Corus and the Case of the Chaos

by Mark Hazard

  “I cuffed him to Pineda’s desk. Thought he was throwing his weight around to protect his son. Turns out that was a good thing because he was going to tell Andy I worked for the Russians.”

  “He never would have opened up to you,” Jim said. “Nice one, Garvey.”

  “He would have told me what he knew. As far as I knew, I was the only one running this case. I’d figured out more than you had by that point. So, don’t give me that obstruction bullshit. I mighta been wrong about you. Maybe. But I did what I thought was best for everyone at the time.”

  “So what next?”

  “I did what any parent would do,” Garvey said. “Once I got out of those cuffs, I went to his house and broke in. Good parents search their kids’ rooms sometimes.”

  “Not when they’re forty years old,” Corus said. “Never mind, what did you find?”

  “I went through, careful to not disturb anything. I found a duffel full of gold coins, clothes, etc. Like a go-bag. Next thing I know, someone else has the same idea as me. I hear a door open. A man comes in. He calls out for Andrew. He must have thought he was there, because the BMW was in the driveway. That puzzled me too at the time, because I couldn’t figure how Andy’d gotten to the precinct. I was parked down the street, so he didn’t see my car either. He pulls out a 1911 with a silencer on it. Not seeing me upstairs, he moves forward into the house and out of view. It was him, Kiri-something, the guy Andrew met with in the parking garage.”

  “Kirilov. His name is Kirilov. Glasses, thin, well-dressed, right?”

  Garvey nodded. “So, I’m shitting my pants. I’m not armed. I think about searching Andy’s bedroom for a piece, but instead I take out my telephone and pretend to start talking on it. I figure he’s not here to kill just anybody. More bodies, more problems, right? My voice tells Kirilov that someone is in the house, and it’s not Andrew. I start talking loud and joking with this imaginary person on the phone about the weather and such. Sure enough, he sneaks out the back. Don’t mind saying I thought I was gonna have a heart attack though.”

  “You said you were going to search Andy’s room for a gun. Did you expect him to have one?”

  “I guess I assumed. We always had ‘em around in the house. He grew up shooting with me and his brothers. He was a Marine like me.”

  “I got that.”

  “So, I waited for him to get home. He asks me what I’m doing there. I lie and say I was waiting in the car outside, when a man broke in. I gave him the description. He asks if he had a gun, and I lie again and say I was watching from outside and wasn’t sure.”

  “So, how did you end up at Kirilov’s house tonight?”

  “Don’t rush me. It’s my damn story. Andrew told me not to come to his house anymore. It wasn’t safe, he said.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I told him it wasn’t safe to talk to the police. He said that the police were the only ones who could protect him. I said the police were bought, which I still think. He said you knew things he didn’t know how you could have ascertained. But that didn’t mean you were bought, he said. Plus he said you wanted him to turn on Kirilov.”

  “Anything else?”

  “I asked how a police cruiser was going to protect him from these gangsters. He said it was only temporary. He had a plan. I figured he meant witness protection but he wouldn’t say.”

  “What about the bag? Did you ask him about that?”

  “He may have been thinking of making a run for it.”

  “From us or the Russians?”

  Garvey shrugged. “Can you blame him?”

  “Only because it’s sort of my job to blame people for things.”

  “Okay, so what happened next?” Jim asked.

  “You arrested Kirilov. Had him a couple days. Andrew wasn’t answering his phone. I started to wonder if something had happened to him. The bag was gone from his house when I checked there. BMW still in the driveway though. Then you released Kirilov. Had no idea where to find my son, so I went to Kirilov’s house, saw some activity. Two men came to the house, men I’d seen before, older than the boys who lived there. I thought about going around the back and sneaking in. I hadn’t made the mistake of coming unarmed this time. I waited until the two older men left, snuck around back, and came in through the glass door.

