ChapterOne
Captain Frank Carr of Homicide received an early morning call about a murder that happened at the Hopper Hotel in Los Angeles. He knew Detectives, Michiko Satou and Nancy King were his best detectives and Carr wanted to put them on the case without delay. Soon after the detectives arrived Captain Carr informed them that the victim, John Morgan, was a well known figure in LA and they needed to be cautious about informing his wife, Susan. King and Satou were already girding themselves for the difficult news, but for now they needed to question eyewitnesses.
The forensic people had already secured the crime scene and had put witnesses on the third floor for the detectives to question. Just as Satou entered the room, a young man approached Satou noticeable shaken by the murder and was dressed in the hotel’s bellhop uniform. It was his bad luck to have been directly outside John Morgan's door when the incident occurred.
“I’m Andy Vargas,” the youth offered hesitantly.
“Hello Andy.” Satou said, “I understand you saw the shooting?”
“It was awful.” Andy said with his eyes closing as if to blot out the dreadful shooting.
Noticing splatters of blood still on his shirt, Satou wondered if the kid knew how close he had come to have been lying lifeless beside the victim.
“Do you know the person who shot Mr. Morgan?”
With a pained expression he stiffened and started gripping his hands together and said, “I never saw her before, but it…it was a woman…maybe thirty. I…I don’t really know.”
“Do you remember what she looked like?”
“She was pretty…ah…long hair and tall…you know, kind of like a model. When I first noticed her, she reminded me of a flight attendant because of the blue suit she was wearing. After that…it…it happened so fast.” He looked at Satou with melancholy eyes. “I'm not sure…”
“Where was she when you first saw her?”
Twisting one side of his mouth in pause, he looked down. It was obvious that Andy was young and clearly shaken from seeing John’s face blown away. “I…I remember seeing her get off the elevator and walk down the hall toward me.”
“Was she carrying a gun?”
“Not then, but…well, I…I knocked on Mr. Morgan’s door and when he opened it, I told him I was there to pick up his luggage. He stepped out and then he looked past me with a shocked expression, so I looked over my shoulder. It was then that I…I…saw her, the same woman, pointing a gun at us. I…I jumped out of the way and as I did, I heard 2 or 3 shots. By the time I stood up she was running away. God…oh God…blood splattered all over me and the walls…I…It…it was awful. I heard screams. Guests…were…were running in different directions,” he whimpered while his hands twisted his blood stained shirt into knots. His body began to tremble and then he started crying. Satou knew he had had enough. She closed her notebook and asked, “Could you identify her if you saw her again?”
The youth trembled and continued to cry. There wasn’t much more he could tell them, Detective Satou realized.
“You're an eyewitness to a murder. Your information could be vital.” She slipped her card into his hand, “please call if you remember anything else.”
“I....I think I could…if…if I saw her again,” he said.
“Okay, look Andy, that‘ll be all for now. You should get out of those clothes.”
Wiping his nose with the back of his hand, he stopped crying. Satou left him standing in a gloom and went looking for King. Poor kid, he’s pretty shaken. She hurried to the third floor where she knew King was questioning witnesses. As she stepped off the elevator, she saw her at the end of the hallway walking in to the conference room with a short heavyset blonde, who the hotel manager had said knew John. As Satou entered the room, she saw them sitting at a small table in the corner of the room. She observed the woman sitting next to King. She looked to be in her late fifties and gave the impression to be genuinely upset by the news of John. Satou sat down next to King and pulled out her notebook. “Yes, I knew John. You see, I‘m a psychologist who helps
with the hiring for different organizations all over California. John hired me several times, you know, to interview his prospective employees. After that I met his wife…err…Carol. No…Carolyn. We had dinner together a few times, but I haven’t seen her or John recently.”
“Hi, I’m Detective Satou, King’s partner. I heard you mention John’s wife as Carolyn. Are you certain of that?”
“Why yes, I know Carolyn.”
King picked up her water bottle, took a swig and then said, “Satou this is Rosemary Masterpolo.”
Satou nodded and asked. “Could you describe Carolyn for me, Rosemary?
“Of course I can. She’s young, maybe in her early twenties, wavy hair, pale blue eyes…why? Is there a problem with Carolyn?”
“No…no problem,” Satou said, then excused herself and got up to peer around the doorway to see what the ruckus was about.
King looked up and asked, “any problems out there Satou?”
“No, just kids playing in the hallway. Continue with the questioning King, I’ll be right back.”
King turned back to Rosemary and asked, “Did you see John shot?”
She tilted her head and said, “No, I was out of the hotel, but I heard people talking about it. Oh, you might want to talk with my friend, Mrs. Goldberg. She knows John better than I do, but she left last night. I have her phone number if you’d like it.”
“Please.”
Rosemary scribbled Mrs. Goldberg’s number on a piece of paper and handed it to King. After slipping it in her briefcase she looked up and said, “Rosemary, we might need to get in touch with you at a later date. Do you have a card?”
“Yes I do.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a card
and handed it to King. “Are you through with me for now?”
“Yes. Thanks for your help.”
King leaned back in her chair pulling her hair high on top of her head and blew out a whistling breath as Satou came in and sat down. “I’m beat. Did you finish with the bellhop?” King asked.
“Yeah, the kid is clearly traumatized.”
“Understandable. From what I gather the victim was shot twice in the head at close range, leaving not much of his face,” replied King.
