The Mentor

### Chapter 1: Chapter 1

NYC Detective, Luke Fox was at a cross road in his life and his career. The recent split from his fiancée impacted his work as a cop, and for the first time in his life, he was failing to produce results. After being given an ultimatum by his boss to deliver on his four unsolved murders, or risk being busted back to uniform, he turned to the shot glass for comfort. During a chance meeting in a bar with an old, retired cop, Luke received some advice and suggestions on how to solve his cases. Problem was, the old retired cop's unsolicited theories were farfetched and presumptuous. But given Luke's lack of success to date, did he have much choice? Should he follow the old cop’s advice...? One thing was certain, the decision Luke made from that meeting, would change his life forever.

Complete Chapters 23 Rating 4.7 ( 82 reviews ) Age Rating mature {"language":"en","storyId":82733,"genres":[{"name":"Thriller","path":"/genres/thriller"},{"name":"Mystery","path":"/genres/mystery"}],"authorName":"Steve Gee","authorPath":"/SteveGee","status":"complete","lastUpdatedAt":1733013636,"chaptersCount":23,"rating":4.7317073170731705,"reviewsCount":82,"ageRating":"mature"} Chapter 1 Luke Fox lounged across his work station with a hand supporting his head, while he re-read over all the evidence from his three active murder cases.

He desperately hoped something would jump out at him from the pages, but there was nothing. He continually kept coming up empty.

Normally, he would have already established firm leads on a suspect, or better still, wrapped up these cases by now. But all three remained unsolved with no suspects, or any likelihood of arrests in the near future. That was a fact not lost on his lieutenant.

‘Fox…’ Lieutenant Husken bellowed across the bull pen.

Luke’s focus shifted to the voice. Husken’s head had poked out from his office door. He beckoned towards Luke. ‘My office,’ Husken said, then retreated back into his office.

The stern-faced lieutenant stood at his side of the desk when Luke entered. He gestured to the visitor’s chair. ‘Sit,’ he firmly directed.

Luke slid into the chair and watched Husken take his seat. Three files sat neatly to the side of Husken’s desk. Husken slid them closer and opened the top file.

After a short read, his stern focus shifted to Luke. ‘Claire O’Connor…’ Husken said.

Luke nodded. He knew where this was heading.

‘The journalist found murdered in her Brooklyn hotel room…’ Husken continued. ’Where are we at with that…? It’s been over ten weeks…’

Luke took a deep breath. He rested his elbows on the desk. His eyes fell heavily to the report that was open in front of his boss. It pained him to have to admit it, but he pushed through.

’Nothing has changed with that one, Boss…’ Luke began. ’It’s still the same-same. I keep coming up empty,’ Luke said. ‘No witnesses. No trace evidence. There is nothing because it all took place in the privacy of a hotel room.’

Husken held an unconvinced glare on Luke while several uncomfortable seconds passed, before responding.

’There has to be something…’ Husken said. ’There has to be some evidence that would identify a killer. She didn’t strangle herself.’

Husken’s sarcasm hit Luke’s ears hard. It was a firm reminder of his recent failings. In Luke’s mind, he couldn’t do the impossible. If there was no evidence—there was no evidence.

’The room had been wiped down afterwards,’ Luke began. His tone was defensive. ’Evidence had been removed from the room. I checked the hotel security footage and—’

Husked held up a hand to Luke. ‘I’m aware of all that…’ He gestured to the file. ’I’m asking if you have anything new …any new leads to identify the killer.’

Luke shrugged. ‘I got nothing…’ was all he offered.

Husken glared at Luke, clearly dissatisfied with the response. He closed the folder, then opened the second folder and read from it.

‘John Bishop… found shot and killed in his car in Dumbo, six weeks ago…’ Husken glared at Luke.

Luke couldn’t hold the Lieutenant’s glare. His eyes dropped. It was difficult for him to report that he also had nothing. ‘I suspect the killer was from the Projects, but no-one is talking down there,’ Luke said.

’Got a weapon? Got a witness? Got a suspect? Got anything…?’ Husken extended impatient hands out to his side.

Luke shook his head. ’Nothing.’

Husken sighed. He closed the folder and opened the third folder. ’Linda Fulton… This is now over three weeks old,’ Husken said.

Luke fell back in his chair. He hated where this was heading. ’I liked the husband for that one… but he has since been cleared.

’The husband claimed to have disturbed the offender, who fled but we’ve got nuthin’, not even a workable description,’ Luke said.

Husken closed the file and clasped his hands together on the desk. He held a firm glare at Luke, allowing a moment of silence to pass by, before commenting.

