by Mark Hazard
“You talk different than when we first met. You seem connected to something.”
“I feel like I’ve found a balance within being a failed cop. No use fighting it.”
“I don’t believe you mean that.”
“No. I don’t. But it feels nicer to lie about it.”
FORTY-FIVE
A single snowflake landed on Corus’ nose just before he stepped into his Explorer to leave Eugene’s. When he arrived home twenty minutes later, the roadsides were coated thinly in white, though the road itself had melted any flakes that fell upon it. Corus slept fitfully. He lay awake for some time in the still dark. He glanced at the clock on his phone. It read 3:30 am. He tried to shut his eyes and return to sleep. Something rattled around in his subconscious mind, like a pebble in a shoe. The harder he tried to clear his mind, the more it upset him.
First it threw up a wash of impotent ire at the murderers getting away. Damn Andy Garvey. If he hadn’t been trying to cover his ass in order to assure his deal, he would have told them earlier about Kirilov’s ties to the money laundering. Then they probably could have kept him in custody longer with the Feds’ involvement or by pressing charges.
Corus pushed the thoughts away. They were futile. He couldn’t let the phantasms of his past overwhelm him. He wouldn’t wallow. He wouldn’t pout. He’d trudge on into his unknown future, even if it did seem awfully depressing.
He looked at his clock again. 4:19 am, the painfully bright screen read.
Corus got up and walked to the bathroom, wearing only his sweatpants. He relieved his bladder and came back down the hall, catching a sea of white out the kitchen window. He walked closer to it and could feel the cold pouring off the window onto his bare arms and torso. He titled his head and saw the street was awash in pure white lit by the moon. It was a beautiful sight, but a dangerous one in the Seattle area. If only the sheriff could just fire him over the phone instead of making him drive through mayhem to be administratively amputated in person.
A thought struck him, and he glanced at the clock on the microwave. He shivered and ran his hands up and down his arms, then cranked the stove to hi for the teakettle.
Corus thought of the assortment of teas he’d found at Kirilov’s home.
Was he a tea drinker?
He fished around the cupboard above his microwave, pushing aside bags of coffee and filters, to find a box of tea. Corus was a coffee man when the desire for caffeine arose, but now he took two bags of green tea from the box. It must have been at least two years old, since Karen had to have bought it before getting arrested. He set them in a travel mug and left the kitchen for his bedroom where he dressed as normal but for a black wool tie to match his woolen charcoal trousers. When he went to fetch his ankle holster, he remembered that it was currently in the service of one Andy Garvey, off somewhere being hunted by the mob.
The teakettle whistled. Corus made his strong tea and closed the travel mug. He went back to his room and retrieved his keys, wallet, phone and his hip holster. Over it, he donned his light brown overcoat. By 4:55 am he was on the road, car heater blasting warmth into the car.
Only a few cars were on the road at 5 am, so his drive to Lt. Chu’s house was uneventful. Chu emerged from his bungalow bleary eyed, shirt undone, coat thrown over one arm, holding a coffee mug. He baby-stepped carefully to the curb and Corus’ car.
“The only reason I don’t hate you for this, is that it was such a good idea to beat the traffic.”
“It’s going to be mayhem. And if we don’t beat traffic, we’ll never reach HQ.”
Chu nodded. Corus made for the highway.
“I had the craziest dream right before you woke me up. I was riding on a dragon, and we were sweeping over the city breathing fire onto everything, whole streets and blocks. Everything went up in flames.”
“Did you fall asleep watching Game of Thrones again?”
“No, I was watching Friday Night Lights, thank you very much.”
“So what happened?”
“Oh well, Coach Taylor finds out that this guy that Connie Britton works with kind of has a crush on her and—”
“No, L-T in the dream. The dream.”
“Oh, well, we’re flying over the city, me and my dragon, and blasting stuff with flame. I couldn’t stop the dragon, but I didn’t want to either. It was like my wild side was unleashed.”
“Your wild side? You mean like when you do paperwork in a blue pen instead of black?”
