by Colin Conway
How much of that was Baumgartner just doing what chiefs do, and how much of it was some kind of collusion?
Clint couldn’t see any real evidence of malfeasance on the chief’s part, but he had to be honest with himself about the fact he’d never really looked before. It was possible. He didn’t trust the brass, who he imagined spent most of their time thinking of ways to screw over officers they didn’t like. That was a far cry from criminal behavior, Clint supposed, but then again, it was also a far cry from good leadership. He should look into it. Maybe there was something there that just needed some light shined on it.
One thing was for sure. If the chief needed a go-between with Garrett, Stone was the perfect choice. He was the only patrol officer who had regular facetime with the man due to his position. No one would suspect him, and the milquetoast officer would do what he was told.
Garrett’s voice came over his radio, all Denzel Washington smooth, announcing he was clear and available. Clint smiled a little when Garrett immediately got hit with a collision up on Twenty-Ninth Avenue. Then he realized he was going to be sitting off in his car, waiting while Garrett took care of the call, and his smile vanished.
A minute or so later, Garrett exited Stone’s house and returned to his car. Clint wasn’t sure, but it looked like Garrett had glanced in his direction. He couldn’t tell for certain, but it only added to his suspicion that the cunning bastard knew he was being followed.
Clint considered sitting off on Stone’s house for a while to see if he did anything or went somewhere in response to Garrett’s visit. After a few seconds, he rejected the idea. Until he knew more about their connection, Garrett remained the better target to monitor.
He made his way to the collision scene, finding a nearby parking lot and monitoring the call from there. Garrett worked briskly, clearing the intersection and taking care of the paperwork. He even managed to make one of the drivers chuckle a little when he handed him the ticket.
Everybody loves Ty Garrett. He writes people tickets and they laugh about it. Clint tries talking to some people and they act like it’s the inquisition. But Garrett gets away with it, the piece of shit.
If they only knew.
He followed Garrett for the next several hours, but by midnight, he was yawning. The “hard crash” weariness that usually accompanied full-court press investigations at about the twenty-four-hour mark had settled into his bones, and he realized his night was done. When Garrett put himself out for a dinner break in his car, Clint decided it was time to call it quits.
Out of curiosity, though, he followed Garrett to see where he liked to eat his driver’s seat meals. The officer drove downtown, parked in front of a condo, and headed upstairs. Clint frowned.
Barely separated and wasting no time.
He didn’t know for sure, but he was willing to bet that one of the condos in that building had a sexy little chip living in it. Whether she was something new, or one Garrett was working before the separation, Clint didn’t know.
He wrote down the time and the building address in his notebook, intending to look into it later. Then he turned his car north and headed home. He was tired, and no way was he going to sit outside and wait around while Garrett broke off a piece.
FRIDAY
It isn’t the original scandal that gets people in the most trouble—it’s the attempted cover-up.
—Tom Petri, former US Representative
CHAPTER 25
Chief Baumgartner stared at Gary Stone. The officer stood ramrod straight in front of the chief’s desk, looking like a terrified, dutiful Marine about ready to fall on his sword. That’s not what Baumgartner needed, though. He needed results, not sacrifice.
“Did you hear what I said, Gary?”
“Yes, Chief.”
“Betty Rabe killed herself two nights ago,” Baumgartner repeated anyway. “Two nights! Why am I only hearing out about this now?”
“I just found out last night, sir.”
“How? Were you doing follow-up?”
Stone shook his head. “Officer Garrett stopped by my house to tell me.”
“Garrett?” The chief sat back in his chair. “How the hell did he get involved?”
“He answered the suicide call. He saw my card at the scene, so—”
“Hold on. The girl had your business card?”
“Yes, sir. I gave it to her and asked her to call if she wanted to talk further.”
“She didn’t, though. Call you, I mean.”
“No, sir.”
“What happened to the business card?”
“Sir?”
“Think, Gary. Do you know if they left it at the scene or did someone pick it up? Did the parents ask why their daughter was talking to the police? For someone who was supposed to investigate this quietly, you left a trail of breadcrumbs.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Don’t apologize, Gary. Give me answers. Why was Garrett at your house?”
“He stopped by to ask about the card.”
“That’s not his job,” Baumgartner pointed out. “That’s the detective’s job.”
Stone shrugged.
The chief stared at the photograph of General Norman Schwarzkopf and himself framed on his desk, taken during one of the retired general’s speeches on a book tour. He wondered what Garrett’s game was, or if the man was just doing the follow-up for a lazy detective. It wasn’t that out of the ordinary, especially if the detective actually was lazy. Baumgartner admired the initiative. It was something Baumgartner himself would have done way back when he was on patrol.
“What else did Garrett say?” Baumgartner asked.
“Nothing,” Stone said. “He wanted to know why I’d contacted her.”
“What did you say?”
Stone hesitated, then said, “I told him she’d made some threats against one of the council members.”