’These are three cases that I expected you would have had something for me by now… The Luke Fox I know would’ve had something by now...’ Husken said.

’What happened to that go-getter that came here six years ago…? What happened to that fighter… that guy who never gives up... no matter what…?’ Luke’s head lowered.

’I want that guy back,’ Husken said. ’ You need that guy back…’

‘I’m just in a bit of a slump at the moment, Boss…’

‘Bullshit…!’ Husken snapped. ‘You’re not in a slump... You’re a shadow of your former self.’ Husken flicked the back of his hand at Luke.

‘You’re letting this broad effect your life.’ Husken glared at Luke. ’So she walked out on you… get over it. Mix some cement in your morning coffee, or something and harden up.’

‘It’s not that easy, Boss. Eight years we were together… Eight years,’ Luke said. ’We were planning to get married and everything… Then out of the blue… she dumps me… She gives me the old, It’s not you, it’s me speech…’ Luke’s eyes fell heavily to his lap.

’Frankly, Fox, I don’t give a shit,’ Husken snapped. ‘All I care about is the clearance rate of your cases. You have gone from one of my best detectives to…’ His top lip curled, as he regarded Luke with an up and down glower. ‘I don’t know what you are, now…’ Husken shook a disappointed head.

He glared at Luke’s bowed head. ‘If you’re not up to it, let me know now. If you don’t think you’ve got what it takes any more to be a detective, just say the word and I’ll re-assign the cases. I need results and I can’t wait until you get your shit together.’

‘Do you…? Do you really? Coz I’m not seeing any evidence of that. All I’m seeing is someone who was once an A-Grade investigator, to… to this…’ he flicked a disrespectful hand at Luke.

Husken continued. ’I remember we talked a while back after you solved that North Brooklyn murder, about how you were chasing promotion to Detective Second Grade… Back then I’d have said you were a shoe in… But now… I’m not even sure you are worthy of carrying a gold shield.’

The Lieutenants words rocked him. They hit his ears hard. His head dropped and his shoulders slumped. He had nothing to offer in his own defense. He navel gazed while Husken continued.

’You need to show me that you are able to put all that personal stuff behind you and focus on your work. You need to move on. You need to get me results, otherwise, your position as a detective will come under further scrutiny and review…’

Husken paused. He regarded Luke while several seconds passed. ’And based on what you’ve shown me so far, it could very well be considered untenable.

’You won’t have to worry about getting that promotion… You’ll no longer be a detective. Can I make myself any clearer…?’

Luke shook his lowered head. He had never been on the end of an old fashioned reaming from his boss before. He had always been a successful investigator, so for his boss question his work ethic and acumen, it cut deep.

Since becoming a detective and joining the 84th Precinct six years ago, Luke had one goal; to be promoted to Detective Second Grade, which was a merit based promotion. And he worked hard to achieve the necessary results required to be considered for such a promotion.

But not only did his promotion look lost, he learned that he could be busted back to uniform, unless he could turn things around and get some results. To a competitive, high-achiever like Luke, that would be devastating.

A knock on the lieutenant’s office door broke the extended silence, and Luke’s wallowing in self-pity. One of Luke’s detective colleagues entered the office.

‘We’ve just had a report of a young girl that’s gone missing in Boerum Hill, Boss. Mother found the front door ajar when she woke this morning. When she checked her daughter, she wasn’t in her bed…’

‘Ah, eight. Suspected abduction. The first responders are calling for a detective to attend. Who do you want to send?’

Husken rubbed a thoughtful hand across his chin. His eyes flicked to Luke. Several seconds of contemplative silence passed while he regarded Luke. His eyes narrowed.

‘I’m gonna give this to you, Fox…’

Luke’s eyebrows arched. His mouth fell open. ’But… I’ve already got three on my plate, Boss…’ Luke extended a hand to the files on the desk. ’We’ve just talked about the difficulties I am having with them.’

’I am aware of that,’ Husken said. ‘This is a fresh case… A fresh start, and quite frankly, it will be your last chance to show me you still have what it takes.’ Husken held Luke’s gaze.

’Solve this one, and do it quickly. Prove me wrong… The ball’s in your court, son. Don’t let me down. But more importantly… Don’t let yourself down.’ Husken flicked a hand towards the door. ‘That’ll be all.’

Luke pushed himself from his seat and stood. He glared unfavorably at the Lieutenant, before exiting the office.

As he ambled back to his desk, he wondered how he would fit this latest case into his busy workload.

Ten days on from when Husken gave Luke his last-chance ultimatum, Luke was seated at his desk reviewing his case files.

While ten days was not a lengthy time frame for any criminal investigation, he knew he should’ve had something to work on by now.

