by Colin Conway
“I hate computers.”
“You hate computers?”
“Uh-huh. I only use one when the school makes me.”
“You don’t have a social media account?”
“That’s for losers and posers who can’t live their own life, so they present a fake front to their friends.”
Stone found himself immediately thinking about his own social media accounts. For a second, he wondered if the teenager had a valid point.
Betty brought him back to the moment. “I sent the letter because…it doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter.”
Her eyes softened.
“Did you make it up?”
Again, she looked at Stone like he was stupid.
“You made it up.”
She returned to picking at her skirt.
“Why? Why would you do that?”
“He wanted to stop.”
“He wanted to stop seeing you?”
She refused to look at him.
“And you didn’t want that.”
“No.”
“Because you liked him?”
She looked up. Tears filled her eyes.
“Why write the letter then?” Stone asked. “Why say he attacked you?”
“He can’t throw me away.”
“Did you tell him that?”
“It didn’t matter.”
“Why say he attacked you?”
“I wanted him to lose his job.”
“That’s not how it works. The mayor can’t fire him, but if he hurt you, really hurt you, I can do something about it. I can take him to jail.”
When she wiped tears from her eyes, her black mascara smeared across her cheeks. “I don’t want to hurt him that way. I don’t want to hurt his family, either.”
“Betty, did he attack you?”
She sat quietly for a moment before nodding. “I don’t think he meant to.”
“So he did? Where did it happen?”
She shook her head.
“Betty, talk to me.”
“No. You need to go.”
“Please.”
“Go!”
Stone stood and closed his notebook. He noticed the title of the book lying open faced on the couch—Thirteen Reasons Why. He removed a business card from his wallet and offered it to her. Betty refused to look at him. He gently placed it on the couch next to the book.
When he walked out of the house, he looked up and down the street, before walking to his car. Stone wondered if anyone noticed his car parked there.
CHAPTER 6
Margaret Patterson held up her hand until she caught the attention of the bartender. When the handsome guy with the fauxhawk looked her way, she lifted two fingers, then made a circle, and pointed at her table. He lifted his chin and turned to the back bar.
“As I was saying,” Patterson said, “Justin Buckner is a complete fucking moron, both literally and figuratively.”
Dana Hatcher smiled as she leaned her head back against the black vinyl booth.
They were seated in the upstairs portion of Durkin’s Liquor Bar. It was shortly after four p.m. and the after-work crowd had not descended, yet the small restaurant was already packed.
“The guy can’t get out of his own way,” Patterson continued. “Seriously. I mean, he barely won his first election before his wife divorced him. Listen, I’m not a fan of the man, but the wife, she’s a real winner, you know what I’m saying?”
Hatcher lifted a copper mug and drank the remaining portion of her Moscow Mule.
“She was mad at him for being on the council and the amount of time it took away from the family. I mean, if you don’t want to be married to the guy, then leave, but don’t keep kicking him in the balls for it.”
“If you don’t like the guy, why do you care what she’s doing to his balls?”
Patterson smirked. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. Why do you care?”
“Because he’s actually good at what he does, and I don’t want him moping around the office. Just makes me sad and hurts our efficiency. After their divorce he was like a sad puppy all the time. Oh, look at me, my wife is gone, and now I have to make my own sandwiches. Boo-hoo.” She mimed rubbing her fists into her eyes like a crying child. “Just ridiculous. Then he starts running around with the babysitter and the guy looked like he was on top of the world. Man, he was full of ideas and energy again.”
“But he was stupid.”
“He was stupid.” Patterson lifted her empty glass, shook the remaining ice cubes in it, and put it back down. “I don’t care about what he did. She might have been the babysitter, but the woman was of legal age.”
“Legal, yes.”
“Listen, Captain…” Patterson stopped, leaned forward, and smiled at Hatcher. “Oh, man, that still sounds cool, doesn’t it?”
Hatcher smiled. “Yeah, I like it. The bars look good, too.”
“Hell yeah, they look good and you deserve it.”
“Thanks.”
“So, as I was saying, Captain, I get there’s a difference between something being legal and something being right. What Justin is doing isn’t right. He should go bury his head in the sand somewhere instead of standing in front of city hall making a big stink about it. He should let the press get excited until they run out of steam. Everybody’s got skeletons in their closets, but he thinks if he comes out and fights the press that they’ll go away. The guy is a moron.”
The bartender came over with their drinks. He placed another copper mug in front of Hatcher and a Grey Goose and tonic near Patterson. As the bartender walked away, Patterson watched him with a smile.
“Geez, Maggie, be obvious, will ya?”
Patterson kept her eyes on the bartender’s gait and gave a slow, appreciative whistle. “If I had that swing in my backyard…”
Hatcher laughed. “Keep it in your pants, Councilwoman. There are people watching.”
