A Head Of The Game by David Hesse - HTML preview

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Chapter 8

The call I made at Rocco’s Pub was to a Jim Secetarski in Miami Florida. He was the owner of the house where that woman was decapitated and killed. He retired from Allis Chalmers and moved to Florida as fast as he could plow the snow out of his driveway. He said he rented the house to a Paul Godfrey. Mr. Godfrey gave him a cashiers’ check to cover the first years rent. And no, he never met him and didn’t care to as long as he kept paying his rent on time. It was better that he prepaid it.

“What about the utilities”? I asked.

“What about ‘em? They are in my name. The money he paid me covered them as well,” he said.

“Did you get any references or previous places where Mr. Paul Godfrey lived?”

“No sure didn’t. My brother still lives in Milwaukee and if Godfrey failed to live up to the lease agreement, he would see that he was evicted. That’s the least he could do for me as I let him and his fat wife freeload off me for two weeks every winter down here in Miami.”

“What’s this all about anyway?”

I hung up without answering his question. It felt good to be on the other end of a hang up for once. Sounds like a loving family, I thought to myself.

I would call Mildred in the morning and have her see what she could find on anyone named Paul Godfrey in Milwaukee. At least that was a starting point.  I was sure Harry knew who owned the flat already but I decided to call him and check.

I had his direct number into the homicide division. Emily Williams answered on the second ring and showed her usual love and concern for my well being as soon as she recognized my voice.

“Damn Max, we are busy now. Can I ignore you some other time?”

Everyone has to be a wise ass it seems.

“I’m just trying to help EJ. I found out who owns that flat and was going to pass that along.”

“Max, quit calling me EJ. Only my good friends call me that and you definitely don’t fall in that group. We know who the owner is and we know you already talked to him so go back to bed.”

The next thing I heard was the dial tone; another person who likes to hang up on me.

Well, at least she didn’t slam down the receiver.