugely!
But can I just mention that you have changed the simple act of cleaning my teeth forever!
Rest assured ... the state of your dental hygiene is only of marginal interest to us ... now about those new cuffs you recently installed on the four-poster ...
windar
Teller of Tales
6.
Most people don’t make a career in the District Attorney’s office. Typically, they start there out of law school and put in several years, gaining invaluable experience in litigation, something they wouldn’t be allowed within a mile of at that stage of life in most large law firms. Then, if things go as planned, they accept an offer with a law firm where they can put those skills to work at much higher salaries than the taxpayers are willing to offer.
Sam Bittner was the exception-he was approaching 50 and had spent almost 25 years working as a prosecutor, rising to the highest level in the office below the DA himself. Since DA was an elected position, and Sam wasn’t a very political person, that was likely where he’d remain until retirement.
Sam and Stan had developed a strong relationship from the many cases they had worked on together over much of that time. He had met Barb more recently, taking her testimony on the Bronx Crux case, which had ended with the perps taking a plea bargain that would have them in prison until into their eighties if they lived that long.
So, Sam was, of course the person Stan wanted to talk to about this case, or putative case, to be more honest. Sam got up from his chair and strode towards the door, welcoming the two detectives into his office. Grasping Barb’s hand, he shook it heartily. “How are you doing, Detective Moore?”
“It was a lot of work, but I feel like I’m finally back to my old self,” Barb replied.
“Well, you look good, Barb.”
“Thank you, Sam.” Barb replied.
“No one ever said that about me,“ Stan added.
“Oh, you’re OK, I guess,” Barb said, winking at Stan.
“Have a seat,” Sam said. “You guys want some coffee?”
“Sure,” Stan replied. The coffee here was certainly better than the toxic waste at the precinct where they’d met with Brown and Connors.
“Would it be possible to have some tea instead?” Barb asked.
“Troublemaker,” Stan muttered.
“No trouble at all,” Sam replied, leaving to fetch them their beverages. Barb stuck her tongue out at Stan.
“Cute, Moore,” Stan quipped.
Sam returned with the beverages and a very attractive olive complexioned young woman with straight black hair. Stan and Barb stood to greet her. “This is Suzanna Rodriguez, one of the bright new ADAs in the office. I hope you don’t mind if she sits in.” She shook hands with the detectives.
“Not at all,” Stan said, giving her the head-to-toe once-over. He thought he caught Barb glaring at him, but perhaps he was mistaken. Suzanna pulled up a chair in front of Sam’s desk, joining the two detectives.
“So, to what do we owe this visit?” Sam asked. “Not that you guys aren’t always welcome to stop by. No more girls hanging naked on crosses, I hope.”
Stan glanced at Barb. “Not exactly, but close,” he said. “We have an eighteen year old female found hanging naked on a rope in the attic of her parents’ very lovely home in Riverdale. Charlie Yang says the cause of death was strangulation with said rope, with no sign of a struggle. He’s ruled it suicide.”
Bittner looked puzzled. “You want this office to get involved in a suicide, Stan? On what basis?”
Barb spoke up. “It’s a feeling Dr. Yang has that something didn’t seem right. There’s no note and no history of previous suicide attempts, depression or anything untoward according to her parents.”
“Barb, what most parents don’t know, or don’t want to know about their teenage kids would fill a book. Quite a few books, in fact.”
“I know that,” Barb said. “I’m pretty sure that anything she was thinking would be on-line in some place her parents wouldn’t know about and couldn’t access.”
“Have you looked at her phone and computer?” Sam asked.
Stan replied. “Her parents threw us out of the house before we could ask. They seem devastated and don’t want to talk about it. Maybe there’s some deep, dark family secret they’re ashamed of. I don’t know. They said she was gay, but that’s hardly a big deal these days. The mother’s a lawyer on the Street, so we aren’t going to be able to snow her. What are the odds we could get a warrant?”
Sam looked a bit taken aback. “You have a death ruled a suicide by the ME, with no signs of struggle. I can’t get a warrant based on ‘Charlie Yang feels something is amiss and there’s no note’. No note that you’ve seen, I might add, though that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. I’d be laughed out of court.”
He continued. “What crime are you alleging took place here exactly?” Stan thought about that and didn’t really have a good answer. Examined from the DA’s perspective, he could see how this whole thing looked a bit nuts.