Patterson’s eyes swept the bar. “Fuck ’em. Most of these folks don’t know who I am, and if they do, they didn’t vote for me. Not my district.” She clinked her glass against the side of Hatcher’s copper mug and raised her glass in a silent toast.
Hatcher raised her drink and sipped. “Speaking of districts, how are things with the recent expansion to nine seats?”
“Better than expected. I thought the public would care, but they don’t. I mean, it just made sense to prepare for the future with how fast the city is growing. Seattle has nine seats…well, you already knew that, right?”
“We’re not Seattle.”
“Thank God, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be forward thinking. For too long we’ve been stuck in the mindset of keeping us as a small town. We need to abandon that thinking. Let’s be something special.”
“You’re preaching.”
Patterson smiled. “I’m campaigning.”
“The election just ended, and your seat wasn’t even up.”
Patterson sipped her drink. “Yeah, I’m glad I wasn’t running, though. Brutal cycle. Man, did Sikes ever savage Lofton.”
“He took his share of shots, too.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” Patterson said. “Brutal. I thought the pretty boy could actually beat the mad king.”
Hatcher nodded. “A lot of us did.”
“I mean, he was the mayor’s chief of staff, for Chrissakes. Got him through the entire mess with Garrett, and that shit went national.” Patterson lifted her hands in disbelief. “You’d think that kind of insider information would give him an advantage.”
“It was a close election,” Hatcher said.
“Voters are stupid.”
Hatcher’s eyes widened, and she glanced around.
“What?”
“Aren’t you worried someone will hear you?”
“We’re in a bar.”
“Someone could be recording us.”
Patterson
leaned out of the booth and looked around. When she resettled herself, she shook her head. “These people are too immersed in their own bullshit to worry about ours.”
“It’s your career, not mine.”
“Oh no, it’s your career, too, sister.”
Hatcher had lifted her mug for another sip but paused. “What do you mean?”
“My fortunes are your fortunes.”
Hatcher thought about the statement, then took her sip.
“So, Sikes gets reelected,” Patterson began.
“Barely.”
“Yes, barely,” Patterson agreed. “No sooner is the county auditor finished counting votes, and what’s the first thing he starts chirping about?”
Hatcher shrugged.
“Term limits. He thinks it’s unfair that he can only be in office for two terms.”
“Yeesh.”
“My point. He’s trying to get us to rework the city charter. He’s found a sympathetic ear with the council president.”
“Who is also limited to two consecutive terms, right?”
“Exactly,” Patterson said, raising her glass in emphasis.
“How are the rest of the council members leaning?”
“The new guys are just happy to be in office. They love Sikes, which is totally freaking me out. The sycophants. Blech.”
Hatcher smiled. “You’re on a roll, Big City.”
“I told you before, Pittsburgh ain’t that much bigger than Spokane. People just think it is because we have actual sports teams.”
“Whatever.”
“Besides, I haven’t lived there in twenty years since I came out here for law school. That makes me a local girl just like you.”
“You’re a transplant, Maggie. You don’t fool me. I can still pick out that Midwest accent of yours whenever you get riled up.” Dana smiled. “Just like now.”
“Fuck you and your west coast ears. I’m only riled up because of the jagoffs I work around. Don’t tell me you love the people you work with. I’ve heard you spout off plenty of times.”
“The department has its problems,” Hatcher admitted.
“Things are better since you got the promotion?”
“I think so. People seem to be taking me more serious.”
“They should have taken you serious from the get-go.”
“They are now, so that’s what matters.”
“What matters is how we go about getting the fat boy out of there.”
“The fat boy?”
“Baumgartner.”
“He’s big,” Hatcher said, “but he’s not fat.”
“He’s fat. It’s just that he’s tall so you can’t tell how much.”
“I would never call him that.”
Patterson thumbed toward the bartender. “Compared to that, Baumgartner’s fat.”
Dana appraised the man behind the bar. “Compared to that, they’re all fat.”
“Yeah,” Patterson agreed, casting another longing glance at the bartender.
“Why do you want to get rid of Baumgartner?”
Patterson turned her attention back to her friend. “Have you seen his approval numbers?”
“No.”
“He’s the most popular leader in the city. Way more popular than the mayor. None of us council members have any name recognition. I bet if he walked in here, most people would know him, even without his uniform. I could walk in naked and no one would notice.”
“I think they would notice that.”
Patterson smiled wickedly. “Probably, yeah.”
Hatcher rolled her eyes.
“Sikes wants him to take a fall,” Patterson told her.
“Who? Baumgartner?
“He won’t come out and say it, but he wants it. I mean, he hints at it like a schoolboy trying to get in a girl’s pants. It’s pitiful.”
“Why?”
“Crime stats are horrible. He’s getting beat up over them. He needs someone to take the heat. It’s a slaughter of expediency.”
“Crime isn’t due just to police efficiency,” Hatcher said, thinking about her earlier conversation with Captain Farrell. “There are other factors.”