“And he bought that?”
Stone nodded. “I mean, that’s what I do, right?”
“I suppose it is.” The chief mulled it over some more. “And this conversation happened last night?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you call me, Gary?”
Stone blinked. “Sir?”
“Why didn’t you pick up that department-issued Blackberry I gave you and call me? You’ve got my direct cell for a reason.”
“Well…I didn’t think…you know, I didn’t want to bother you with it.”
“But you thought it important enough to bring to me first thing this morning?”
“Yes.”
Baumgartner leaned forward. “What the fuck, Gary? Did your IQ leak out of your ears overnight or something?” He tapped a meaty finger on his desk. “This is the kind of information I need right away!”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry is for shit.” He shook his head. “I thought you had your arms wrapped around this.”
“I…talked to her,” Stone stammered. “And I gave you the report, just like you asked. What else was I supposed to do?”
“Handle it, that’s what,” Baumgartner snapped. “This is the kind of thing we have to stay ahead of. It could look bad if it goes public.”
“Without the letter, how could that happen?”
Baumgartner clenched and unclenched his jaw. “Don’t be naïve, Gary. There always seems to be a way. If not the letter, then some friend she talked to, or a diary tucked away in her nightstand. Hell, it could be lurking out there on social media. It’s always something.” He looked up at Stone. “You gave me the only copy of your report, right?”
“Yes.”
“And the letter?”
Stone nodded uneasily. “I gave you the original.”
“Good.” Baumgartner took a deep breath and let it out. “Now I’ve got to call the mayor and tell him this just got a lot worse.”
More chaos. Won’t he be pleased?
Baumgartner picked up the phone, then gl
anced up at Stone. “You can go, Gary.”
Relieved, Stone fled the office.
Baumgartner waited until the door was securely closed. Then he dialed.
CHAPTER 26
Councilwoman Margaret Patterson strode off the seventh-floor elevator, dismissively nodded at Charlene Mapes, and headed toward the mayor’s office.
“Councilwoman,” Charlene called.
Patterson stopped, but didn’t bother facing her. She disliked the mayor’s assistant.
“Ma’am,” Charlene said, “he’s on the phone. He’s not to be disturbed.”
Patterson turned around slowly then. “Really? Not to be disturbed? I just talked with the man. He told me to come right up.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, the chief called him.”
Patterson rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding me? I’m being told to wait because of the chief?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t know how long they’ll be.”
Patterson headed toward the mayor’s office.
“Ma’am!” Charlene called after her. “Councilwoman!”
She stood in the door of the mayor’s office. He noticed her but immediately diverted his attention. His face was red and contorted with anger. Whatever he was discussing with Baumgartner was not a happy topic.
“Just find out,” Sikes said and forcibly hung up the phone.
“Baumgartner?” Patterson asked.
“What?”
“Charlene said you were on with the chief.”
“Tsk. She talks too much. I liked my last assistant better.”
“Yeah, we know why you liked her.” Patterson held her hands away from her chest, miming overly large breasts.
Sikes stared at Patterson for a moment. He then closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out. When he opened them, he did so with a smile on his face. He pushed himself out of his chair and stepped around his desk.
His sudden change in demeanor shocked her. It was a trait Sikes was notorious for, but it was still unsettling to see it on display.
“Maggie, it’s always nice to see you,” he said, walking toward her. “You look lovely today.”
She ignored his calling her by her nickname. “That’s funny since I remember you referring to me as Butterface on your campaign trail.”
Sikes waved her comment off. “Long forgotten.”
“Not by me.”
They shook hands and Patterson felt compelled to fake a smile.
The mayor pointed to the leather chair. “Grab a seat.” With a toothy grin, he dropped into the couch opposite her. “So, what are we talking about this morning? Utilities? Parks budget? You name it, my time is your time.”
“Are you serious?”
His eyes narrowed, and he loosened his tie slightly. “What’s on your mind, Maggie?”
“Only my friends call me Maggie.”
“I thought we were friends.”
She kept her mouth closed but clicked her teeth together.
“We could be friends, you and me,” Sikes said.
“I came up here to discuss the recent accusation against Patrick Armstrong.”
“That’s what you said on the phone, but that’s not what you really want to talk about, is it?”
Patterson shook her head and continued. “Human Resources is investigating—”
“He probably did it.”
“What?”
Sikes shrugged. “Armstrong is a shady asshole. You know it. The whole council suspects it. HR has been investigating him for months now.”
“Did you know about this?”
“I know what I need to know.”
“Was that a yes or a no?”
Sikes leaned forward and smiled. “I thought I just answered that.”
“What’s wrong with you? You avoided that question.”
“I answered it.”
Patterson pinched the bridge of her nose. “So, what’s going to happen?”
“When?”
“When?” she repeated.
“Yes,” he said, thoroughly enjoying himself.
