Project Moses - A Mystery Thriller (Enzo Lee Mystery-Thriller Series) Read Free Page A

Wong.
    “So…ahh…they sent me down to cover the dead judge,” Lee explained. “What’s her name? Is it Gilbert?”
    “You asking me to confirm the story, right, Scoop?” said the woman. “Don’t try to bullshit me now.”
    Lee glanced at his watch. He was out of time for bullshitting or anything else. His only hope was the direct approach.
    “Okay,” he said. “You’ve got it right. I’ve got a deadline in ten minutes. I’m desperate to confirm the story.”
    She thought for a minute.
    “Okay, Scoop. You’re right. The law clerk of Judge Miriam Gilbert found the judge dead in her chambers when she got to work this morning. We don’t know the cause of death. Stick around, I’ll probably have more in thirty.”
    “I’ll be here,” said Lee as he walked toward the nearest pay phone, scribbling on his notepad as he went. “And thanks. Say, what’s your name?”
    “Detective Bobbie Connors. Spelled like the tennis player.”
    •   •   •
    “ENZO!” THE VOICE of Ray Pilmann burst through the telephone and into his head.
    “Ray!” Lee replied. From the bank of telephones at one end, the third-floor corridor of the San Francisco Hall of Justice seemed like a massive tunnel. Looking toward the opposite end more than a city block away, Lee could see a cross section of the city’s citizenry, bored jurors, anxious defendants and tired lawyers waiting on the plain wood benches that lined the dungeon-like corridor.
    Lee noticed a few heads turn his way. It sounded like Pilmann was at his apoplectic worst. Some of the reporters had actually started a pool, betting on the time of day that Pilmann finally would have a coronary. Lee considered it wishful thinking, like throwing money into a wishing well. He had contributed thirty bucks.
    “What kind of bullshit story was that about the judge… whatshername?” said Pilmann
    “Gilbert.”
    “Yeah. What is this bullshit?”
    “It’s called deadline reporting, Ray. You knew the situation. It’s called busting my ass to get any kind of story at all.”
    “Yeah. But what did she die from? Was she killed? Did she kill herself? You can’t tell from this story. Was she hacked to death or did she choke on a piece of meat? What’s the story for the next edition?”
    Christ, thought Lee. The story was turning into a four-alarm disaster. The next edition?
    “Uhh…well…it looks like natural causes,” said Lee. “No obvious signs of violence or trauma. She was at her desk. It looks like she had a heart attack or a stroke or something.”
    “Natural causes?” said Pilmann. “What about suicide? She was a widow, right? Was she depressed?”
    “Her husband died – I don’t know - years ago,” said Lee. “Her clerk said she seemed fine. There was no note.”
    “What about drugs? Did they find any drugs?”
    Lee delayed answering for a few seconds. “They found half a bottle of Darvon in her purse,” he finally admitted.
    “What?” yelled Pilmann. “They find drugs and you aren’t going to write about it?”
    “C’mon, Ray. It’s Darvon, a prescription painkiller. A lot of people use it. Besides, it was more than half full. If she wanted to kill herself, why leave most of the bottle?”
    “Half empty, half full! What is this, a goddamn riddle?” Pilmann was shouting now. “It sounds like suicide to me! She’s lonely! On the bench all day! Married to her work! No one to go home to at night! You got to work in the goddamn drugs! Get the suicide angle and have it ready for the next edition!”
    “Do you want me to announce the Second Coming, too?” said Lee.
    “Yeah! If you got time, yeah! But get this fucking story first!” Pilmann slammed down the phone. Lee sighed, then banged his hand against the faux marble partition harder than he intended. The sound echoed down the dim corridor and more people looked his way. Lee put in a quarter to call back the paper. He still wasn’t sure when the next deadline was.

Chapter 3
    THE FIRST