The Abduction of Margaret O’Shea
A Kenneth Hall Mystery
 

 by: Hankster

© 2018 by the author

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

hankster@tickiestories.us

Chapter 5

Ken located Rose Gustafson easily enough.  There were three of them in the phone book, and one actually lived at the same address as when she worked at the sperm bank.  He decided to pay her a visit, but first, he googled her.  He learned that living at the same address, at one time or another, were Milton Gustafson and Sharon Gustafson.  Ken wondered if Sharon could be Rose’s daughter, and the imposter.

It was the Friday after Thanksgiving, and most people had the day off.  Ken didn’t know if Rose worked or not, but he took a chance that she was home.  He could have phoned first, but over time he found that surprise visits were the most effective.

Rose lived in a duplex on the street level.  Ken rang the bell, and silently prayed that she was home. She was.  A very pretty woman in her late forties answered the bell.  Ken flashed his badge and identified himself.

Rose looked frightened.  “What can you want of me?” she whimpered.  “I haven’t broken any laws.”

If she stole the list of sperm donors, she had indeed broken the law, but Ken said kindly, “Of course, you haven’t broken any laws, but you may have information that will help me in an investigation.  May I come in?”

She allowed Ken in and sat him on the sofa in the living room.  “Would you like a cup of coffee?” she asked.  Ken politely declined.

“What can I possibly help you with?” she asked, looking very frightened again.

“It concerns the time when you worked at the sperm bank,” Ken began.

“Oh my God; you found out,” Rose said, and she started to cry.

Ken played it cool.  He was about to ask, “Found out what?” but instead he said, “Yes, we found out, but we would like to hear your side of the story.”

Rose sniffled.  “Yes, of course” she said.   “My husband and I tried for three years to get pregnant, but it didn’t happen.  We went to a fertility doctor, who determined that Milt’s sperm count was so low that conception was virtually impossible.  In vitro fertilization was new at the time, but it was being widely used and accepted.  We inquired the cost, and we were told ten thousand dollars a shot.  If it didn’t work the first time, it would cost ten thousand dollars for each retry.”

“Wow,” Ken remarked, “I had no idea it was that expensive.”

“Yes it was and there was no way we could afford it.  One day five men donated sperm to the bank.  They were all exceptionally handsome, and I got a crazy idea.  At the end of the day, I went into the clinic, and I begged the nurse to take a tiny sample from all five, and inseminate me.  He took so little from each that it wouldn’t be noticeable.  When he was through with the procedure, I ran to my desk and I recorded the names and addresses of the five men.”

Rose could not go on.  She was sobbing.  “Are you going to arrest me?” she asked.

“No, of course not.  Does your daughter, Sharon, know about your “procedure?”

“Yes, I had to tell her.  When my husband got sick, he needed a new kidney.  I wasn’t compatible but Sharon volunteered.  I had to tell her the truth.  She agreed to donate a kidney anyhow, but she wasn’t compatible either.  We have no other relatives, and my husband went on a waiting list.  He died before his number came up.”

Ken was disturbed.  Maggie told him she learned just recently of his existence through DNA testing, but Rose just told him that she has known for five years that Milton Gustafson was not her biological father.

“Did Sharon ever see the list of sperm donors?” Ken asked.

“Yes, I gave it to her when she learned the truth.”

“Tell me about Sharon.  Where can I reach her?  Where does she work, etc?”

Sharon lives with her boyfriend near her office in Little Italy.  She works for Marco Prizzi Detective Agency.  I’ll give you her home and work number.  Marco is her boss and her boyfriend.”

“It’s interesting that she works for a detective agency,” Ken commented.

“It certainly is.  She told me that there is never a dull moment at the office.”

“Do you have a picture of your daughter?”

“Yes, I have a recent one taken on Labor Day weekend.  She and Marco went to The Poconos for a long weekend.  In fact, that’s where they went for this long weekend.  I’ll get it for you.”  She didn’t have to go far.  She took a framed picture from a book shelf, and handed it to Ken.

A good looking, very happy couple smiled at him.  The woman was definitely his Jane Doe, and Marco was so handsome, Ken immediately got the hots for him.

Ken stood up to leave.  “Thank you, Mrs. Gustafson,” he said, “You’ve been very helpful.”

“Are you sure I can’t give you a cup of coffee before you leave?” she asked.

“No thank you.  I have to get back to the precinct.”

He had no intention of going back to his office.  He headed for Little Italy.  If Marco’s office was indeed closed, he would pay a visit to their apartment.  Perhaps they didn’t go away for a long weekend.  Maybe they were home, being busy extorting him.  Any detective worth his salt would have no trouble tracking the five donors and finding out what happened to them.  Which begged the question, was the sneaky couple trying to extort money from all five men, or did they choose him when they found out that he was married to one of the wealthiest men in New York?

Little Italy is one of the most crowded neighborhoods in Manhattan.  The detective agency was located in a store front.  Ken double parked, put a police I.D. on his windshield, and approached the store.  A sign in the window said that they were closed for Thanksgiving and would reopen Monday morning.

He then headed for their apartment.  Again he had to double park and leave his I.D. tag on the windshield.  The building was a sixplex.  Sharon and Marco lived on the second floor.  Ken approached the door, and knocked.  He had his hand on his gun.

Nobody was home.  Maybe they were out or maybe they were in The Poconos after all.  No matter, Ken had enough probable cause to get a search warrant.  He rushed back to the precinct with the intent of obtaining one.

It was late in the day, and when he got there, Chief Morton was just leaving.  Ken filled his boss in on the astonishing events of the day.

“I’ll work on getting a warrant before I leave,” Morton said.  “There’s nothing more you can do here.  Go home and enjoy your family for what little time is left of the holiday.”

“I wish I could relax, but I have so many unanswered questions,” Ken said.

“Like what? You pretty much seem to have solved the case.  All we have to do is arrest those slimy characters.”

“Well, for one thing, I’d like to know how they came to steal the identity of the O’Sheas.   And if they stole their identities, how many others have they stolen?  Sharon may be extorting the other four donors using different I.D.s.  I’ve got to get hold of that list.”

“Hopefully we’ll find it in their apartment.” Morton said.

Ken went home. His body was edgy and his brain was frustrated thinking about Maggie O’Shea. He kissed Joe with as much passion as he could and begged his husband to make love to him.

“Stop begging,” Joe said.  He grabbed Ken’s hand and literally dragged him to their bedroom.  Their two sons burst into laughter.  They stared into each other’s eyes, and off they ran to their bedroom also.

The lovemaking in both bedrooms continued far into the night, until all four men fell into a deep and exhausted sleep.

To be continued...

Posted: 11/30/18