• Sign up or login, and you'll have full access to opportunities of forum.

The Bronx Crux Murders

Go to CruxDreams.com
And as I understand it, von Choltitz is remembered as the last German governor of Paris, who defied a direct order from Hitler to burn the city to the ground and instead surrendered it to the Free French forces (although it's hard to think of an occupying General who simply refuses to destroy it as the "Saviour of Paris"). He spent some time at a prisoner camp (Camp Clinton) in Mississippi and was released in 1947. He returned to visit Paris in 1956.

Interestingly though I don't think he made the claim until 1964, a timing of such a "confession" which struck those who had experienced the intensity of the fighting from the other side as rather self serving.
 
26.
Approximately three months later

La Table de Michel on East 73rd Street, one of New York’s best restaurants, with two Michelin stars and working on a third, was most definitely not the type of place Stan was used to eating at. The $250 tasting menu was not something a policeman, even a senior detective, could normally afford. But the bill was being picked up by his publisher, something he never dreamed he’d ever have, any more than he had imagined himself downing foie gras while sipping a lovely Burgundy.

In fact, Stan could have afforded this meal, because he and Barb had just signed a book deal with a $400,000 advance, split between the two of them, with sales-based royalties that could earn them considerably more. The Bronx Crux Murders, as they had been dubbed by the press were the most celebrated crime story in many years and the book they were going to write (or, to be precise, that was going to be written for them by the noted Irish American author, Sean McNeil) was a hot property.

Within days of their breaking the case, Stan had fielded over a dozen calls from literary agents. After some deliberation, he and Barb had chosen Debbie Levine, an experienced agent who had handled several celebrity biographies. She was joining them at this dinner, along with their editor, Jessica Schuster, a young, attractive blond Ivy League grad, and Sean McNeil, to celebrate the inking of the contracts.

As the waiters were bringing dessert and cognacs, Sean, who had been listening raptly to the two detectives, taking notes so he could work on a preliminary outline, interjected, “So, Stan, what happened with Donnelly and Gerhart?”

Stan took a sip of the cognac. “Not bad,” he thought. “I could get used to this.” Then, the warmth spreading through his chest, he began, “We weren’t sure that Barb’s nod was enough for an arrest, but we didn’t want them fleeing the country. So we put round-the-clock surveillance on them. Those trauma guys are miracle workers these days and by the next morning, she was talking. She hasn’t stopped since then, by the way.” The entire group broke into laughter and Barb kicked Stan hard under the table.

“Anyway, we brought a judge up to her hospital room and she was sworn in and gave her deposition. The judge signed an arrest warrant for kidnapping, attempted murder, aggravated assault and a host of other charges. Reggie was there and asked me which of them I wanted. I decided that it might be better for a Catholic cop to bust the priest, so I took Donnelly and he sent Albanese to bust the Father.”

“Of course, before we went, we tipped off our favorite reporters and did the full perp walks on live TV. Both went round the world within 20 minutes.”

“That must have felt good, Stan,” Sean said.

“I’ve made hundreds of arrests in my career, but none even came close to that one.”

“So what’s happening with them?”

Stan looked at Barb, “You’re a good explainer. Why don’t you see if you can explain how these things work?”

Now it was Barb’s turn to take a good sip of cognac. “Of course, we went through their phone records and came up with plenty of calls between the two of them and plenty of calls between Donnelly and Jake. The problem is that Gerhart and Donnelly had met many times over the years at conferences on Early Church History and the like and a good lawyer could argue they were simply discussing matters relevant to that, as they had in the past.”

“As for the calls with Jake, he’s a contractor and had done a lot of work on Donnelly’s house up in Scarsdale. That seems to be how they met. Those carpentry skills came in handy for building those sets and for the crosses, of course. We think Tiny, Jake’s cousin, wasn’t involved in the planning, but was just called in by Jake after I broke his arm.”

“I was wondering how two intellectuals like Donnelly and Gerhart hooked up with two knuckleheads like them.”

“That seems to be what happened,” Barb replied. She continued, “Their computers weren’t much help either. They were smart enough never to email about anything related to this plot. They must have kept the drafts of their manifesto only on a zip drive or a tablet or some other device which we have never found; it’s probably at the bottom of the Hudson. They both had visited plenty of sites related to crucifixion, but again, they could argue those were related to their scholarly research. And we couldn’t convincingly show fingerprints or DNA of theirs at the crime scenes. They were careful.”

