Burnout (Goosey Larsen Book 1)

by James Vachowski

  Chief Greene squawked one last curse at Big Jim before he looked up and caught sight of Dookie Jenkins and Slipper Johnson a little further down the block, just leaning up against a patrol car and shooting the breeze. The Chief let out a roar and shot towards them, dragging his nightstick along on the sidewalk as he went. It must have been a double day where our rotating shifts overlap for those two stellar supervisors to be on duty at the same time. I tried to see which of those guys the Chief would dig into first, but my view was obstructed by Big Jim’s stomach. I stopped short and pretended to be out of breath, but after that short jog it really wasn’t much of an act. “What happened, boss?”

  Jim frowned. His face was still flushed from being on the receiving end of an ass chewing. “The hell does it look like?” He waved a hairy arm toward the building.

  I glanced over at the main entrance. It looked like one hell of a mess, but even I wasn’t stupid enough to say so. There was another crowd of cops hanging out in front of the doorway, a regular Who’s Who of South Carolina law enforcement. It was easy to tell the groups apart since cops always wear jackets with big letters splashed across the back whenever they show up to crime scenes. When big groups of cops are standing around smoking and spitting, it’s funny but it always seems just like Old Timers’ Day at the ballpark. Pretty much everybody was there, milling around and telling lies. There was a handful of SLED agents wearing matching olive green cargo pants and black baseball hats. I think those guys must have coordinated their beer guts and goatees, too.

  Central detectives Powers and Geary were standing around next to them, and of course those nerds were wearing dress shirts and ties. They were talking to a couple of FBI agents, both of them clean shaven types with slicked hair and creased pants that looked straight from the dry cleaners. The four of them seemed to be getting along particularly well, probably because they were all stuck-up college boys.

  Only one cop was standing off by himself, and the ponytail and earring set him apart even more. This dude wasn’t wearing an agency jacket but the bottom of his black T-shirt was pulled back to reveal a Glock and a badge on his hip. I figured that guy had to have been representing the DEA, if only because no other cop in the state of South Carolina could have gotten away with looking like that. Our narcotics guys always bitched about how they weren’t allowed to grow their hair long even when they were working undercover, but those guys bitched about pretty much everything. A couple steps past the narc, a big group of firefighters were standing around by their trucks and doing nothing, which is pretty much what firefighters do best.

  I looked back at Jim. “If I had to guess I’d say it’s a fire, but what’s the deal with the cop convention? Is the Fraternal Order of Police holding a recruiting drive?”

  He snorted. “It’s an arson, genius. Some bum broke into the building this morning and set a fire in one of the offices.”

  That explained the SLED agents, at least. Any time we had a suspicious fire, those state jerks would send down one of their dog handlers to search the site for chemicals or whatnot. I nodded, but wondered why Big Jim needed my services when he already had the best and brightest to choose from. My boss just stood there quietly, working his jaw back and forth like he was chewing on a steak, so I didn’t want to interrupt his thinking. I waited until I saw the flabby lips come to a stop before I said, “You said a bum did it? So we’ve got a suspect then?”

  He gave a little grunt. “Yeah. A motion sensor was activated in one of the offices. Just after the patrol units were dispatched to the burglary, there was a second activation from the fire alarms. The hose draggers pretty much took it from there.” Jim nodded his head at the firefighters. “I’ll say this for Fire, though, those guys must have gotten in pretty fast to have kept the blaze to just one room. They said that the suspect locked himself in a storage closet…you believe that? They kicked the door in and found the guy lying unconscious on the floor.”

  That definitely struck me as odd, since you’d think that an arsonist would want to get outside to watch the fire burn. “So what, was he trying to commit suicide or something?”

  “Looks that way.” Jim set his jaw and added, “Stupid bastard was probably looking to take a few other people with him.” We stood there for a moment, watching the firefighters walking back and forth as they tried to look important. Jim still wasn’t looking at me when he finally went on. “It’s a mess, but at least it clears itself. The arsonist died from smoke inhalation before they even got him in the ambulance.”