Patterson glanced around, worried that this was some elaborate game to make her look foolish. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s clear you don’t, Maggie. What’s going to happen when? That is the question. Understand?”
The mayor was normally arrogant and condescending, but this morning he was reaching new levels. She usually got the best results and learned the most about city hall when he was talkative, so she decided to play along. “What’s going to happen when, Mister Mayor?”
“Right now, we’re going to let the investigation continue as long as it takes.” Sikes seemed very proud of himself.
“You said he probably did it, though. That Armstrong was receiving kickbacks or selling his vote. Why should the investigation take longer than necessary?”
“We want to do it by the book. Everybody deserves that. Then he will have his right to appeal. That takes time, too. You understand that, right? This is America. People have rights.”
“What if there’s enough for a criminal case? We’re not going to allow him to sit in his seat, are we?”
The mayor opened his hands. “What can I do? I’m just the mayor. You as the council will need to vote. Can you get everybody to point in the same direction on this? Maybe censuring him would be a good first step.”
“You’re damn right we’ll censure him. Can we get a copy of that HR report?”
Sikes covered his arms over his chest. “It’s not official yet.”
“That’s bullshit. We should be able to see what your staff has done so far.”
“You will,” Sikes said, “but if you haven’t figured it out yet, this is going to take some time.”
“Are you telling me you want to delay action on this for some sort of political gain?”
The mayor feigned shocked and looked around his office. “Did I say that?”
“Yes, you did. You most certainly did.”
“I think you misheard me. I didn’t mean for it to come across that way.” His chuckle was small at first, but then deepened.
Patterson rubbed her forehead. She’d come up to talk about the blood in the water surrounding Patrick Armstrong and Justin Buckner, but Sikes had somehow commandeered the conversation. He was mocking her because of the council’s issues. He no longer saw the body as a balance to his power. She needed to assert herself, so she could push her agenda forward.
“Mister Mayor, the council is in disorder. Two of our members have found themselves in serious trouble. One of those is definitely facing a legal issue, and the other one has a political problem, based on public perception. But make no mistake, they are both vulnerable.”
“Two members?”
“Yeah, Armstrong and Buckner.”
“Oh, I thought there were three.” Sikes was grinning.
“Three? No, there are only two.”
“An honest mistake,” the mayor said, “two and three sound so much alike.” He was laughing again.
Patterson shook her head. “What are you talking about?”
The mayor’s laugh died down. “What are you proposing, Maggie?”
She was off-kilter and she knew it. Whatever he was doing, it was working. He had thrown so many verbal jabs that she had turtled up, deflecting and defending instead of pushing forward with her ideas.
It was upsetting to watch the mayor behave in a manner that she could never pull off without someone questioning not only her sanity but her sobriety. Patterson decided to change tactics. She couldn’t attack straight ahead, or he would see that coming. She had to sneak in from an oblique angle by trying to enlist him in a project she knew he would want to see succeed.
“The public safety meeting is coming up.”
Sikes shrugged. “I know that.”
“You’ve seen how we did in the NIBRS report?”
The mayor rolled his eyes. “The ci
ty looks like a crime disaster.”
“Well, I’m going after the chief because of it.”
All frivolity evaporated, and Sikes focused on her. She scored her first jab.
“Why are you going after Baumgartner?” he asked.
“Because he’s the chief of police and the bad numbers are his fault. The weight should fall on his shoulders, not ours.”
Sikes gave a slight shrug. “Agreed, but what’s your political reason for going after him?”
“Because when you kill the king, you become the king.”
The mayor’s face reddened, and his lips turned into an ugly sneer. “I’m the king.”
Now, she’d landed a punch. He was paying full attention now. A jolt of energy raced through her.
“Well, sure,” Patterson said. “You’re the king, but you’re term-limited. You’re out in, what, three years? What’s the gain in me going after you? I’d waste a lot of time and energy going after what is essentially a lame-duck mayor. I’ve better things to do.”
Anger flared in the mayor’s eyes. The lame-duck comment had been an uppercut to his pride. Time to move in for the kill.
“You hate that fat bastard,” Patterson said. “No matter how much you try to hide it, I know you hate him.”
“I don’t hate him,” Sikes said, but it wasn’t convincing.
Patterson chuckled. “Of course you do, Andy.”
“Mister Mayor.”
“Yes, Mister Mayor, but you hate him, and we all know it. His poll numbers are outstanding. Way better than yours.”
“It’s rigged,” Sikes said. “Somehow.”
“Sure, if that’s what you want to think, but I need to be proactive. I’m going to be the next mayor.”
Sikes stretched his jaw, then said, “I’m still mayor and I’ll get those fucking term limits removed, you watch. You won’t stand a chance against me just like the last douche bag who thought he could take me down.”
“Maybe,” Patterson said. “Maybe not. I’m not Cody Lofton, though.”
“That sounds like a threat.”
Patterson shook her head. “Just a fact, but that’s three years from now. Until then, the enemy of my enemy…”