“Donnelly’s a lawyer, of course, and has a pretty good idea what evidence is needed to get a murder conviction,” Stan added. “The lab was able to identify Jake’s DNA at both of the two earlier crucifixions, as well as at Barb’s. It seems Donnelly and Gerhart’s plan was to set him up to commit suicide by cop so he couldn’t give them up. That part worked out perfectly. The only thing they didn’t count on was this one surviving,” he said nudging Barb. “She has a way of screwing up the best of plans.”

Barb punched Stan hard in the arm. “Like you’re such a genius,” she said. “You just lucked into saving me.”

“Napoleon said, ‘I’d rather have generals who are lucky, than ones who are good’. I guess that goes for detective partners too,” Stan told her. Barb stuck her tongue out. “Cute,” Stan said.

“What about the video they shot?” Sean asked, bringing the discussion back to business. “They must have shot some at the first two crucifixions as well.”

“No doubt, they did,” Barb replied. “We found a camera at Donnelly’s house, but the memory card in it had only footage from his last trip to Italy. We have been unable to find the video card with the crucifixions. Every time we asked him, the fucker just smiled like the cat that ate the canary.”

“Were you able to trace the nails they used to nail the victims?” the writer inquired.

“They’re common hardware items,” Stan answered. “There’s nothing unusual about a contractor having those.”

“And what about the whips?” Sean asked. “Surely those aren’t sold at Home Depot?

Barb exchanged a look with Stan. “We’ve been doing a bit of research on that in the last few months,” she said, smiling. “There’s quite a selection of sites on line that sell that type of thing. Really an amazing variety of implements you can use to whack your beloved. Unfortunately, none of those sites have a record of sales to any of our culprits. We’ve hit every leather shop in the city with pictures of our guys and no one recognized them. Donnelly travels quite a bit to conferences and he could have bought them anywhere he’s been. On a lark, we had the San Francisco PD take his mug shot around the sex shops out there and they found a clerk who maybe, possibly recognized him. But any competent defense counsel would shred his testimony on the witness stand.”

“And the guns are untraceable, probably stolen down South and sold up here on the black market.” Stan added. “This is America; more guns than people. Anyway,” he added, “The DA decided that convicting them on those two murders was going to be tough, but with Barb’s ID we had them cold on the charges relating to her abduction. In the end, they’ve accepted a plea deal on all the charges and will get 25 years to life. At their ages, they’ll likely die in prison. As far as the Department is concerned, the case is solved.”

“So, you’re saying that if you’d gotten there a bit later and this young lady hadn’t survived, they might have gotten away with it?” the writer asked.

“It’s possible,” Stan said. He reached out and took Barb’s hand in his. “We’ll never know for sure. I would have kept working it until the cows came home and maybe gotten a break at some point, who knows? But I think we can all agree that’s it’s a good thing we don’t have to worry about that.”

“Amen!” Sean replied, picking up his glass and taking a healthy swallow of the amber liquid. “And what about their motive-did they really believe that nonsense or did they just get their jollies torturing young women?”

Barb looked at Stan before replying. “We’ve interviewed them several times. They continue to claim this was a political act, but I have my doubts. We can see about arranging an interview so you can judge for yourself. At the end of the day, it was likely a bit of both. I’m pretty sure that the idea was originally Donnelly’s and when he ran into Gerhart at seminars, he found the priest only too willing to join. They both definitely don’t like women, for whatever reason and that seems to have been the case with Jake also.”

“And what about you, Barbara?” Sean asked. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing OK now, Sean,” she replied. “Trauma surgeons are wizards these days, as Stan said. Many of them worked in Iraq and Afghanistan and a few holes in the hands and feet are nothing compared to what they saw there.”

“It’s taken three surgeries and quite a bit of physiotherapy, but I finally have more or less full function in my hands.” Barb held them out so the writer could examine them. “It’s hard to see much in here, with it being so dark, but if you look in the light, you can definitely see some scars. But, if I said I was in a car accident, no one would doubt that. I can show you my feet too, if you’d like.”

“Perhaps in private some time,” Sean said to general laughter. Once everyone was quiet again, he asked, “Have you been back at work since?”

