his desk, Lynagh, Healey, Franks, Chapman, and Dugan had just walked into Cronin's office for a briefing on the past week. He saw Cronin point his finger at him as well as Baker and Powers to come to his office. Once they were all in his office, Cronin informed them that things were pretty calm and it might be a good time to take some personal time before they were loaned out for other cases. Detective Baker spoke up and told Detective Cronin the story about Simmons and Madison at the jail.
“OK,” Cronin replied. “I need to see schedules within the next forty-eight hours on vacation time.” As everyone left the room, Powers, Johnson, and Baker stayed behind to give Cronin specific info on what Simmons had told them.
As Al Simmons' iPhone started playing classical music he was pleased to find Officer John Bay returning his call. They exchanged pleasantries, and finally the attorney came to his point and asked, “John, how would Madison Robinson find out how the girls are getting drugs from doctors by slipping them a few hundred here and there?”
There was silence at the other end of the phone, and finally the correctional officer answered, “While Madison is kept separate for her own safety, she does have access to the church, the priest, the nun, and on very special occasions, if we have enough officers outside to protect her, we let her have access to other female inmates. She's a human being and we try to give her a chance to speak to others.”
“No, don't misunderstand me, Officer,” Simmons replied. “I appreciate the treatment of Madison. I just wondered where she got the information.”
John Bay spoke again. “Why would she care about this?”
“Well,” Simmons replied, “that's Madison. She cares, sometimes too much, which is why she is there right now.”
“I see,” Officer Bay answered. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“No, no, thank you, Officer. Maddie is a good person in case you are wondering.”
“I know,” came the reply. “And off the record, she is right about the doctors; they don't care about these girls, all they care about is the cash.”
Before Simmons could reply, there was an end-call sound. He wanted to call back but thought better of it. He would stop and make it a point to see Detective Cronin tomorrow morning. He knew Powers and Johnson were going to speak with him but decided he would speak directly with him as well.
SEPTEMBER 29
T he nightclub called the City was the place to be in Setauket. It was combination circular dance floor on the lower level with a balcony on the second level that would allow people to stand against the railings and look down at the gathering on the dance floor or move to semiprivate tables and booths in the thirty-five extra feet behind the railings. The decor on the walls was illuminated photos of Los Angeles, New York, Chicago, San Francisco, and New Orleans. There was even a private room for a $1,500 rental fee for the entire evening. Privacy when you wanted it, and party and dancing when you opened the door.
Kate Summers was a regular at the City. She was beautiful, brunette, twenty-five years old, and kept count of all the men she had sex with at the club in the private room. Her goal was to live life to the fullest and snag a millionaire by the time she was thirty. Her schedule tonight was a blind date set up by one of her friends in the private room. She said good-bye to her girlfriends with the hand motion of her finger going in and out of her mouth slowly. Her friends, Linda and Jackie, just shook their heads and gave her a wave. The music was so loud that patrons either used sign language, hand signals, texts from their phone, or the old-fashioned way of putting your mouth directly on the ear of those with whom you were trying to communicate.
Kate gave her name to security and checked to be sure the other name on the list for the room matched the name given to her from Linda and Jackie. The burley security guard
“OK,” Cronin replied. “I need to see schedules within the next forty-eight hours on vacation time.” As everyone left the room, Powers, Johnson, and Baker stayed behind to give Cronin specific info on what Simmons had told them.
As Al Simmons' iPhone started playing classical music he was pleased to find Officer John Bay returning his call. They exchanged pleasantries, and finally the attorney came to his point and asked, “John, how would Madison Robinson find out how the girls are getting drugs from doctors by slipping them a few hundred here and there?”
There was silence at the other end of the phone, and finally the correctional officer answered, “While Madison is kept separate for her own safety, she does have access to the church, the priest, the nun, and on very special occasions, if we have enough officers outside to protect her, we let her have access to other female inmates. She's a human being and we try to give her a chance to speak to others.”
“No, don't misunderstand me, Officer,” Simmons replied. “I appreciate the treatment of Madison. I just wondered where she got the information.”
John Bay spoke again. “Why would she care about this?”
“Well,” Simmons replied, “that's Madison. She cares, sometimes too much, which is why she is there right now.”
“I see,” Officer Bay answered. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“No, no, thank you, Officer. Maddie is a good person in case you are wondering.”
“I know,” came the reply. “And off the record, she is right about the doctors; they don't care about these girls, all they care about is the cash.”
Before Simmons could reply, there was an end-call sound. He wanted to call back but thought better of it. He would stop and make it a point to see Detective Cronin tomorrow morning. He knew Powers and Johnson were going to speak with him but decided he would speak directly with him as well.
SEPTEMBER 29
T he nightclub called the City was the place to be in Setauket. It was combination circular dance floor on the lower level with a balcony on the second level that would allow people to stand against the railings and look down at the gathering on the dance floor or move to semiprivate tables and booths in the thirty-five extra feet behind the railings. The decor on the walls was illuminated photos of Los Angeles, New York, Chicago, San Francisco, and New Orleans. There was even a private room for a $1,500 rental fee for the entire evening. Privacy when you wanted it, and party and dancing when you opened the door.
Kate Summers was a regular at the City. She was beautiful, brunette, twenty-five years old, and kept count of all the men she had sex with at the club in the private room. Her goal was to live life to the fullest and snag a millionaire by the time she was thirty. Her schedule tonight was a blind date set up by one of her friends in the private room. She said good-bye to her girlfriends with the hand motion of her finger going in and out of her mouth slowly. Her friends, Linda and Jackie, just shook their heads and gave her a wave. The music was so loud that patrons either used sign language, hand signals, texts from their phone, or the old-fashioned way of putting your mouth directly on the ear of those with whom you were trying to communicate.
Kate gave her name to security and checked to be sure the other name on the list for the room matched the name given to her from Linda and Jackie. The burley security guard
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