“I have untapped reserves, Corus. There is a tiger in me. He’s just worried most of the time about getting his kids to violin practice on time, but he’s still a tiger.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Corus said, without sarcasm.
“Some of what we burned sputtered to ash and fell, but some buildings stayed up and became beautiful glass towers. Some streets cracked and crumbled. Others melted and cooled into shiny gold.”
“Sounds pretty wicked, actually,” Corus said.
“It was just a dream,” Chu said. “But it’s crazy how some dreams feel more real than reality.”
Corus inhaled, trying to stifle a yawn that escaped anyway. “Too bad.”
They got off I-5 in Georgetown and visited a MacDonald’s drive-thru that Corus knew opened early. Corus parked in the lot. They unwrapped their breakfast sandwiches, which steamed and fogged the windows.
“Oh God,” Chu said. “I know it’s cancer on a bun, but does anything taste as good as a McMuffin in the morning?”
At 7:55 am Corus shook Chu awake. He grunted and yawned. “We’re here?”
“Yep.” Corus sipped his tea. “One last time.”
Chu sat forward and rubbed the sleep from his face. “You’re not getting fired.”
Corus just grunted and sipped again at his tea.
Chu stood up out of the Explorer. “We beat the traffic into the city?”
“Yep. No problem.” Corus remained seated, as Chu buttoned his white uniform shirt.
“Ah good. It’s going to be a real crazy one out there today.”
Chu tucked his shirt into his pants and Corus stepped out. They walked from the parking garage into the Sheriff’s Department headquarters building in downtown Seattle.
Corus and Chu were invited to sit before Sheriff’s Honchak’s wide, mahogany desk. Enough papers and files stood atop it to convince Corus that Honchak was a hard-working man, perhaps too much so. Word had it he stopped just shy of micromanaging his precinct leaders and other staff.
“I wouldn’t have blamed you for being a bit late with this snow. There’s got to be two inches at my place in Kirkland.”
“We got a very early start, sir,” Lt. Chu said.
“Very prescient.” Sheriff Honchak put on a pair of reading glasses and regarded a sheet of paper. He was a stately man, but the action made him seem so even more. “So, you took Skokim Pass first.” Honchak looked to Corus over his spectacles.
“Yes, sir.”
“Says here you found the killer, but he was released for lack of evidence?”
“That was Prosecutor Bowman’s determination, Sheriff.”
“It was because of that lawyer, Roundley,” Chu added.
Sheriff Honchak gave a knowing grumble and looked to the sheet again. “And this second shooter. You’re certain there were two?”
“I did some experimentation with a gentleman from the Tacoma ballistics lab. Nothing is one hundred percent but the indication is very strong.” At the Sheriff’s request, Corus took him through a more detailed explanation of why they had come to that conclusion.
“A fascinating study,” Honchak said. “That seems a likely conclusion. Fine work, Deputy Inspector.”
“Thank you sir.” Corus was not going to let one compliment fool him into thinking he was safe.
“The other victim, Badcocke, he was tied up in all this how?”
“He was the bank manager and a ringleader with Miles Griffin of the laundering operation.”
“He was killed with
the same weapon as three of the four Griffins?”
“Yes, sir.”
Honchak nodded and held up the paper.
“This Andrew Garvey, he’s being cooperative?”
“When he’s able to calm his fears enough to think straight,” Corus said.
“And he is out on his own with the Russian mob after him?”
“Yes, sir. He and I agreed that a police escort would only draw attention to him. But he comes when he is called.”
“I can’t say his fear is unjustified. When I was working in San Diego earlier in my career, we did have a few men in his position all of a sudden decide to have an accident rather than testify.”
Corus considered that. What was it Kirilov had said? “Andrew Garvey has nothing to fear from me.” That was a curious statement. In truth, Corus had never once heard Kirilov speak. He imagined he spoke the way he moved, smooth, unfaltering.
Andrew Garvey has nothing to fear from me…
“Will he bring them the evidence they need to get federal convictions? I mean the US Attorney’s office?”