  I let out a sigh of relief. Even if Big Jim did stick me with the case, it’d be an easy win with the suspect already identified. Even better he was already dead so there’d be no court appearances required. We were talking about a half-page report, double spaced, and I could still be home before lunch.

  I looked over at Powers and Geary, who had broken off into a huddle. The two of them were sneaking peeks over at me, probably whispering about who’d catch the case since one of those slackers had to have been next up on the duty roster. Once I saw them trying to duck the work, it only took a minute for me to make up my own mind. It’s good to volunteer for something every so often, if only to make people think you care about your work. Plus, getting credit for one more closure on the weekly stat sheet sure wouldn’t hurt anything.

  Powers and Geary both started walking toward us and I realized they must have been thinking along those same lines. There was no way in hell I was going to let those two weasels steal my softball case, especially not after I’d already gotten paged out for it, so I turned to Jim and blurted, “Boss, you want me to go ahead and write this one up?”

  Jim finally stopped daydreaming long enough to look down at me. “Yeah. I thought that’d be best, seeing as how the deceased is one of your suspects. Does the name James Smithson ring a bell?”

  My jaw fell open. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

  “Nope. When the pump jockeys dragged him out of the building and handed him over to EMS, one of our patrol rookies recognized his face from your flyer.”

  I couldn’t believe my luck. I wasn’t sure whether the cause had been clean living or good karma, but either way I’d definitely just caught the biggest break of my career. I mean, I would’ve been content with simply having the arsonist die during the fire, but the fact that the suspect was James Smithson was the icing on the cake. Having Smithson dead effectively closed one of my missing persons case, and since he’d been committing another crime when he bought it there wouldn’t be any pressure to dig deeper. I stood there for a moment feeling good about myself and trying to remember the last time I’d had so many cases dumped on my desk, but I’d risen to the challenge and cleared them all! I mean yeah, I always knew I was a pretty sharp detective and all, but at that moment I felt absolutely unstoppable. Yeah, it looked like my stock was definitely on the rise.

  I basked in my newfound glory as I took in the crime scene once again. Both FBI agents were talking with the DEA guy now, huddled in close as if they were exchanging classified information or something, but I knew better. They were probably just planning where to meet for lunch since Federal Fridays were half a work day at most. The Feds rarely do any investigations themselves; they just show up late and take credit for all the work the local cops have done.

  Still, I couldn’t help wondering why the Feds were on the scene at all. “Okay, boss, hear me out. I know the SLED jerks are required to show up to arson cases.”

  Jim let out a rude little grunt.

  I pointed at the G-men. “But what’s up with the Feebs?” I’d first heard the term ‘Feebs’ a couple years back as a combination of ‘FBI’ and ‘feeble.’ It was a short but fitting description for most of their agents.

  Jim didn’t like those college boys any more than I did, probably because he’d been turned down by all the federal agencies. He snickered. “They’re probably having a pissing contest over who gets the case, you know how those feds work. The agency with the bigger budget always wins.”
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br />   I didn’t quite follow him. “They want credit for handling some piddling arson case? Don’t get me wrong, that’s great, less work for us. But what’s in it for them?”

  Big Jim met my eyes. “Goosey, a motion alarm went off first. The smoke alarm came a few minutes after that. Once the ladder truck got here, they knew someone was in the building so they had to get him out.”

  I just nodded, so Jim went on. “What do you think Fire did next?”

  “Hell, I don’t know.” I shrugged my shoulders. “They got a cat out of a tree?”

  Jim raised an eyebrow. I wondered why he hadn’t laughed at my best material, so I looked back over my shoulder and saw two pump jockeys giving me the evil eye. Turning back around, I made sure to lower my voice a little before adding, “Jim, apart from washing trucks and cooking chili, I’ve never seen those guys actually do any work.”