Problem was, he had nothing. He was no closer to solving this latest suspected child abduction, let alone the other three murders he already had on his books.

The stress and pressures of the day’s work, combined with the lack of physical activity from having sat at his desk most of the day, finally started to take its toll. He struggled to remain focused. He fought to keep his eyes open.

Luke checked the time. It was 9.35pm. His leaned on his arms while his helpless gaze scanned the records and statements stacked and spread across his desk.

He fell back in his chair and locked frustrated fingers behind his head. He was better than this. He was one of the most successful investigators in the division, so why was he struggling with these latest cases?

After fourteen hours straight, Luke decided he’d had enough for the day. He quickly secured his case files away, then made his way out of the building, leaving only the cleaning staff behind.

Before the elevator reached the ground floor, Luke decided to head to nearby Barnaby’s Bar, for a well-earned night cap, or three.

Luke ambled the short distance to Barnaby’s Bar with hands buried deep into his pockets, and his shoulders rounded.

The fresh air from the short stroll failed to distract him from his troubled thoughts and worries, but he arrived with a hard-earned thirst.

The affable barman, Benny, stood at the end of the bar, nearest the door polishing glasses when Luke arrived. He greeted Luke when he entered.

‘Hey… Here he is…’ Benny said. ’How are you this evening, Detective?’ He sounded genuinely interested, rather than the standard banal greeting.

The cop in Luke scanned the bar’s patrons before responding. ‘I’m hanging in there, Benny…’ Luke said. ’A little thirsty… But I’m still hanging in there, at this stage.’

Benny jabbed a finger at Luke. ‘Now thirsty I can help you with, Detective,’ Benny said. He smiled his trademark grin that illuminated his entire face.

He set up a glass and collected a bottle from the back of the bar. ‘Hey, you missed everyone tonight,’ Benny said. ‘I think they’ve all gone by now.’ He passed a quick glance towards the rear of the room.

‘There were quite a few of your colleagues in earlier,’ Benny said. He poured Luke a shot of Jack Daniels straight up.

On most nights after 5pm, the detectives from the 84th could be found occupying the booths located towards the darker, more private, rear corner of the room. It was an area local’s affectionately referred to as the “Cop’s Cave”.

As soon as Benny finished pouring, Luke lifted his first drink, and emptied it with a flick of his head. He replaced the glass on the bar. ’Keep ‘em coming Benny.’ He slapped an open hand on the bar.

’Tough day, eh...?’ Benny said.

‘More like a tough month, I’d say...’ Luke said. He watched his next round being poured. ‘Set me up with another six of these,’ Luke said. ‘That’ll do for a start.’

He jabbed a thumb towards the rear of the room. ‘I’ll take them down the back. Just bring them on down to me when you’re ready, Benny… Thanks.’

Luke scooped up his freshly poured drink and made his way to his usual spot, down in ‘The Cave’.

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### Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Propped up by his arms, his vacant, red-eyes fell over the six empty and six full shot glasses spread out on the table in front of him.

He slipped his gold shield from his belt and slammed it onto the table, right beside the once treasured, wallet-sized photo of his fiancée. The two things he held special in his life, now sat side-by-side on the table in front of him.

He lifted another shot, pausing briefly to admire the honey-gold contents. He rolled the shot glass in his fingertips, then with a flick of his head, he drained the glass in one gulp and returned the empty to the table.

His eyes dropped to the photo on the table; a three inch by two inch smiling headshot of the love of his life, and up until recently, the woman he planned to marry.

He lifted the photo and collapsed back into his chair. His glazed eyes never left the small photo perched in his fingertips.

Luke’s face tightened. With a defiant shake of his head, he ripped the photograph in half, then flicked the pieces across the table.

As the fractured photo pieces floated to the table, Luke lifted shot number eight and quickly downed it, then forcefully slammed the empty glass back onto the table.

He collapsed onto his outstretched arms as his eyes dropped to his gold shield. He lifted it from the table and cupped it in his hand. It was now all he had left, but he was under threat of losing that too.

He lifted up shot number nine. He rolled the glass through his fingers while his thoughts rewound to his Lieutenant’s threats. His bleary focus returned to the raised shot glass sitting perched in his fingertips.

His thoughts went blank. ‘Fuck my life…’ he blurted then drained the glass in one gulp. After he slammed the empty onto the table, Luke fell onto his outstretched arms, as the warming liquid slid down his throat.

His eyes fell to the collection of empty shot glasses spread out in front of him. How could everything have turned to shit so quickly?

A deep, but calm voice emanating from somewhere behind Luke, distracted his wallowing. ‘That’s not going to help you with your problems, son.’