  “Upstairs were voices, so I walked up, checking my rear periodically. There was an argument. Kirilov, the one with glasses, was at his desk, tearing apart a computer. The blond guy was talking kinda angry to him in Russian. I stepped into the doorway and leveled my pistols at them. The two of them took it real calm, but were clearly surprised to see me.

  “I ask where my son is, and Kirilov balks, so I tell him to cut the shit, because I saw him in Andy’s house with a gun, ‘cause he killed Badcocke. He says he didn’t. ‘Your son doesn’t have to fear me,’ he said. He must have seen a resemblance or maybe he knew who I was for some other reason, but I hadn’t said Andrew was my son. Tells me he’s leaving. ‘The hell you are,’ I said. I go telling them to get on their knees, but they don’t budge. Kirilov says to not be alarmed but there is a guy with a gun behind me. I knew better than to look, but then I felt the muzzle press into my neck. I kept my guns leveled.

  “This Kirilov, real cool and calm, says if I lower my guns, they’d tie me up and not hurt me, since they’re leaving. I relent, but I ask him why he needed to kill the Griffin family. ‘It was not my choice,’ he said, for the first time showing any emotion at all in this encounter. Says he didn’t know there’d be kids or a woman. He was true to his word. They didn’t hurt me. They left.”

  “Did you see them with any guns?”

  “A few. Pistols mostly.”

  “Did you see anything that fired 5.56mm?”

  “No,” Garvey said, shaking his head. “No, I’m sure I didn’t. Could have been tucked away in a bag though I guess.”

  “Did they give any indication where they were going?”

  “No, but somewhere on the water. I heard them speaking Russian but then one said the word Dramamine. I was sure of it. So I imagine they were getting on a boat.”

  “Anything? Anything else?”

  “I’ve told you everything. Now in return I need your word, since Andrew has cast his lot with you, that you will keep him safe. Especially from anyone in the department who works for the Russians.”

  “You know what that means now, right?” Corus asked.

  “I know. I’ll never see him again if he goes into witness protection. But he’s still my son. I’d like to rest knowing that he’s safe.”

  FORTY-THREE

  An APB was put out for Andre Kirilov that evening. Ed Garvey came to the 3rd precinct the next morning to give his official statement and work with the forensic artist to give the description of the blonde man and the third roommate. Garvey was also asked to give a description of Kirilov. Felicia Bowman insisted this would help prove to a judge or jury that Garvey had spoken with Kirilov that night.

  The next two days were spent visiting marinas and checking up on every remaining lead.

  Waves lapped at the concrete boat launch as Deputy Rosen crossed the last marina off his list. He pocketed the field pad and heaved a sigh. “Well, that’s all she wrote. Literally, these are all the marinas Deputy Chambers wrote down for us.”

  “How many hundreds of private docks did we miss? How many public marinas are within reasonable driving distance, an hour, two, five hours away. Who knows? Their boat, assuming they even left by boat, could have launched from any of a thousand places.”

  Corus jerked his head, and they stepped out of the salt air into their car.

  “Where to?”

  Corus thought for a moment. “I have no idea.”

  Rosen took his hand off the key in the ignition.

  “Could we…cross reference boat ownership by name? Look for anything that sounds Russian?”

  “That’ll go over well. Maybe next we can just pass an ordinance that all Russians have to wear
a hammer and sickle pinned to their coats.”

  “Oh right. Sorry.”

  “I’m just being sarcastic. There are times where racial profiling is just common damn sense but this isn’t one. Even if we had a list of every Russian boat owner in the Puget Sound, there’s no practical way of finding out who helped them. And it doesn’t bring Kirilov back, or his friends.”

  “Why do you think all three of them left?”

  “Good question.”

  “Do you think one of them was the second shooter?” Rosen asked.

  “I would love to have their names and look into their backgrounds, but guessing blind, I’d say that makes sense.”

  “Even if there was a second shooter, why would the three of them leave?”

  “Another good question. Who’s to say they all left on a boat? Maybe the others are just moving house again, staying in the area. Sounds like they did that periodically anyhow.”