“Honestly, no. I’ve been on paid leave recovering. Besides, there have been so many interviews, media events, meetings with the Mayor, the Governor, etc., awards dinners, that I haven’t yet,” Barb replied, “We’re great PR for the department. We even did a couple of benefits for Lourdes Diaz and raised enough to give her a decent life. I probably wouldn’t be here if not for her.”

“If the book is a huge success, and I intend to do my best to see that it is, neither of you may need to work as detectives again,” Sean said.

“I’ve been saving this to tell you now,” Debbie said, “But Hollywood is interested.” Stan wondered who would play him in a movie. He did like George Clooney. “And you guys are almost national heroes in China. There’s some talk you two are being considered for the Order of Friendship, the national honor for foreigners, for catching Min Jiao’s killers.”

“I’d settle for an order of kung pao chicken,” Stan said to uproarious laughter by the slightly tipsy group.

“Lines like that are why I hang out with this nasty old guy,” Barb said to more guffaws.

“More importantly,” Debbie added, “I’ve been talking with Chinese publishers and they think they can sell a bundle over there. So as soon as you have something, Sean, we need to get going on the Mandarin translation. Bottom line is, with any luck at all, you two will be set for life.”

Stan looked at Barb. Barb looked at Stan. “That’s great,” Stan said, “I’ve got the paperwork for retirement on my desk and this just might be the time. I think I’ll use some of the money for a nice little cabin in the woods, like Dick has. After all, this young lady did something not very nice to this old bastard and I haven’t properly punished her for it yet, because that’s a bit hard to do in an apartment where the neighbors can hear everything you do. And I know just where to order everything I need.”

Barb punched Stan hard in the arm. “Oh yeah? Well what about the fact that you were awfully slow finding me. Maybe you ought to see what it’s like to hang from a cross like I did,” she said with an evil grin.

“Stranger things have happened,” Stan replied.

“Yes, they have,” Barb said. “They have, indeed.”


Finis
I'm sorry, I missed the ending! :doh:

It was one bloody good story, and Barb can notch up one more survived crucifixion. She should have a Wikipedia page, giving a full list of her crucifixions, fatal and survived!

Be that as it may, Hollywood want to make a movie! :)

:popcorn:

But many thanks to you both for an exceptionally entertaining story!

:beer::beer::clapping::clapping::clapping::clapping::beer::beer:
 
I'm sorry, I missed the ending! :doh:

It was one bloody good story, and Barb can notch up one more survived crucifixion. She should have a Wikipedia page, giving a full list of her crucifixions, fatal and survived!

Be that as it may, Hollywood want to make a movie! :)

:popcorn:

But many thanks to you both for an exceptionally entertaining story!

:beer::beer::clapping::clapping::clapping::clapping::beer::beer:
A full list, eh? Hmmmmmm :rolleyes:
 
I'm sorry, I missed the ending! :doh:

It was one bloody good story, and Barb can notch up one more survived crucifixion. She should have a Wikipedia page, giving a full list of her crucifixions, fatal and survived!

Be that as it may, Hollywood want to make a movie! :)

:popcorn:

But many thanks to you both for an exceptionally entertaining story!

:beer::beer::clapping::clapping::clapping::clapping::beer::beer:

Thanks, Wragg. Maybe the Coen Brothers would like this story. They like odd means of killing-feeding into a wood chipper, cattle stunners...

Barb is getting good at surviving these days. It seems even Stalin, who happily dispatched millions, may have balked at shooting BM...:D:rolleyes:
 
Thanks, Wragg. Maybe the Coen Brothers would like this story. They like odd means of killing-feeding into a wood chipper, cattle stunners...

Barb is getting good at surviving these days. It seems even Stalin, who happily dispatched millions, may have balked at shooting BM...:D:rolleyes:
Stop reading ahead!
 
4.
When I got to my desk, Moore was sitting across from me at Dick’s desk. She was early thirties, brunette, very attractive in an intellectual kind of way. The kind of girl you could bring home to meet your family and then fuck her brains out.

She rose to greet me. “Detective Goldman,” she purred, “I hope it’s OK to use Detective Leary’s desk while he’s on vacation. Chief Jones asked me to draft a press release with the victim’s picture. Of course, you will need to approve it before it goes out.”