“Yeah, it’s a vicious case. Are you ready to go see Susan Morgan?”
King looked at her watch and realized it was late; they’d have to hurry to beat reporters knocking on the Morgan door.
“Yep, my car is parked in front of the hotel.”
“Let’s go then.”
By 10’oclock the detectives pulled up in front of Susan Morgan‘s private community. Noticing it was chic and top of the notch homes with BMW’s and Mercedes parked in long driveways, King let out a whistle and said, “Some classy neighborhood, huh, Satou?“
Satou chuckled and looked at her partner and said, “classy and out of our range.”
King laughed and said, “The mortgage payment is probably more than I make in a quarter.”
“That or more, I suspect. Look King, there‘s 433. Take a look at that rose garden.”
After admiring the garden for a moment, they hurried to Susan’s front yard, lingering long enough to straighten their clothing then climbed the stairs and rang the doorbell. Satou noticed a middle aged woman looking at them through the window. Satou prepared herself to do what was the hardest part of her job, informing a surviving partner. Recently there had been similar incidents; too many. But not as well known as the John Morgan case. Hearing movement of feet quickening to the door, she put on her best poise and waited. An attractive middle aged woman, who was about forty pounds overweight, greeted them with a curious expression. “Hello, I’m Detective Satou and this is my partner Detective King. We’re with the LAPD and we’re here to see Susan Morgan,” the detective said as she flashed her gold plated detective’s badge and handed the woman a card.
“Oh…well…let me get…”
Satou saw an attractive woman with shimmering shoulder length hair step forward while tightening the belt on her housecoat. With swollen and creased eye lids, she looked as if she had just stepped out of bed. Many would consider her beautiful with her high cheek bones, creamy complexion and the body of a model. Anyone could see she was a classy woman. Moving in closer to the door she said, “Hello, I’m Susan Morgan.”
Detective Satou moved up closer to Susan and said, “Mrs. Morgan, may we come in?”
“Please do come in.”
“Is John Morgan your husband?” Satou asked.
“Yes, but he isn’t here. He’s out of town. What‘s this about?”
“We’re here to talk to you, Mrs. Morgan. Please…may we sit somewhere?”
Perplexed with a surge of emotion storming through her,
Susan pointed to a well lighted room. “Please, of course. I’m sorry.”
The room had a warm atmosphere and decorated modestly. A leather couch set across from two matching chairs and was
simple, yet elegant with pale shades of beige and yellow. Books lay across a glass coffee table and King noticed many were gardening and women magazines. An open copy of Morgan Fashion Magazine lay on the chair as if recently someone had been reading it.
“Please,” Susan said as she pointed to the couch and chairs. Satou smiled and sat down, then began shuffling through papers in her briefcase, looking for her notebook. Finally pulling it out, she looked over at her partner. King knew Satou would be the one to inform Susan of the dreadful shooting while her own part was to observe Mrs. Morgan’s reactions. Satou looked down at her notebook long enough to collect her thoughts, then took in a deep breath and blew it out while trying to slow down her racing mind. She looked into Susan’s unsure eyes and said, “Mrs. Morgan, your husband was shot earlier this morning at Topper Hotel.”
Susan gasped and said, “Topper Hotel?”
“Yes, Mrs. Morgan.”
“Is he alright? What hospital is he at? I must go to him.”
“No Mrs. Morgan. Your husband has been killed.” Susan jerked her head up while dragging her feet in closer to her chair, then began clutching her hands tightly together and shrieked back in her chair. Shattered by the news, she paled and gradually lowered her head. After a moment, she looked up to see the detective’s serious expression while telling Susan about the ghastly shooting. Speechless, Susan moved over to the window, looking out at the roses then murmured, “Do you know who shot him?”
“No, we don’t, but witnesses said she was young and probably in her thirties,” replied Satou.
Susan knitted her eyebrows together, whirled around and looked straight into Satou‘s eyes and said, “Oh...I...I see…When can I see my husband? View his body? Maybe…it…it wasn’t John. I want to see him…to know.”
“You may see him later today or tomorrow, although it might be better to wait until tomorrow. I’m sorry Mrs. Morgan, but it was definitely your husband. He had identification on him, plus the hotel manager recognized him.” Satou opened her notebook, wrote down the phone number Susan would need and handed her the small piece of paper. “Just call this number Mrs. Morgan, to make sure they’re ready for you to identify him. Do you need us to call someone, maybe a family member or friend?”
Susan murmured, “No,” and looked down at the floor. Detective King stood up and moved over closer to her partner. Susan’s face was visibly pale and she looked as if she might faint, but she quickly grabbed the back of the chair, stepped around and sat down. Immediately dropping her head into her hands, she moaned. Then she quickly looked up and in a troubled voice, asked, “Where was he shot…I mean…what part of his body?”
Satou looked into Susan’s pained eyes and said, “In the head Mrs. Morgan.”
Susan’s body became frozen while breathing slowly, yet deeply, feeling stunned and traumatized. Myra, her housekeeper assistant had been standing in the doorway long enough to know John had been shot and killed. She hurried over to Susan and kneeled down in front of her and began rubbing her arm. “I’m here honey …I’m here. I won‘t leave you.”
Satou asked again if there was anything they could do. Susan didn’t answer. Myra shook her head and said, “No detective. Thank you. I can handle this.”
Satou nodded at her partner and then they quietly left.