  Big Jim rubbed his belly and sighed. “The firefighters put out the blaze, then went through the building with a couple of our patrol cops. You know, to check if there was anyone left inside.”

  “Oh.” I guessed that sounded like a pretty good idea. “So did they find anyone?”

  “Nope. But apparently Smithson had broken into an office on the far side of the building, and that’s what set off the motion alarm. Really tore the place up, too, but there might be more to it than that. By the looks of things…”

  The last group of firemen walked out the main door, and one of their chiefs waved us over. The Feebs adjusted their jackets in synchronized motions and walked up to meet him.

  “…I guess we’re about to find out.”

  The battalion chief stopped us in front of the doorway, which was blocked off with yellow Crime Scene tape. I wasn’t personally familiar with the Fire Department’s people, but I figured this guy had to be a somebody since he was the only one wearing a white dress shirt. The dude took a slow look around at all of us standing there. It was me and Jim, the two FBI dweebs and the DEA agent, who was looking pretty sore right about then. It seemed that Big Jim had guessed right and whatever the debate had been about, it had been won by the FBI. The fire chief jotted down all our names in his notepad, and I suddenly realized that I hadn’t even brought a pen with me. He gave a single, quick nod and said, “Okay guys, it’s all yours.”

  One of the FBI agents lunged at me with an outstretched hand. “Special Agent Dave Mackenzie, FBI.” He’d gotten the drop on me, so I had no choice but to shake. His was a firm, solid grip, no nonsense about it. Of course I disliked him instantly.

  He nodded at his partner. “This is Special Agent Donald Feldman…” Feldman nodded at me. Up close, I could tell the two apart because Mackenzie had a couple more gray hairs and that automatically made him the senior man.

  Another nod, aimed a little further down the line. “…and Special Agent Ross Brewer, DEA.” Brewer’s face was set in stone as he stood there with his arms crossed. Clearly, he wasn’t too happy about having to sit on the sidelines.

  Mackenzie still hadn’t released my hand, so I felt kind of obligated to introduce myself as well. “Detective Mike Larsen, CPD.”

  I looked over my shoulder to introduce Big Jim and noticed that Squealer had somehow managed to slide in behind him, so I had no choice but to include him in my own starting lineup. “This is Lieutenant Jim Cobb, head of the Central Detective Division.”

  Mackenzie finally released my grip in order to try and crush Big Jim’s hand too, but pulled up short when he caught sight of all the liver spots and nicotine stains on Jim’s paw.

  I managed to hold back a smile. “And that’s Sergeant Mealor behind him. He’s just a crime scene technician.”

  Mackenzie didn’t bother to offer his hand to Squealer. “Well,” he said, “I’ve been told you’re looking for the deceased arson suspect in an unrelated case.”

  I bit my lip. “Well, I used to be looking for him.”

  He gave me a funny look, the same way all those feds do. I swear, those tools must get some kind of special training on how to treat everyone like a suspect. “You used to be?”

  I had to clench my teeth together in order to keep from laughing in his face. All those movies and television shows that go on and on about the FBI’s investigative powers are nothing but bull, since the real Feebs always seem to fall short. Out of professional courtesy, I tried to dumb it down for him. “James Smithson died, right?”

  He nodded. “Yes…”

  “Well, I couldn’t possibly arrest a dead man for a car break-in, now can I? So as of right now, all my cases are officially closed.”

  It was a rude answer, but when I heard Big Jim let out a snort I knew I was safe. Agent Mackenzie didn’t show any kind of reaction, although I thought I saw DEA Agent Brewer holding back a smile. Mackenzie glanced down at his notebook. “Where did the break-in take place?”

  “One of the parking garages across campus.”

  “I’d like to get a copy of the incident report that was written.”

  I sneered. “So go down to the station and talk to the records clerks. They charge a buck a page.”