“Suppose someone helped her?” Stan asked.
“Assisted suicide is a crime. Remember Dr. Kevorkian? That doc out in Michigan who helped terminally ill patients end it all. Eventually they got him for second degree homicide even though the guy gave written consent. But he actually stuck the needle in the guy’s arm and injected the drugs. Plus he was dumb enough to film it. But what evidence do you have that anyone else was involved here?”
“None,” Barb replied. “She could have affixed the rope all by herself, stuck her head in the noose, climbed on the chair and jumped. That’s quite possible.”
“And without evidence to the contrary, that’s the end of the story, isn’t it?”
“Let me ask you this, Sam?” Barb asked. She glanced at Suzanna who was diligently taking notes. “Suppose she’s thinking about suicide for whatever reason and confides that in someone, in person or on-line and they encourage her. When she expresses reluctance, they goad her on. Would that be a crime?”
Sam thought for a moment. “Possibly. It would depend on the circumstances. Maybe we could make Manslaughter or even Depraved Indifference Homicide. It might be a stretch, but I would give it a shot if Pete were on board.” Pete was Peter Salerno, Sam’s boss, the Bronx DA. “And this would be the kind of case that would draw media attention if it were taken to trial. You guys know all about that of course, so Pete would want to be very sure of winning. But it’s all academic until you bring me something, and, right now, you have nothing.”
“I agree with you, Sam,” Stan said. “Right now we have nothing. Except a decent cup of coffee,” he added, downing the remains and rising. “I’m sorry for bothering you with this.”
“Not at all, Stan,” Sam replied. “I always have time to catch up with my favorite detective and his partner. Charlie Yang is a smart guy and you’re not dumb for paying attention to what he says. There may be something here, but you’re going to have to dig deeper. And that’s Reggie’s call whether he wants you guys devoting your time to this.”
Barb stood, as did Suzanna Gonzalez. “It was great to meet you, Ms. Gonzalez,” she said. “I hope we’ll have the opportunity to work with you, if not on this case, then on some other one.”
“I’m sure we will, Detective,” the young ADA replied.
Most people don’t make a career in the District Attorney’s office. Typically, they start there out of law school and put in several years, gaining invaluable experience in litigation, something they wouldn’t be allowed within a mile of at that stage of life in most large law firms. Then, if things go as planned, they accept an offer with a law firm where they can put those skills to work at much higher salaries than the taxpayers are willing to offer.
Sam Bittner was the exception-he was approaching 50 and had spent almost 25 years working as a prosecutor, rising to the highest level in the office below the DA himself. Since DA was an elected position, and Sam wasn’t a very political person, that was likely where he’d remain until retirement.
Sam and Stan had developed a strong relationship from the many cases they had worked on together over much of that time. He had met Barb more recently, taking her testimony on the Bronx Crux case, which had ended with the perps taking a plea bargain that would have them in prison until into their eighties if they lived that long.
So, Sam was, of course the person Stan wanted to talk to about this case, or putative case, to be more honest. Sam got up from his chair and strode towards the door, welcoming the two detectives into his office. Grasping Barb’s hand, he shook it heartily. “How are you doing, Detective Moore?”
“It was a lot of work, but I feel like I’m finally back to my old self,” Barb replied.
“Well, you look good, Barb.”
“Thank you, Sam.” Barb replied.
“No one ever said that about me,“ Stan added.
“Oh, you’re OK, I guess,” Barb said, winking at Stan.
“Have a seat,” Sam said. “You guys want some coffee?”
“Sure,” Stan replied. The coffee here was certainly better than the toxic waste at the precinct where they’d met with Brown and Connors.
“Would it be possible to have some tea instead?” Barb asked.
“Troublemaker,” Stan muttered.
“No trouble at all,” Sam replied, leaving to fetch them their beverages. Barb stuck her tongue out at Stan.
“Cute, Moore,” Stan quipped.
Sam returned with the beverages and a very attractive olive complexioned young woman with straight black hair. Stan and Barb stood to greet her. “This is Suzanna Rodriguez, one of the bright new ADAs in the office. I hope you don’t mind if she sits in.” She shook hands with the detectives.