“Yes sir,” Chu offered. “He was very well placed.”
He was very well placed.
“There was some issue with his credibility,” The Sheriff said. “Was there not?”
Corus was staring off, so Chu answered. “He elaborated his version of events to help us put Kirilov away,” Chu said.
“He lied,” Corus said, turning back to them. “He said he was deathly afraid of Kirilov. The older Garvey said that Kirilov had come to Andrew’s house with a gun the day after Badcocke was killed.”
Kirilov had come through the front door at 11am. Not very clandestine. He’d only removed his gun when Andy didn’t answer. They’d only ever met in the parking garage. Why would Kirilov come to his home if not to silence him?
“Did he say why Miles Griffin got killed?”
“He wasn’t sure. He saw Miles and Badcocke get into an argument. Miles left early, and was murdered that evening.
“How did these assassins find him?”
“We never found out sir,” Chu said. “Kirilov is a computer ace. Perhaps he hacked the Griffins’ computers or cellphones somehow. Maybe he knew about Miles Griffins’ habits, his tendencies.
“Damn if technology isn’t changing the game.”
“Yes sir,” Chu said.
“Any word come back on Kirilov’s roommates?”
“We only have the forensic images. We haven’t had much luck doing facial analysis.”
“What about fingerprints? Surely in their own home…”
Chu said, “They wiped down the house thoroughly. I mean from top to bottom.
“Is he a flight risk?”
“Pardon sir?”
“Is there a danger he will flee from testifying? Garvey?” Sheriff Honchak made a circling motion with one hand. “So as to avoid danger?”
Corus thought of the go bag Ed Garvey had found in Andy’s house.
“Perhaps,” Chu answered, “if we hadn’t offered him a deal, he may have fled and taken his chances on his own. But now he’s very eager to testify and be placed in witness protection.”
“When do you find out if he’s accepted?”
Corus looked to Chu, who said, “He’s meeting with the Marshalls this morning for his interview. Bowman is helping him.”
“Good woman. Sadly too smart to take on Roundley for us.”
“Indeed sir,” Corus said. “Roundley had us in a credibility bind by proving that Andy had lied about Kirilov coming to intimidate him. Andy hadn’t known Kirilov left the state after the murders.”
What did Roundley say? Hell, I might even ask the jury why Andrew Garvey might have an interest in displacing blame onto my client…
Sheriff Honchak removed his glasses and rested a cheek on the hand holding them. The motion was oddly casual for the stiff and straightforward Sheriff. “I don’t know what to do with you, Deputy Inspector.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Corus said.
“Excuse me?”
Corus lurched to his feet and looked around for a receptacle. He lunged for a potted plant and tossed half a pint of green tea and two sausage McMuffins into it. Corus wiped his mouth and staggered to the Sheriff’s door. He had almost righted himself by the time he hit the elevator button in the hallway. Once back in the parking garage, Corus was shaking, fumbling at his keys. He managed to unlock his car door and climb in. He started the car and peeled out backward.
Lt. Chu shot out from between two cars and clapped a hand on the hood. He was breathing hard. Chu flung the passenger door open and gasped, “What the heck Corus?!”
“Get in!”
Before Chu’s door had closed, he was already pulling away, down the decline of the parking garage. Corus drove like a man possessed, but once on the snowy streets he was forced to slow measurably. Fortunately, he was able to get on I-5 South in only four blocks.
FORTY-SIX
“Call Rosen or Bowman. Tell them to go ahead with the US Marshall’s interview, but under no circumstances let him leave.”
“Garvey?”
“Yes, Garvey, goddam it!”
“No need to get snippy, jeez.” Chu dialed and rung for a few seconds. “Nothing. Rosen let me go to voicemail.
“Try Bowman.”
Chu dialed Bowman, but to no avail. “Sorry man, she isn’t picking up either.”
“Call…call Chambers or whoever is the duty officer. Tell her to get Rosen to pick up his damn phone.”
“Chu got through to the duty desk. “Hey, it’s Lt. Chu. Is Deputy Rosen in with any US Marshals or Prosecutor Bowman? Alright thanks.” He pulled the phone from his ear slightly, and mouthed, “checking.”