Luke glanced over a shoulder. An elderly man stood just back, behind him. Luke returned his bleary-eyed gaze to the wall in front. ‘Who says I’ve got problems, old man…?’

The elderly man moved into Luke’s view and stood at the end of the table. Luke slowly lifted his bloodshot eyes to the standing man.

The old man was a typical, but stylish grandfatherly type. He wore a dark grey fedora hat, a full length, light-weight overcoat over a dark suit and striped tie and he carried a walking stick.

‘Do you mind if I have a seat?’ the old man gestured to the seat across from Luke.

Luke extended an open hand. ‘Be my guest…’ Luke said. He watched the old man slowly lower himself into the chair opposite Luke.

Once comfortable, the old man leaned his walking stick against the rear wall and removed his hat, which he placed on the table to his left.

The old man’s silver-grey hair was tidy and short, probably barber styled, and it framed his well-weathered, but tanned face.

The many lines and wrinkles embedded on his face were characteristic of an elderly man having lived a long and eventful life.

Luke noticed the handle of the walking cane was actually a small skull carved into what appeared to be ivory. ‘Like your handle there…’ Luke said with a lift of his chin towards the propped up walking cane.

The old man turned awkwardly and glanced over a shoulder. ‘Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘It was a gift, actually. It sort of grew on me after a while.’

‘Can I get you a drink?’ Luke offered his unexpected guest.

The old man raised a hand to Luke. ’Thank you… But not for me. I’ve had sufficient.’

Luke felt a little uncomfortable as the old man held a silent stare at him. Several seconds ticked by before the old man eventually spoke.

‘You’re not the first person with relationships problems son... and you certainly won’t be the last. But knocking back shot, after shot, is not the answer to your problems… Take it from someone who knows. Believe me… I have been there, just like you.’

Luke leaned onto his elbows as he regarded his visitor. ‘Who says I’ve got relationship problems...?’

The old man lifted his chin to the torn photograph on the table. Luke’s eyes dropped to what was left of the photo. He shrugged, somewhat feigning indifference.

’Well… Tonight, I don’t think it will hurt,’ Luke said. ’Anyway… to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?’ Luke asked.

‘You’re a young cop, aren’t you…?’ the old man asked, ignoring Luke’s question.

Luke’s concerned eyes dropped to the table. He lifted his shield and quickly slid it into his inner suit pocket.

The old man held up a hand. ’It’s OK… I’m not here to make trouble. I was a cop myself… A Detective—retired of course, from the 90th Precinct. Worked there for thirty-five years,’ he said proudly. ‘Brian Murphy’s the name.’

Luke extended his hand across the table towards the old man. ’Luke... Luke Fox,′ he said.

The old man smiled and lifted his right hand to indicate his swollen and distorted arthritic fingers. ’Sorry, son. My hand shaking days are long gone... I can barely grip that thing.’ He jabbed a crooked thumb over a shoulder at his walking stick.

Luke nodded his understanding. ‘The 90th eh…’ Luke said. ’Up in Williamsburg… So, where did you work in the 90th?’ Luke leaned back onto his elbows.

’Northern Brooklyn Homicide… for thirty-five years. Been retired now for eighteen years and you know what…? I’m eighty-three years old and I still miss it; the work, the challenges, the chase, the hunt and the camaraderie—everything about it. It was a special life for me, son.’

Luke noticed the old man had a glint in his eye when he talked about his former job. He was impressed by his guest’s history.

‘Wow… Northern Brooklyn Homicide…’ Luke said. ‘Tough gig... You must’ve had some interesting cases in your time there.’

The old man nodded. ‘But what about you…?’ he said, deflecting. He flicked an arthritic finger at Luke. ‘I see you carry a gold shield…?’

Luke nodded. ‘Yup... Just over six years now,’ he said. He sat back in his chair.

‘But things aren’t going as you planned, are they…?’ the old man asked.

Luke frowned. ‘How do you mean…?’

‘All this…’ The old man waved a hand over Luke’s collection of shot glasses and torn photograph gathered on the table ’This can only be because you are trying to numb the memory of something that has gone wrong with your girl and your job.

’Why else would you be sitting all alone in bar at…’ the old man checked his watch. ‘10.35 on a weeknight.’

‘How old are you, son...’ the old man asked. ‘If you don’t mind me asking...’

The old man nodded. ‘Look… You’ve got your life ahead of you...’ he began. ’From my experience in life, and as a cop, I’ve always believed that a problem shared, is a problem halved.

’Why don’t you unburden yourself on me... Try me,’ he said. He returned a comforting smile at Luke.