“Yeah, sure, Moore, that’s fine,” Stan said gruffly.

“You can call me Barbara or even Barb, Detective Goldman.”

“Stan,” Stan said somewhat reluctantly. He supposed it would be awkward if he called her “Barb” and she called him “Detective Goldman” even if he was old enough to be her father. Though the stirrings in his groin as he looked at her lithe figure were anything but fatherly.

“This is an incredible case, isn’t it?” Barb said. “Who would imagine a crucifixion in this day and age?”

“Not me, that’s for sure,” Stan replied.

“Well, I’d better finish this press release,” Barb chirped. Stan sat down and began organizing his files. It wasn’t more than a few minutes later when Barb announced, “Would you mind having a look at this, Detective Goldman, I mean Stan?”

Stan got up and moved behind Barb, bending over her so he could see the computer screen. Her hair smelled very nice; he wondered what shampoo she used. Then he imagined her in the shower, applying the suds to her soft brunette hair. “Does it look OK? She asked, breaking his reverie.

Stan forced himself to read the release and look at the picture of the victim. “Yeah, looks fine. Send it to the Department’s Public Relations section for final approval and then let’s see what happens.” He stood up slowly, his back aching, feeling old by contrast with Moore, something he never felt working with Dick.

Once the release was on its way, Stan went over with Barb what he knew about the case so far, such as it was. He was impressed with the questions she asked-he supposed Reggie was right about her being a smart cookie. As they were winding up, the phone rang. He picked it up. “Detective Goldman,” he said.

“That girl in the picture, that’s my girlfriend,” a male voice announced.

“Who is this?” Stan asked.

“My name is Brian Coburn,” he said. “That’s Jennifer Chalmers, my girlfriend.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“When did you see her last?”

“Last Thursday, in the morning, before I left for work.” Today was Tuesday so that was five days ago. “Later in the day, she texted me that her father was sick back in Pittsburgh and she was going to see him. I got texts from her every day that he was in the hospital but getting better and yesterday she said she might come back tomorrow, which is today now. But that’s the last I heard from her. I texted her earlier today and got no answer. I just assumed she was on the train and the service sucked. Then, I saw her picture on my news feed.”

“No voice communication during that time, then?” Stan asked.

“No, just texts. That’s usually how we communicate.”

“Kids today,” Stan thought. Barb was probably like that too. “And did you speak with her parents?”

“No. We’ve only been going out for a couple of months and I hadn’t met them. I had no reason to doubt her story. And now you say she’s dead? And crucified? That’s insane.”

“We’re going to have to ask you to identify the body, because we haven’t found anyone else who knows her,” Stan said. “Where are you?” He gave an address in Brooklyn. “Stay there, Brian. We’ll come and get you and take you to her. It should take a half hour or so. Give me your number so I can reach you if we’re delayed, OK?” Stan jotted the number down on a scrap of paper. “Sit tight. See you soon,” he said before hanging up the phone.

Barb looked at him, interested. “The boyfriend,” Stan said. “But apparently she’s been texting him the whole time. Told him she was in Pittsburgh visiting her sick father.”

“Or the bad guys had her phone and were using it to make people who knew her think she was in Pittsburgh so we wouldn’t be looking for her.”

“Very possible, Barb. Anyway, this may be the first break we’ve gotten. Let’s go,” Stan said, raising his tired old body out of his chair. “Off to see the sights of beautiful Brooklyn on this lovely afternoon.”

Just started reading. You have me hooked!

This could be subtitled as "A Barbara Moore Mystery"
 
I came upon this trailer for a movie based on a Stephen King story, that reminded me of a certain scene in this thread. I think people may enjoy watching this


And in case anyone is wondering, I have never read the story and this is the first I've seen of the movie, so I plead not guilty to stealing the idea.:cool:
 
Yikes. Gerald's Game.

As a high school sophomore in 1970 I got hold of an issue of Playboy. After finishing up with the pictures I found a short story by an author I'd never heard of, some dude named King.

I read it, and didn't sleep for a week.

As a bookstore clerk for five years and a librarian for thirty, I know all about his books. I can tell you the plots. I admire his talent. He makes more than I do. But I have never since that short story in Playboy read so much as a semicolon by Stephen King.

I don't do horror. Passing strange for a crux perv, but there you are.
 
Back
Top Bottom