“Not at all,” Stan said, giving her the head-to-toe once-over. He thought he caught Barb glaring at him, but perhaps he was mistaken. Suzanna pulled up a chair in front of Sam’s desk, joining the two detectives.
“So, to what do we owe this visit?” Sam asked. “Not that you guys aren’t always welcome to stop by. No more girls hanging naked on crosses, I hope.”
Stan glanced at Barb. “Not exactly, but close,” he said. “We have an eighteen year old female found hanging naked on a rope in the attic of her parents’ very lovely home in Riverdale. Charlie Yang says the cause of death was strangulation with said rope, with no sign of a struggle. He’s ruled it suicide.”
Bittner looked puzzled. “You want this office to get involved in a suicide, Stan? On what basis?”
Barb spoke up. “It’s a feeling Dr. Yang has that something didn’t seem right. There’s no note and no history of previous suicide attempts, depression or anything untoward according to her parents.”
“Barb, what most parents don’t know, or don’t want to know about their teenage kids would fill a book. Quite a few books, in fact.”
“I know that,” Barb said. “I’m pretty sure that anything she was thinking would be on-line in some place her parents wouldn’t know about and couldn’t access.”
“Have you looked at her phone and computer?” Sam asked.
Stan replied. “Her parents threw us out of the house before we could ask. They seem devastated and don’t want to talk about it. Maybe there’s some deep, dark family secret they’re ashamed of. I don’t know. They said she was gay, but that’s hardly a big deal these days. The mother’s a lawyer on the Street, so we aren’t going to be able to snow her. What are the odds we could get a warrant?”
Sam looked a bit taken aback. “You have a death ruled a suicide by the ME, with no signs of struggle. I can’t get a warrant based on ‘Charlie Yang feels something is amiss and there’s no note’. No note that you’ve seen, I might add, though that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. I’d be laughed out of court.”
He continued. “What crime are you alleging took place here exactly?” Stan thought about that and didn’t really have a good answer. Examined from the DA’s perspective, he could see how this whole thing looked a bit nuts.
“Suppose someone helped her?” Stan asked.
“Assisted suicide is a crime. Remember Dr. Kevorkian? That doc out in Michigan who helped terminally ill patients end it all. Eventually they got him for second degree homicide even though the guy gave written consent. But he actually stuck the needle in the guy’s arm and injected the drugs. Plus he was dumb enough to film it. But what evidence do you have that anyone else was involved here?”
“None,” Barb replied. “She could have affixed the rope all by herself, stuck her head in the noose, climbed on the chair and jumped. That’s quite possible.”
“And without evidence to the contrary, that’s the end of the story, isn’t it?”
“Let me ask you this, Sam?” Barb asked. She glanced at Suzanna who was diligently taking notes. “Suppose she’s thinking about suicide for whatever reason and confides that in someone, in person or on-line and they encourage her. When she expresses reluctance, they goad her on. Would that be a crime?”
Sam thought for a moment. “Possibly. It would depend on the circumstances. Maybe we could make Manslaughter or even Depraved Indifference Homicide. It might be a stretch, but I would give it a shot if Pete were on board.” Pete was Peter Salerno, Sam’s boss, the Bronx DA. “And this would be the kind of case that would draw media attention if it were taken to trial. You guys know all about that of course, so Pete would want to be very sure of winning. But it’s all academic until you bring me something, and, right now, you have nothing.”
“I agree with you, Sam,” Stan said. “Right now we have nothing. Except a decent cup of coffee,” he added, downing the remains and rising. “I’m sorry for bothering you with this.”
“Not at all, Stan,” Sam replied. “I always have time to catch up with my favorite detective and his partner. Charlie Yang is a smart guy and you’re not dumb for paying attention to what he says. There may be something here, but you’re going to have to dig deeper. And that’s Reggie’s call whether he wants you guys devoting your time to this.”
Barb stood, as did Suzanna Gonzalez. “It was great to meet you, Ms. Gonzalez,” she said. “I hope we’ll have the opportunity to work with you, if not on this case, then on some other one.”
“I’m sure we will, Detective,” the young ADA replied.
Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror, Goldman?
Blahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
“Not at all,” Stan said, giving her the head-to-toe once-over. He thought he caught Barb glaring at him, but perhaps he was mistaken. Suzanna pulled up a chair in front of Sam’s desk, joining the two detectives.