  “Kirilov said we are leaving, according to Garvey. Do you think if they were sticking around they’d have let him see their faces and live? Seems sloppy for such cold-blooded killers.”

  “Rosen, you’re asking all the right questions.”

  “But that doesn’t bring them back, either.”

  “No it doesn’t,” Corus said in resignation.

  The windows began to fog up from their breath.

  “It’s Christmas in three days,” Rosen said.

  Corus grunted.

  “Forecast said it was gonna snow.”

  “How much?”

  “Half an inch.”

  “Hmm.”

  Rosen started the car and set the fan control to defrost. The car warmed, and slowly the windows cleared from the bottom up.

  “There’s a little place down the road here,” Corus said. “They have a pretty good selection.”

  “Of what?”

  “Beers.”

  “It’s 11am.”

  “Just drive, Deputy.”

  Rosen pulled out of the parking lot and turned right on SR 30. They found “The Dungeness” and went inside. They sat at the bar and Corus ordered an Old Rasputin. Rosen asked for a Pepsi. “He’ll have one of these,” Corus insisted.

  “Listen I’m no prude, but we’re on duty.”

  “When you’re CID, you’re always on duty. Relax, Rosen. Just stop thinking for a minute.”

  They sipped at their pints and Corus felt it warm him from the inside, despite it being cold.

  “Rosen, the deal was I had to send three murders to prosecution if I was gonna get my old job back as Chief Detective. But I think that may have applied to me keeping this job at all.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Yeah, you do. I think this is it for me.”

  “How can they? You found the killer. It’s not your fault the Country Prosecutor didn’t put him away.”

  “Your heart may be more charitable than the Captain’s or the Sheriff’s.”

  “Plus, you have the Garveys to testify against URM construction and the PacTrust money laundering.”

  “That will be a federal prosecution. Maybe it will reflect well enough on the department to keep the Sheriff happy, but letting two murderers slip through our fingers. That’s gonna chap his ass.”

  “It’s not fair. Why does the department seem hell bent on getting rid of its best people?”

  “I dunno.”

  “Do you think Ed Garvey is right?” Rosen asked. “That the department is corrupt or bought by Russians?”

  “I think you’d be hard-pressed to find a law enforcement agency that is pure white. Looking the other way on a traffic infraction because a girl is pretty is corrupt in my mind. There are all manner of small attempts at bribery and favoritism. Some big, some little.”

  “You think he’s just a paranoid old man then?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “So what’s next? For the investigation I mean?”

  “It goes into file boxes.”

  “So this is it?”

  “This is it. Unless Kirilov is dumb enough to resurface in the Seattle area or pop up back on our radar in a country with an extradition agreement with the US.”

  “Russia isn’t one of those countries is it?”

  “Definitely not.”

  “That’s so depressing.”

  Rosen took a long sip of his beer and set it back down on the coaster.

  “Rosen,” Corus said, “when you get into CID, don’t do it their way. Trust your instincts. Learn the procedures, sure. But where it counts, do the job the way you see fit. Damn the repercussions.”

  “You think I can get into CID? I thought there was a hiring freeze.”

  “A position is about to open up.”

  FORTY-FOUR

  Corus once again lay on Eugene’s table. He’d asked for Eugene to work on his hip-to-ass scar again, hoping that would free one last bolt of brilliance that could magically put the Skokim Pass case together again. But Eugene suggested he lay on his back and told him to keep all his clothes on.

  “So how does my chi feel?”

  “It feels alright,” Eugene said. “Now don’t move.”

  “There,” Eugene said. “You can talk, but don’t move your head.” A row of needles ran from the bridge of Corus’ nose to his hairline.

  “So what’s this gonna do?”

  “This one? This one will give you the ability to fly.”

  Corus laughed. “I’d never have to sit in traffic again.”

  “If only. Nah, but this feels like the right direction given our previous sessions.”

