McKenna by Robert F. Clifton (good beach reads .txt) 📕

“Is that it?”

“Yes Mam. That's it right now. Here is my typewritten report and naturally if and when something new pops up I'll let you know”.

“Fine. And by the way, don't rule out other homeless people as suspects just because he had money hidden on his person. The killer might have been scared off and didn't have time to take off the shoe.”

Kevin left the Captain's office and returned to his desk. When he got there he found John Collins waiting for him. “I got the glue”, said Collins.

Together and two hours later using long tweezers the two detectives meticulously pieced the plexiglass fragments, joining each piece that fitted to another other. When they were finished they had constructed an incomplete, convex shaped object. It appeared as a clear partial cup or bowl. “Well, there it is, but what the hell is it?”, asked Collins.

“I don't know, but I want photographs taken. While that's being done I'll type up a report”, said Mckenna.

On Friday, October 18, 2013, Sergeant McKenna

stood outside the classroom door of Whitney Nelson's third grade class. When the bell rang ending the teaching period Whitney Nelson followed the children out of the room. When she saw Kevin she smiled and said, “Don't tell me. I bet you have more questions to ask me?”

“As a matter of fact I do. Where would you like to have dinner tomorrow evening?”

“I usually have supper at the Mission. Do you find anything wrong with that?, she replied.

“No, except the fact that it's too public and I can't ask the questions that I want to ask”.

“I see. Well, knowing that the menu for tomorrow's supper is tuna casserole and salad you offer a much better choice. So I'll let you pick the place. However, you should know that by the time I finish cleaning it is usually late”.

“How late?”

“Like seven o'clock”.

“Suppose I help you clean up?”

“You're willing to do that?”

“Absolutely. I washed dishes when I worked my way through college”.

“Fine, then I'll see you tomorrow at the Mission House”.

“What time do you start serving?”

“Four”.

“See you then, unless I get called out on a case”.

“I understand”.

Back and headquarters Kevin sat looking at the convex plexiglass object he had taken out of the locked desk drawer. Collins saw him and said, “Come up with any idea what it is?”

“Not yet. I could be part of a headlight, the kind mounted on a ATV or a large flashlight”, McKenna answered.

“From what you told me about the injury to the victim he would have had to be laying down if he was hit by an ATV (All Terrain Vehicle)”.

“True, but you asked me for my ideas”.

“Yes I did. Then, if it was a flashlight, what kind was it?

A Kel-lite comes to mind. It is heavy. Swung fast enough and hard enough it could crack a man's skull”, said Collins.

“You might have something there. The Kel-lite was invented to replace the police baton. I never liked it as a replacement. Like you said, it is heavy enough to crack or break bones. A lot of officers began using it too freely resulting in brutality law suites,” said Kevin.

“Who found the body?”

“Bill Hampton”.

“Does he carry a Kel-light?”

“I don't know”.

“Better you check, old boy”, said Collins.

“I will, but let's look at the Kel-light on the internet. I want to see if they have a model with a convex lens cover. If they don't then we can rule it out as the murder weapon.”

Kevin swung his chair around and then facing the computer typed in the words, Kel-light images. After clicking on search in less then a minute, pictures of the Kel-light models of the flashlights manufactured and available for sale appeared. None had a convex lens cover. All were flat. “Well, that takes care of that idea”, he said.

“Then what the hell can it be?”, asked Collins.

“Whatever it was Mason was hit with enough force that it shattered the base of his skull. It also knocked him off of his feet. When that happened he skidded face down where he picked up a splinter in his nose from the boardwalk”.

“From what you're telling me it still points to something like an ATV”, Collins replied.

“Yeah, only that's not what killed him”.

The next day, Saturday Kevin drove downtown parked his car in front of Angelo's barbershop walked in and waited for a chair to empty. As he waited he read the few articles in the local paper written by news reporters who instead of presenting the facts gave their opinions which didn't amount to much. Nonetheless, those articles misinformed the public and that pissed him off. To him freedom of the press had become freedom to bullshit the people. As usual the writers criticized the police department for not protecting the citizens of Nautilus Beach. At the same time they were critical of the mayor and commissioners of the city for not doing enough to help the homeless and destitute. Kevin folded the newspaper and placed it back on the table next to him.

While he was having his hair cut he talked with the barber, Joe DeNato. Mostly they talked about the Philadelphia sports teams and in particular the Eagles and Phillies. Naturally Joe wanted to talk about Mason's murder and Kevin answered avoiding as many details as he could. Returning home he showered and dressed then drove to the Mission House.

McKenna smiled as Whitney handed him an apron. “I really didn't expect you to show up”, she said.

“One of the first things you will find about me is that I'm a man of my word. Besides we have a dinner engagement after we're done here. Remember?”

“Yes, I do. Come with me I want you to meet Reverend Simon. He is the director of Mission House. I told him all about you and how you are volunteering your time to help out here”.