Kiss any ideas of sex tonight away, Goldman.
Code for we both would love to scratch each other's eyes out.
windar
Teller of Tales
You want me to kiss you, but no sex? We''ll see how that works out, Moore.
Two women fighting over me. Oohh, can I watch?
The plot of this evening is unexpectedly normal
The unexpected is always good. We like to build anticipation.
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
One has to be crucified first to get that compliment, Stan!
Code for we both would love to scratch each other's eyes out.
Two women fighting over me. Oohh, can I watch?
Has nothing to do with you, Stan! Woman is a wolf to woman, in all circumstances!
Really? Episode 6 and Barb not yet crucified? On CF, that's unexpectedly abnormal!The plot of this evening is unexpectedly normal
Like reading Karl May and Winnetou not yet showing up at page 200! Damn! It's Karl Marx I am reading!
windar
Teller of Tales
Those bitches
I had to look him up. Interesting-possibly the best selling German author of all time, writing about a Native AmericanReally? Episode 6 and Barb not yet crucified? On CF, that's unexpectedly abnormal!
Like reading Karl May and Winnetou not yet showing up at page 200!
hongzu117
Magistrate
I like anticipation.The unexpected is always good. We like to build anticipation.
One has to be crucified first to get that compliment, Stan!
Has nothing to do with you, Stan! Woman is a wolf to woman, in all circumstances!
Really? Episode 6 and Barb not yet crucified? On CF, that's unexpectedly abnormal!
Like reading Karl May and Winnetou not yet showing up at page 200! Damn! It's Karl Marx I am reading!
Like this？
I think you're really getting into the feel for the Moore character now.
After really getting a feel for the character.
So, we're looking for someone who is kinky, possibly trusted by Amanda so she got naked for him/her, and who convinced her to play at hanging, which either went wrong (not my favourite theory) or intended to kill her (either for kink or some other motive). We don't know anything was stolen, so perhaps it's not money. No forced entry so I suspect the killer (if there is one) was known to Amanda. Also, did anyone test the body for possible sexual activity before she was hanged? Everyone is running around going "I think it looks like a suicide, and I don't think the parents did it", but where's the hard evidence? Check the lab and the autopsy guys. These other cops are not being helpful.
Sorry that sounds perhaps needlessly critical. I like this story so far. Keep going.
I think you're really getting into the feel for the Moore character now.
After really getting a feel for the character.
So, we're looking for someone who is kinky, possibly trusted by Amanda so she got naked for him/her, and who convinced her to play at hanging, which either went wrong (not my favourite theory) or intended to kill her (either for kink or some other motive). We don't know anything was stolen, so perhaps it's not money. No forced entry so I suspect the killer (if there is one) was known to Amanda. Also, did anyone test the body for possible sexual activity before she was hanged? Everyone is running around going "I think it looks like a suicide, and I don't think the parents did it", but where's the hard evidence? Check the lab and the autopsy guys. These other cops are not being helpful.
Sorry that sounds perhaps needlessly critical. I like this story so far. Keep going.
Be patient and you shall see
windar
Teller of Tales
Many excellent questions. Barb says the answers will be revealed. I hope she's right. What I do know is we are about to set the record for a single thread of pictures of BM wearing clothes.
7.
Barb sat silently as Stan drove back to the station. “What’s the matter, sweetheart,” he said, as they waited at a red light.
“I don’t mind you looking Stan, but do you have to be so fucking obvious about it?”
“Whaddaya mean?” Stan replied, looking confused.
“You know damn well what I mean, Goldman. ADA Suzanna Rodriguez. You practically undressed her with your eyes.”
“Well, she was attractive, but she can’t compare with you, Moore.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, Goldman,” Barb replied, a tiny bit appeased by Stan’s belated semi-apology. “But Sam was pretty discouraging, don’t you think?” she added, changing the subject.
“Of course he was. And he’s right. We got bupkis. Charlie’s intuition isn’t a case.”
“I think we have to try to find her friends. Young women that age don’t confide in their parents; they confide in their friends.”
“I agree, Barb,” Stan replied. “We need to go down to the campus and talk to the people there. Was she skipping a lot of classes, into anything weird?”
“Absolutely,” Barb replied.