  “Is there a system here or are you just firing in the dark?”

  “Part system, part other.”

  “What’s the other?”

  “I guess you might call it intuition.”

  “Mojo?”

  “Sure, mojo.”

  “No, really. What is it?”

  “It’s a feeling. There is a searching part of me, always looking for the source of the pain, the cause of the conflict.”

  “Conflict?” Corus asked.

  “Sometimes it’s physical, like how a rock’s motion can conflict with the static inertia of a bone. Sometimes it’s an immaterial conflict. Two sides battling in a larger war.”

  “How do you know who to help?”

  “Whichever one is losing.”

  Corus had to prevent himself from scrunching up his face in confusion.

  “So you help the bad guy?”

  “No, not really. Even good things need to be kept in balance. Work and family for instance. Happiness and hardship.”

  “So, are you saying that bad is good?”

  “There’s bad bad and there’s good bad. Bad bad is I guess what as a Christian I’d call evil. Good bad is taking the sweet so we can enjoy the sour. Eating your vegetables, unpleasant at first, but feeds you, gives to you. Getting stuck with needles is technically a good bad I think. People who embrace the good bad, tend to be better off, so long as they don’t overdo it.”

  “So, you keep the good bad balanced with the good, in order to drive out evil?”

  “That’s pretty close to the mark.”

  “Hmm.” Corus thought on that. “Tell me something. How do you qualify the act of eradicating evil, the bad bad, in something larger than a body, like society?”

  “Well, that’s a tricky one. Let me see. You got to kill a germ or a disease in your body. You can’t put ‘em on a Greyhound bus and say see ya later.”

  “True. So, is that different from society killing to maintain its own balance?”

  “When you cut out a disease, you cut out something from outside you. When you kill a man, you kill a part of that society.”

  “An amputation.”

  “Right. Comparing the human organism to the function of society is a bit outdated, philosophically speaking. However, killing is an amputation of sorts. That’s some heavy stuff. You only amputate when that evil will kill the rest of the body.”

  “So
the question is, how evil is evil enough?”

  “Exactly. What if someone was just gonna kill one person a year? That is evil, despicable, but society would move on, as a whole. Human society can tolerate a great deal of inhumanity.”

  “So, we shouldn’t kill people even if they kill others? That doesn’t feel right to me.”

  “I can’t say I disagree in my gut. I know we should kill evil. But I don’t know either if our penal system or mental health system is equipped to take evil out of our wayward souls.”

  “True, but you’re being too pragmatic for a man who sticks people with hippie magic needles. Theoretically, how do you kill the evil without killing the man?”

  Eugene laughed. “Men can become good again. I believe in redemption. I’ve seen it.”

  “What if they don’t want to?”

  “Well… hey man, you got me there. You’re making me think today, Corus. That’s good.” Eugene sighed. “Well, I guess that’s why we give some men badges. For when those who are doing evil don’t want to be redeemed.”

  “I’ve killed people,” Corus said, though he wasn’t sure why.

  “I know,” Eugene whispered. “I know.”

  “I feel bad about it.”

  “But then again, you don’t.”

  Corus huffed a laugh at being caught. “I sleep well enough, I guess. But I’m not naïve enough to be certain I was right. I’ll always have a sliver of doubt that what we did over there wasn’t right.”

  “In Afghanistan?”

  “Yeah. I wonder if it was the West’s fault to begin with, or never our fight. That I was complicit in the travesty of power deciding what justice is.”

  “There is that. Justice tends to be what the people with the most guns say it is. That’s probably why I didn’t become a cop or a lawyer. I’ll stick to keeping folks healthy. Bending the unseen forces of the universe to my will is so much simpler than all that.”

  Corus laughed. “Don’t know why I’m bothering over it. I guess it won’t be my problem either now.”

  “Oh yeah. What you thinking of doing?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll go back to school. Become a history professor or something. Maybe become a Private Investigator. Who knows?”