“Those factors don’t matter. Only votes matter. Even to a guy who is in his second term. Especially to a guy in his second term who is angling to rewrite the rules the rules and get a third. He’s going to find a way to sacrifice Baumgartner to get every council member a little more name recognition.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Baumgartner’s done a good job.”
“He’s done a great job,” Patterson said.
“But you’re talking about laying him on the altar of public opinion.”
“And? You can’t tell me you’re that naïve about this game. Listen, here’s how it works. If he did his job and did it well, but did it in the background, he would be of no value. Where would the gain be? But if he was a fuck up as a leader? Then he’s valuable.”
“He’s valuable if he’s bad at his job?” Hatcher shook her head. “That makes no sense.”
“Sure it does. Let’s say the department disliked him. We could sacrifice him to gain their trust. It would look to the public like the mayor was taking strong action to address the crime problem.”
“Well, he’s liked,” Hatcher said. “A lot.”
“I know. He also has a lot of recognition. He seems untouchable. There’s an air to him that people in the city just gravitate toward. Even Sikes has to be careful around him. But…” She raised a finger and lowered her voice a little. “If you kill the king, you become the king.”
“The king is dead. Long live the king?”
“Exactly. Sikes will be the king. I mean, technically he is the king, it’s just that he’ll be a more popular king. A more popular mad king.” Patterson looked at her drink. “What’s in this drink? Is the kid making me doubles?”
“You think the other council members will benefit, too?”
“Definitely. Especially the ones who don’t have their own problems to deal with.”
“Like Buckner?”
Patterson laughed. “Like Buckner. Geesh, if he just would have kept his mouth shut, he could have kept banging the babysitter.”
“It sounds like you’re condoning it.”
Patterson leaned forward. “Sister, have you seen my babysitter? Eighteen-year-old stud muffin. My kids adore him. My ex-husband hates him. I love having him around. Good Lord, I love having him around. I’d gamble on the fall-out with his mother if she wasn’t my campaign manager. I just can’t risk it, know what I mean? Now, drink up. I’ve gotta be out of here in thirty minutes, so I can make a neighborhood council meeting and I wanna get another drink inside me. I can’t go to another one of those sober.”
CHAPTER 7
Gary Stone parked in his favorite space at city hall, the one marked for Emergency Vehicles Only that was furthest from the building. He slid out of his car, slammed the door, and jogged toward the front entrance. It was almost five and he wasn’t sure if he would make it before the council offices closed.
The elevator seemed to take forever. When it opened, he had to wait as several people exited. One of them was Jean Carter.
“Hey, boy-o,” she said, with a big smile. “Want to bounce for a drink? I’m thinking about skipping my spin class.”
“Is Hahn still upstairs?” he asked, his expression tight.
Jean’s smile slipped. “You still working?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, in that case, yeah, he’s just finishing something up before he leaves. He’ll be down in a few minutes. Everything all right?”
Stone relaxed slightly. “I’ve got to talk with him before he leaves.”
“What about? Maybe I can help.”
He was about to say she couldn’t when he remembered the chief’s orders.
You better find out.
“How he’s an idiot for calling a press conference, you mean?”
“You said something about how things were going to get worse. Remember?”
What remained of Jean’s smile fell away. “Why?”
“What did you mean? It wasn’t about Buckner, was it?”
Jean swallowed. “Gary, I…”
“I’m trying to be prepared for whatever might happen down here at city hall,” he said, surprised at how easy the lie came. “Whatever you tell me stays between us.”
“I…” Jean shook her head. “No, I can’t. But you don’t have to worry. It doesn’t concern you.”
Stone gave her a long look. He couldn’t decide if he was more disappointed in her for not confiding in him or with himself for lying to try to get her to do so. He turned away and walked toward the elevator, punching the up button again. The doors opened almost immediately.
“Why do you need to talk to Hahn?” Jean asked from behind him.
Stone stepped into the empty elevator and hit the button for the sixth floor. When he looked back at his friend, he said, “Sorry, Jean, it doesn’t concern you.”
Jean stared at him as the doors closed.
When the doors opened, Councilman Dennis Hahn was standing at the elevator, waiting. He was a tall man in a tailored blue suit. The shirt was checkered and the tie solid yellow. His eyes were bright behind tortoise-shell framed glasses. Even at the end of the day, his short hair was still perfectly coiffed in the front.
“Councilman, got a minute?”
“Mister Stone, good to see you. I’m on my way to my car,” Hahn said and stepped into the elevator. “Let’s walk and talk.”
“Yes, sir, definitely.”
With his free hand, Hahn pressed the button for the lobby. In his right hand was a worn leather satchel. It appeared to be nearly empty.
“How are things, Gary?”
“They’re good.”
“The upstairs remodel ended up fairly nice, don’t you think?”