“But I think we need to set some kind of stopping place here. Reggie will cut us some slack, but I don‘t want to chase too far down a rabbit hole. At some point we may have to accept that she decided all by herself to end it all for no good reason.”
“I think that makes sense. If she seemed depressed or upset to her friends, we should probably drop it.”
Stan looked pensive for a moment. He continued driving for a few minutes more, then pulled up in front of a bodega. He came back with The Times and a couple of the tabloids. “Yeah, I’m a living dinosaur, Moore. I know I can read them on line, but sometimes I like the feel of good old-fashioned newsprint.”
Stan rustled through the relics of a bygone age until he found what he was looking for. “Here, you are, Moore. I figured that Charlie would have released the body late yesterday, so there should be an announcement.” He pointed to an item in the “Deaths” column:
Berger, Amanda was suddenly taken from us in the prime of life. Mourned by her parents, Steven and Karen Berger of Riverdale and by grandparents…Amanda had graduated from Bronx Research High this past June and was a freshman in Biology at Greenwich University. A memorial service will be held tomorrow at 10 AM at the Temple Beth Israel, Riverdale, New York…
“Suddenly in these announcements generally means either suicide or drug o.d.,” Stan said.
“We know that she was a suicide, Stan,” Barb replied, looking puzzled. “What does this add to what we know?”
“It’s an old police standby, Barb. You go to the funeral. You see who shows up, who sends flowers, what they say in the eulogy. You listen in discretely on conversations and maybe ask a few questions. It was generally done with Mafia funerals back in the day, but it might be useful here.”
“OK. So, we’ll go tomorrow?”
“Yeah, and you sit as close as you can to any girls around Amanda’s age and see what they’re saying about her. That could be very valuable. Are they shocked she killed herself or did someone see it coming? Without her phone and computer, it might be the best we have. In the meantime, we head down to Greenwich U and see if we can pick up anything useful there.”
The Detectives parked their car in the large ramp that served Greenwich University’s urban campus and made their way towards the Administration Building. The concrete walkways were crowded with students on this lovely fall day, unlike on that scorching summer day when Barb and Stan had come here to enquire about one of the crucified victims who had been a student here.
Their path led inevitably to the woman in charge of student records, Ms. Hopkins, with whom they had tangled on that previous visit. They hadn’t learned her first name that time and Stan doubted they would this time.
“Detectives, Moore and Goldman,” the middle-aged African-American woman greeted them. “I remember you from this summer and that terrible crucifixion murder of one of our students. I hope you are here on less horrifying business this time.”
“Unfortunately, Ms. Hopkins,” Stan answered, “I’m afraid we’re here regarding the death of another Greenwich student.”
Ms. Hopkins looked shocked. “Another student murdered? I haven’t heard anything about this.”
“Not a murder, at least so far as we know at present,” Stan said. “It’s about Amanda Berger.”
“Amanda Berger?” Ms. Hopkins looked puzzled. “The student who hung herself in her attic? I didn’t think that was a police matter.”
“Formally, it isn’t,” Barb replied. “It’s been ruled a suicide.”
The guardian of records still looked puzzled. “Then how can I help you?”
“There are a few loose ends that we’re trying to tie up. To bring closure to her parents,” Barb lied. “What can you tell us about her? Was she keeping up with her classwork?”
Ms. Hopkins thought for a moment. “She was a freshman. Her first semester here is barely half over, so none of the professors would have submitted any grades to our office yet. They would only submit final grades in December or even into January.”
“I figured that,” Barb replied. “Who were her professors? Would it be possible to speak with a few of them?”
Ms. Hopkins tapped a few keys on the computer on her desk. “She was a freshman Bio student, so most of her classes were introductory courses, Biology, Organic Chemistry and the like. The classes tend to be quite large and I don’t know if the professors would know who she was.”
“Would they have any grades for her at all?” Barb asked.
“Possibly some of them would have given a mid-term by now. I don’t know. You can go look for Professor Stark who teaches Intro Organic Chem. Don’t tell him I sent you.” Stan was pleased even with this tidbit, which was more than they’d gotten without a warrant in their previous encounter.
“What about clubs, sororities or other organizations?” Barb asked.
“Oh, we don’t keep track of that. I see her only address listed is her parents’ in Riverdale, so it seems she was a commuter, so there’s no roommate in the dorms, I’m afraid.”
