The Radio Murders - The Radio Murders

Torsha Lofton was the news director at KCI.  It was a prestigious position, on par with the top news editors in the city.  At nearly 60 years old - a fact she gladly shared with anyone who cared - Torsha was pure Chicago.  Her father worked the El Train Red Line for nearly 40 years.  Her mother was a retired schoolteacher and still lived in an elder care center in Evanston.  Torsha’s beginnings were fueled by her parent’s intelligence, kindness and generosity of spirit.  In return, Torsha remained devoted to her widowed mother, who was approaching ninety.  

A woman like Torsha, immersed in her work and duty bound to her church, her Wicker Park community and her elderly mother, would never have time for the silliness of dating, much less a real love affair.  But just when everything was in balance, love hit Torsha hard.  It was never easy for her to accept that she was an attractive woman, even though weekly tennis matches and the stylishly managed, waist-length dreadlocks gave her a youthful appearance. 
Yet when Torsha Lofton met former submarine fleet admiral and the current Deputy Superintendent Chief Herman Jeffries, she was transformed into a giddy teenager, a serious, hard working and highly intelligent giddy teenager.  

This Tuesday morning, when the news of a Calumet Park murder came across her computer screen, she thought twice about picking up the phone and calling the BIS chief.  Though they were seeing a lot of each other, they still respected the space each required.  Chief Jeffries was divorced six years before, with two grown children.  Torsha never dreamed that she would have time to share her life with a man.  But, she had never met a man like Chief Jeffries.

"Jeffries."  The taught, straight spine and spit shined voice, as low as a bass drum, sent a little shiver down Torsha's back.

"Good morning, Herman."  She was as familiar and loving as professional conduct would allow.

"Good morning, my sweet, how's the best journalist in the Midwest doing this morning?"  The chief departed from his usual formal demeanor to be a bit romantic.

"I’m wonderful. Actually I am calling on business, chief."

"Then let me close my door."

"Nothing so serious, I just want to know a little something about the DOA in Calumet Park this morning."

"Lady, you are the best, I only got that report within the hour.  How'd you know about that?"  The Chief was genuinely impressed.

"A lady never reveals her sources."  Torsha absently played with the Lucite encased paperweight containing a Marconi Commemorative £2 coin.  It was a recent gift from an unlikely benefactor, but she proudly kept it on her desk.

"Torsha, you know I can't tell you anything until I at least speak to the CO, in this case Captain Crenshaw, or the Primary."  She could hear the chief shuffling through papers, and then pecks at a computer keyboard.  "White male, in his fifties, possible gunshot to the neck," Jeffries ignored his own edict. "A-2 Detective Sergeant Molnar and his team caught the call."

"Sergeant Molnar is your lead investigator? Does he still goose-step through the squad room?" Torsha added with palatable disdain.

"The reformed racist, Molnar is on the case. And I will ignore your unfortunate characterization.  That's all I have.  If this turns into a headline, Torsha..."

"I know, Herman, I'll go through News Affairs."

"Thank you, my sweet."

"Well, I'd better get ready for the day shift.  Will I see you tonight?" Torsha checked the huge digital clock over her office door.

"Not tonight, we have command meetings and it could go late.  I'll call you as soon as we're finished."

"All right, chief.  You be careful out there."

"Always. Bye now."

Torsha Lofton allowed herself ten seconds of private happiness before she called her Southside rover for an update.