Luke held an uncertain gaze at his guest. His eyes narrowed as he wondered why the old man was here, especially this late at night. He jabbed a thumb towards the bar. ‘Are you sure I can’t get you a drink?’ Luke asked.

‘Positive. I’m good, thank you. I assume you’re probably wondering why I’m here talking to you...’ the old man said.’

‘The thought had crossed my mind.’

‘I noticed you knocking back shot after shot, so I thought I would come over and see what was wrong… I came over to see if I could help. What have you got to lose…? Cop to cop…’

Luke’s assessing eyes again narrowed at the old man across the table from him. ‘You know what…’ He flicked the back of a hand at himself. ’What the heck. Can’t hurt, can it?’ He asked himself, rhetorically.

‘You ever have any cases that you just couldn’t solve, no matter what you did, or how hard you tried?’ Luke asked.

The old man’s mouth straightened. He firmly shook his head. ’I don’t care what you say, or how many cold cases there are out there… No crook is that clever. There is always an answer out there somewhere. You just have to find it.

’If you have a murder… then you must have a murderer. Someone had to have done it. Look for the clues. Look for the answers to the puzzle, they’re out there, somewhere—you just have to find ‘em. And never, ever give up looking.’

‘Were there any you couldn’t solve?’

The old man again firmly shook his head. ‘Nope,’ he said definitively. ‘There was not a single crook that got away with murder on my watch. It was my job to catch them, and god help me, that’s exactly what I did.’

The old man had a calming effect on Luke. He liked the old guy, even though he had only just met him. He looked like someone’s grandfather, but he also give the impression he would have been a tough old bastard in his day.

But the retired old cop sitting across the table from him was also gentle and caring, so Luke decided to unburden himself on the old man.

He mentioned how his fiancée, the girl of dreams of eight years, suddenly walked out on him. Since then, he hadn’t been able to focus on his cases, his promotion, his life—anything.

Luke mentioned how his lieutenant gave him a new case, along with an ultimatum—solve this new case, or risk being busted back to uniform.

He told of his frustrations at how he already had three other cases he struggled with. Each was a vicious murder that he had progressed as far as he could, but he was unable to find any new evidence, or locate any new leads that would identify the killers.

The old man sat listening to everything Luke said. He intently regarding Luke as he spoke.

‘So…’ Luke said, after delivering the précis of why he sat alone in a bar drowning his sorrows. ’There you have it. That is why my life has turned to shit. I have never had problems solving cases.

‘In fact, I can say without any conceited arrogance, that I have solved some of the most difficult cases the 84th has investigated,’ he said proudly. ‘But these cases…’ He waved the back of his hand. ’With all the shit going on in my life... These ones have got me stumped.’

When Luke finished his explanation, the old man sat silent. He allowed several beats to pass, while he regarded Luke. He eventually asked, ‘how bad do you want to stay a Detective, son?’

‘More than anything…’ Luke said. ’It was my dream… It was why I became a cop. I wanted to be a homicide investigator… And I wanted to be the best.’

‘OK then…’ the old man said. ‘Firstly, you have to forget about this girl…’ he said. ’If she can walk out on you after eight years… She wasn’t the one, son. She could’ve walked out on you at any time, even after you were married. She did you a favor, believe me. Close that chapter.’ He swiped a hand across the table, like a blackjack player signaling to stand.

’You will find a new girl, one that will catch your eye... A girl that will make you happy and will be with you forever...just not that one.’ The old man flicked a disrespectful finger at the photograph fragments.

‘Next,’ he continued. ’I want you to walk me through each of your cases - the ones causing you problems. I want to hear the circumstances of each offence, the evidence that you have and the evidence that you think you need… I want to know everything, if I am going to help you.’

Luke watched the old man as he spoke. He suddenly held a controlling presence in the room. The old man instantly commanded respect. He had charisma and confidence, yet he was a no nonsense, take charge kind of guy.

In the short time Luke had known the old man, he had grown to like him and he allowed himself to fall under the old man’s control. He shrugged to himself.

‘Why not…’ Luke said. ‘If you’ve got the time to listen, I would love to bounce my cases off you.’

‘First…’ the old man said. ‘You get rid of those…’ he gestured to the shot glasses in front of Luke. ’You don’t need ’em. Move them over there.’ The old man indicated the side of the table. Luke responded by doing as he was asked.

‘Now…’ The old man began. ’Why don’t you start with the most recent case… The last-chance one the Lieutenant gave you.’

Luke rubbed a contemplative hand across his mouth. ‘OK...’ He began. ‘The latest case involved the abduction of an eight year old girl from her home in Boerum Hill…’

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