  Mackenzie tilted his head to give me a curious look. All those FBI agents are so accustomed to having people bend over backwards for them, it probably came as a shock when I didn’t volunteer to jump at his command. Brewer was really smiling by that point and even though I couldn’t see him, I knew Big Jim must have been too.

  Mackenzie still kept his cool, and I couldn’t help wondering what it would take to make him lose it. He looked back down at his notebook and asked, “Who was the victim in that auto break-in?”

  I shook my head at the question, which was completely irrelevant. “One of the doctors that works here.” His face popped into my mind. “Charles Demming.”

  Mackenzie nodded and wrote the name down. He tapped his pen a few times before adding, “I understand that James Smithson had also been entered into NCIC as a missing person.”

  “That’s right.” I had no idea where he was going with his questions, and decided to watch my words a little closer. It’s best not to say too much when dealing with the Feebs since you never know if the conversation is going to be repeated back word for word in front of a grand jury.

  “And you were handling that case also?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long had he been missing?”

  “Almost five months.”

  “Hmm.” Mackenzie chewed on his pen while he thought. “That would explain a few things.” He said it softly, almost as if he was talking to himself. After one last, long pause, he asked, “What about his health? Did he have any medical conditions?”

  “None. His wife said he’d just taken a yearly physical before he up and left, and the guy even exercised pretty regularly.” Another thought popped into my head so I blurted out, “The only thing she mentioned was that he seemed a little distant over the holidays. Depressed, maybe.”

  Mackenzie nodded and tapped his pen against his teeth like he expected me to go on. I was getting pretty sick of the whole routine, so I let him have it: “Look, why the hell are you guys here, anyway? Since when did the FBI start giving a damn about local arson cases?”

  Behind me, Big Jim spoke up. “Goosey…”

  Agent Mackenzie raised a hand to cut him off. “I’m sorry, I should have explained first. Please follow me.” He turned and pushed his way through the double doors, and I clenched my fists as our little entourage followed along behind him. We turned a corner and walked through a mess of loose papers and file folders scattered across the floor. All the office doors up and down the hall were closed except the very last one, which was hanging wide open with a broken window. It took me a few seconds to piece it all together, but I realized that Doctor Demming’s office must have been the target of the break-in.

  I spoke the only words that came to mind. “What happened?”

  “This office was burglarized last night. Your patrol officers responded and found that the intrusion alarm was activated several minutes befor
e the smoke alarm.”

  I thought about that for a moment. “So Smithson did all this?”

  “It looks that way. The firemen did a walk-though of the entire building, and he was the only one inside.”

  Those damn crackheads, I thought, cursing them silently. All those people think about is getting their next fix, without any care for who they might inconvenience along the way. I scratched my head and took a moment to think before asking my next question. “So why’d he do it? Was he looking to steal a bunch of medications or something?”

  It was Big Jim’s turn to clear his throat, so I shifted my attention to him. “That’s what we thought at first, Goosey. I heard the call go out over the radio while I was on the way in and figured I’d better stop by, especially after all the trouble we’ve had here this week.”

  I nodded.

  “Well, I was just going to dump the arson case off on SLED and let those state clowns do their damn jobs for a change, at least until I spoke with the campus security supervisor. When he told me it was Doctor Demming’s office that had been ransacked, I remembered how you mentioned that the dude handled all their research on new drugs.”

  “Okay ...”

  Big Jim took a deep breath, then continued. “Yeah, so the obvious thought then was that Smithson had broken in here looking to steal a load of prescription meds. Happens every day, right? So that’s why I had Powers and Geary contact the DEA.”

  I looked over at Brewer, who still hadn’t said a word. He was a big, sketchy-looking sort of guy and I definitely would have crossed over to the other side of the street if I’d ever seen him coming. When he finally spoke up, it was with this soft voice that was nothing more than a whisper and everyone in our little circle had to bend in close to listen.

  “Burglary did seem like the most likely motive, especially when Lieutenant Cobb said that Smithson had a history of property crimes and was known to run the streets with drug addicts.”