“Well, thank you, Ms. Hopkins, you’ve been very helpful,” Barb said. Stan was glad for her diplomatic skills, as he had been on their previous case.
“As you might imagine, a suicide of a student is a terrible tragedy for our whole Greenwich community, perhaps even more so than a murder. Unfortunately, there are students who are depressed or anxious and when a fellow student kills themselves, some of them get the idea to copy them. Often there are clusters of suicides and we want to do everything we can to prevent that.”
“Speaking of depressed students,” Stan said, “Was Amanda depressed? Had she been for counselling?”
“You can ask at the Student Counselling Office. Of course they can’t know if she was receiving counselling elsewhere, which is quite possible for a student who lives locally.”
“It’s worth checking, though,” Stan replied. “Can you direct us to them?”
Ms. Hopkins gave the detectives directions to the counselling office and the Chemistry building.
Both turned into blind alleys. Amanda Berger had not been in to the Counselling Office during her brief time as a Greenwich student. Professor Stark had given a mid-term and Amanda had received a grade of 93%.
On their way out, Barb said, “Back in college, there were students who expected nothing less than 100%, but I really find it hard to believe she would have killed herself over a 93%.”
“Shit, Moore, I don’t know if I would have gotten 93% on a Chemistry exam if the answers had been pre-printed on the test. It seems to me we’re at a dead end here. But she’s only been on campus here a little over a month. She may not have made friends here. I think the death notice said she had graduated from Research High School back in June, didn’t it? They’d know her pretty well there, don’t you think?” Barb nodded. “That’s in the Bronx, pretty close to the station. What say you we stop over there on the way back?”
7.
Barb sat silently as Stan drove back to the station. “What’s the matter, sweetheart,” he said, as they waited at a red light.
“I don’t mind you looking Stan, but do you have to be so fucking obvious about it?”
“Whaddaya mean?” Stan replied, looking confused.
“You know damn well what I mean, Goldman. ADA Suzanna Rodriguez. You practically undressed her with your eyes.”
“Well, she was attractive, but she can’t compare with you, Moore.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, Goldman,” Barb replied, a tiny bit appeased by Stan’s belated semi-apology. “But Sam was pretty discouraging, don’t you think?” she added, changing the subject.
“Of course he was. And he’s right. We got bupkis. Charlie’s intuition isn’t a case.”
“I think we have to try to find her friends. Young women that age don’t confide in their parents; they confide in their friends.”
“I agree, Barb,” Stan replied. “We need to go down to the campus and talk to the people there. Was she skipping a lot of classes, into anything weird?”
“Absolutely,” Barb replied.
“But I think we need to set some kind of stopping place here. Reggie will cut us some slack, but I don‘t want to chase too far down a rabbit hole. At some point we may have to accept that she decided all by herself to end it all for no good reason.”
“I think that makes sense. If she seemed depressed or upset to her friends, we should probably drop it.”
Stan looked pensive for a moment. He continued driving for a few minutes more, then pulled up in front of a bodega. He came back with The Times and a couple of the tabloids. “Yeah, I’m a living dinosaur, Moore. I know I can read them on line, but sometimes I like the feel of good old-fashioned newsprint.”
Stan rustled through the relics of a bygone age until he found what he was looking for. “Here, you are, Moore. I figured that Charlie would have released the body late yesterday, so there should be an announcement.” He pointed to an item in the “Deaths” column:
Berger, Amanda was suddenly taken from us in the prime of life. Mourned by her parents, Steven and Karen Berger of Riverdale and by grandparents…Amanda had graduated from Bronx Research High this past June and was a freshman in Biology at Greenwich University. A memorial service will be held tomorrow at 10 AM at the Temple Beth Israel, Riverdale, New York…
“Suddenly in these announcements generally means either suicide or drug o.d.,” Stan said.
“We know that she was a suicide, Stan,” Barb replied, looking puzzled. “What does this add to what we know?”
“It’s an old police standby, Barb. You go to the funeral. You see who shows up, who sends flowers, what they say in the eulogy. You listen in discretely on conversations and maybe ask a few questions. It was generally done with Mafia funerals back in the day, but it might be useful here.”
“OK. So, we’ll go tomorrow?”