“You shouldn't have told him that. He might expect me here all of the time”.

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

“Well, not if you're here at the same time”, Kevin answered with a smile.

Reverend Howard Simon seated at his desk looked up from the paper work he was doing when Whitney knocked lightly on the office door. “Whitney, how nice to see you. And, this must be the young police detective you were telling me about”.

“Yes, he is. Reverend this is Kevin McKenna. He is helping me in the kitchen today”, said Whitney.

Reverend Simon got up and walked around the desk. He shook hands with Kevin and said, “Young man, Thank you for coming in today. As you will learn we need all the help we can get. That goes for financing as well as manpower”.

“No need to thank me Reverend. Actually, I'm here to help Miss Nelson”.

“I see. Still, if it is just a one time thing we appreciate you being here”, Reverend Simon replied.

“Well, since he said he's here to help me I have a lot of pots and pans that need washing. I'll put him to work right now', said Whitney.

“Reverend, it was nice meeting you”, said Kevin as Whitney led him away.

As he entered the kitchen again he saw the large pans of tuna noodle casserole, salad, baskets of bread and two large pans of lemon Jello. Then, he saw the families. Men, women and children of various ages were standing in line waiting patiently to be admitted and fed. Behind the formation of families the homeless men began to take their place in line He walked to the deep sink turned on the hot water spigot and after adding detergent began to scrub and wash the pots that had been used for cooking.

At eight fifteen that evening Kevin and Whitney were seated by a large plate glass window that overlooked the parking lot of the Olympic Diner. Whitney studied the menu and looked up from the printed page when she felt Kevin watching her. “Is there something wrong?”, she asked.

“I hope not. I'm just wondering if you are disappointed that we didn't go to a better place to eat. Since I had no idea just when we would be finished at the mission I couldn't make reservations for an exact time. Knowing the places I would have liked to take you to I knew that the later dinner crowd would

have taken all of the good tables. That happens on Saturday nights”.

“Kevin, this is fine. Don't start treating me as if I'm some society girl like the one's you probably know. I told you, I grew up on food from charity kitchens. In college I lived on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I made them with bread that I bought at the Day Old Store. So, to me eating in a diner is thought of as a luxury”.

“You're sure?”

“I'm positive. Read your menu. I think I'll have the meatloaf”.

“That sounds good and by the way I don't know any society girls”.

After the waitress took their order Whitney took a sip of water and after placing the glass on the table said, “Now, just what do you want to ask me?”

“Oh, many things. I want to know all about you, your likes, dislikes, interests, hobbies habits both good and bad”.

“So you think I might have bad habits. Is that it?”

“No, it was just a figure of speech”.

“I thought you wanted to ask me questions in relation to Harvey Mason's murder”.

“I do and I will, but right now that can wait. That's work. This is pleasure and at the moment I'm off duty”.

Whitney smiled, “Alright my likes, let's see, I like people, children, my job, helping people, puppies and kittens. My dislikes? Snobs, that won't help the needy of society. Politicians that only take care of themselves and the rich. Religious leaders who are in truth, hypocrites and the list goes on'.

“Spoken like a true, Social Democrat”, said Kevin.

“That's twice now that you've used the word social in relation to me. When I first met you, you said I sounded like a social worker. Now, you referred to me as a social democrat”.

“If that offends you, I'm sorry. I mean no disrespect”.

“I'm not offended. I'm just pointing out the fact that you may think of me as a socialist. I'm sure you know that a true socialist is a member of a political party or wing that supports socialism. I do not belong to any such organization. However, I do believe in equality. Everyone should be able to have a job, an education, a roof over their head and three square meals a day. If that means I'm a socialist, then you may be right”.

“No, I don't think that you're a socialist, but I do believe that you are one beautiful optimist. I just hope that someday the people in this world are what you wish them to be”.

“Thank you. So, you think I'm beautiful”.

“Yep, you sure are”.

Chapter Three

Social Problems

Kevin McKenna walked into the main lobby of the Regal Hotel. When he reached the desk clerk the man behind the counter said, “Good day sir, welcome to the Regal. How may I help you?”

“I would like to see and speak with the head of hotel security”, McKenna answered.

“That would be Mr. Holtz. May I ask your name sir before I call him?”

“You may. It's Detective Sergeant Kevin Mckenna of the Nautilus Beach Police Department”,

“Thank you sir”.

Kevin watched the man push three numbers on the telephone and heard him mention his name and rank. Hanging up the telephone the desk clerk said, “Mr. Holtz ask that you come to his office. Take the elevator to the second floor. His office is at the end of the hallway”.

After stepping off of the elevator Kevin stood looking for the hotel security office. Every door in the second floor hallway was identical except one with frosted glass and he walked towards it. When he got to the door he knocked once turned the door knob and walked in. A balding, portly man sat behind a desk cluttered with