Corus tried to get into the passing lane, but the fastest cars were only going fifty. He honked his horn and flashed his brights trying to get motorists out of his way. “It’s a goddam passing lane, not a goddam go-as-fast-as-you-damn-please-lane.”
“Hey, Rosen,” Chu said into the phone. “Is Garvey there? He is? I need you to keep him there, use any excuse.”
“Don’t alert him,” Corus shouted. Chu held the phone up for him to speak into it. Corus leaned over. “Make it seem procedural and administrative. Don’t alarm him in any way.”
“You got that?” Chu said into the phone again. “I don’t know either. Alright, call me if you have any questions.”
Chu hung up. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?”
“It’s Garvey,” Corus said. He gritted his teeth. His eyes were hot, like to brim over with angry tears. “Garvey might have been the second shooter.”
“What?”
“I dunno. I dunno. Nothing makes sense anymore. We have to stall him. I have to figure some things out.” Corus growled in frustration and panic.
“What makes you think that? What do we need to figure out?”
“Where has Garvey been staying?”
“I don’t know. He says he’s been paying cash at hotels. If the Russians can’t trace him, then we can’t either.”
“His bag, maybe it’s in his rig. It might be at the parking lot.”
“What would that prove?”
“I don’t know Chu. I don’t know anything anymore. Call Chambers back. Tell her to peek in the back of Garvey’s rig for us.”
They continued driving as fast as possible back to the precinct, pushing the SUV’s controllability. New snowflakes began to fall and traffic slowed to a crawl. Chu made the call again and asked Chambers to inspect Garvey’s vehicle.
“It’s an old GMC SUV,” Corus said.
Corus banged on the top of the steering wheel. He was boxed in in the middle lane. He continued honking and flashing his brights, occasionally getting cars to move over. Suddenly, blue and red sparkled in his rearview mirror.
“Ah great. This is just what we need,” Corus said.
Chu hung up the phone. “I got an idea.”
He unbuckled his seatbelt, crawled over the back seat
and pressed his credential to the rear window. He pressed his chest up to the slightly foggy window and pointed to the gold star embroidered onto his chest. The police siren whooped once and the car edged its way over into the fast lane. Corus braked enough to let the cruiser come alongside. He rolled his window down and held his own badge up. Cruiser’s side window rolled down.
The Seattle PD officer leaned over, trying to assess what must have been a very confusing scene.
“King County Sheriffs!” Corus yelled. “Help us clear a path.”
“What’s your name?”
“Chu!” Corus called.
The Seattle PD officer made a call on his radio and waited a long moment. Corus tuned his own scanner into the SPD dispatch channel. He heard dispatch respond, “Unit 34 there is indeed a Lieutenant Chu with the Sheriff’s department. Over.”
Chu got on the radio and looked past Corus to the officer in the cruiser. “This is Lieutenant Chu. Clear us a path. We don’t have lights or siren. It’s a grave emergency.”
Normally the use of police sirens only made bad traffic worse, as people are looking around for cops rather than for dangerous situations. Nevertheless, the officer turned his siren on and moved over to the far right lane. Corus followed on his tail. It was easier and safer to get people to pull over in the slowest lane. The constant blare of the siren got motorists far ahead to begin moving aside. They made it up to forty-five miles per hour.
The cruiser led them all the way to their exit off of I-5, getting them at least halfway to the precinct. Corus flashed his lights in thanks and carried on westward.
Deputy Chambers called back and told Chu that there was no bag in the GMC SUV outside.
“So what are you gonna do?” Chu asked. “Question him?”
Corus shook his head. “No…” There had to be a smarter way. “If Garvey is tied up in this more than he told us, he has to have some evidence, some link. Something just isn’t right. It’s like a photocopy of a photocopy. The edges are just fuzzy is all.”
“I know it upset you to lose the Russians, but let’s not overreact. You obviously aren’t feeling well. Let’s just take a deep breath.”