“Yeah, and you sit as close as you can to any girls around Amanda’s age and see what they’re saying about her. That could be very valuable. Are they shocked she killed herself or did someone see it coming? Without her phone and computer, it might be the best we have. In the meantime, we head down to Greenwich U and see if we can pick up anything useful there.”
The Detectives parked their car in the large ramp that served Greenwich University’s urban campus and made their way towards the Administration Building. The concrete walkways were crowded with students on this lovely fall day, unlike on that scorching summer day when Barb and Stan had come here to enquire about one of the crucified victims who had been a student here.
Their path led inevitably to the woman in charge of student records, Ms. Hopkins, with whom they had tangled on that previous visit. They hadn’t learned her first name that time and Stan doubted they would this time.
“Detectives, Moore and Goldman,” the middle-aged African-American woman greeted them. “I remember you from this summer and that terrible crucifixion murder of one of our students. I hope you are here on less horrifying business this time.”
“Unfortunately, Ms. Hopkins,” Stan answered, “I’m afraid we’re here regarding the death of another Greenwich student.”
Ms. Hopkins looked shocked. “Another student murdered? I haven’t heard anything about this.”
“Not a murder, at least so far as we know at present,” Stan said. “It’s about Amanda Berger.”
“Amanda Berger?” Ms. Hopkins looked puzzled. “The student who hung herself in her attic? I didn’t think that was a police matter.”
“Formally, it isn’t,” Barb replied. “It’s been ruled a suicide.”
The guardian of records still looked puzzled. “Then how can I help you?”
“There are a few loose ends that we’re trying to tie up. To bring closure to her parents,” Barb lied. “What can you tell us about her? Was she keeping up with her classwork?”
Ms. Hopkins thought for a moment. “She was a freshman. Her first semester here is barely half over, so none of the professors would have submitted any grades to our office yet. They would only submit final grades in December or even into January.”
“I figured that,” Barb replied. “Who were her professors? Would it be possible to speak with a few of them?”
Ms. Hopkins tapped a few keys on the computer on her desk. “She was a freshman Bio student, so most of her classes were introductory courses, Biology, Organic Chemistry and the like. The classes tend to be quite large and I don’t know if the professors would know who she was.”
“Would they have any grades for her at all?” Barb asked.
“Possibly some of them would have given a mid-term by now. I don’t know. You can go look for Professor Stark who teaches Intro Organic Chem. Don’t tell him I sent you.” Stan was pleased even with this tidbit, which was more than they’d gotten without a warrant in their previous encounter.
“What about clubs, sororities or other organizations?” Barb asked.
“Oh, we don’t keep track of that. I see her only address listed is her parents’ in Riverdale, so it seems she was a commuter, so there’s no roommate in the dorms, I’m afraid.”
“Well, thank you, Ms. Hopkins, you’ve been very helpful,” Barb said. Stan was glad for her diplomatic skills, as he had been on their previous case.
“As you might imagine, a suicide of a student is a terrible tragedy for our whole Greenwich community, perhaps even more so than a murder. Unfortunately, there are students who are depressed or anxious and when a fellow student kills themselves, some of them get the idea to copy them. Often there are clusters of suicides and we want to do everything we can to prevent that.”
“Speaking of depressed students,” Stan said, “Was Amanda depressed? Had she been for counselling?”
“You can ask at the Student Counselling Office. Of course they can’t know if she was receiving counselling elsewhere, which is quite possible for a student who lives locally.”
“It’s worth checking, though,” Stan replied. “Can you direct us to them?”
Ms. Hopkins gave the detectives directions to the counselling office and the Chemistry building.
Both turned into blind alleys. Amanda Berger had not been in to the Counselling Office during her brief time as a Greenwich student. Professor Stark had given a mid-term and Amanda had received a grade of 93%.
On their way out, Barb said, “Back in college, there were students who expected nothing less than 100%, but I really find it hard to believe she would have killed herself over a 93%.”
“Shit, Moore, I don’t know if I would have gotten 93% on a Chemistry exam if the answers had been pre-printed on the test. It seems to me we’re at a dead end here. But she’s only been on campus here a little over a month. She may not have made friends here. I think the death notice said she had graduated from Research High School back in June, didn’t it? They’d know her pretty well there, don’t you think?” Barb nodded. “That’s in the Bronx, pretty close to the station. What say you we stop over there on the way back?”