“As if his little boy self could protect his mom against a grown man with a gun.” Now Mimi was mad.
“A grown man who’s a cop, for fuck’s sake!” Zemekis was, too.
“We’ve gotta shut this thing down, Zemekis!”
“It’s gonna take us three, four weeks before we’re ready to publish . . . uhoh. What’s that look? What are you thinking, Patterson? We can’t write any faster than that, not and do the job properly.”
“I know it,” she said with a weary sigh.
“So how else do we shut it down?”
“We don’t. We tell the Chief and he shuts it down,” Mimi answered, and waited for what she knew was coming. It didn’t take long.
“Are you crazy!” Zemekis exploded, and it wasn’t a question so she didn’t attempt an answer. She let him vent and didn’t mind. It was justifiable. No self-respecting reporter would give away a block-busting, ass-kicking story about dirty cops to the chief of police! What the hell was she thinking?! Had she lost her mind?! Was her relationship with Gianna clouding her reportorial good judgment?! She let him go on until he ran out of steam, then she read him into her long-term relationship with the Chief, which had begun years ago when she was a brand-new rookie reporter and he was a homicide detective who took pity on her and took her under his wing. She didn’t consider themselves friends, exactly, Mimi told him, but they respected and trusted each other without question.
“You trust him not to burn us if you tell him what’s going on here?”
“Did you read the stories I did on McConnell and Burgess?” And when Zemekis nodded, she told him that the Chief knew all the details and that he had asked her to hold publication until he could drop the hammer on the bad cops. “I told him I couldn’t make that decision and I passed it on to Tyler, who would agree only if he had the Chief’s promise that he wouldn’t screw us.” Mimi smiled at the memory of her mild-mannered editor going head to head and toe to toe with the bombastic Chief.
“And the Chief agreed and kept his promise?” Zemekis asked, still skeptical.
“Joe, he hates dirty cops worse than he hates perps and lowlifes because, as he says, he expects them to be who they are. He does not expect cops—his cops—to behave like perps and lowlifes.”
Zemekis was quiet, thinking. “Why don’t we take this to your Lieutenant Maglione, Patterson? I think I trust her. I know I like her.”
She was shaking her head before he finished his question. “Because there’s nothing she can do about it, Joe, except kick it up to the Chief.” And he knew she was right.
“OK,” he finally said. “But I want to go with you when you tell him.”
She bristled. “Don’t trust me, Zemekis?”
“Don’t trust him, Patterson. Not yet.”
“What do you want now, Maglione?” the Chief growled at her. “If you’re back here to harass me about the same stuff you’ve been harassing me about, namely needing more bodies, I don’t want to hear it.”
Stung as well as irritated, Gianna retorted, “I’m very sorry you consider me looking for ways to do my job harassment.”
“Thin skin doesn’t look good on you,” he said with a heavy sigh. He was stopped by a knock on the door, which opened immediately. His aide stepped in, closing the door behind himself.
“This had better be worth interrupting me for, Randolph.”
“I think it probably is, sir. Ms. Patterson and Mr. Zemekis are here. They asked if you can give them a few minutes.”
The Chief looked as surprised as Gianna did. “The look on your face says you don’t know what this is all about, Maglione?” He made it a question.
“I have no idea.”
“Then you’d better let ’em in, Randolph,” the Chief said, and the door swung wide open to admit Mimi, followed by Joe Zemekis. They stopped short when they saw Gianna.
“Come on in. The more the merrier,” the Chief said, sounding anything but merry. He returned to his desk and sat down. “This can’t be anything I really want to hear.” He looked from Mimi to Joe. “Especially if it takes two of you to tell it.” Then he gave Joe a hard look. “Unless of course you don’t trust me enough to let Patterson come by herself,” and he laughed at the look on Joe’s face. He waved his hand at Mimi. “Start talking, Patterson.”
So she did, and when she finished talking the room was quiet for several long seconds. Then the Chief erupted, treating them to one of his profane tirades, the kind in which he cussed loud and long for several minutes, never repeating himself. It was a rare performance, and those who had witnessed it before—in this case everyone but Zemekis—were always amazed. Zemekis was flabbergasted. “How much time do I have before this ends up in that piece of shit newspaper you work for?”
“Two weeks, three at the most,” Mimi said, “and it’s not a piece of shit.”
“Is Carson on board with this?” the Chief asked.
“He will be,” Mimi said, “when we tell him whatever it is you’re going to tell us since we’ve put our reputations on the line and told you everything.”
The Chief paced in circles for a moment, jiggling the change in his pockets. “Are you certain that one of my cops raped a woman in her own home?”
“Yes, sir,” Mimi and Joe said in unison.
“That son of a bitch!” the Chief spat out. “What’s his name? And what are the names of the others? And where do they work? East Side Command?”
They told him, and he looked from Randolph to Gianna. “Either of you know these characters?” And when they both shook their heads, he barked an order to his aide that would have the personnel folders of the three cops on his desk before the end of the day. “You two get outta my office,” he said to Mimi and Joe, waving them away.
Mimi and Gianna shared a tiny smile before the two reporters exited. Then Gianna’s boss gave her a look that she’d come to know all too well. It meant that she wouldn’t like what he was about to say. And she didn’t. He opened the top drawer of his desk and withdrew a stack of what Gianna knew were personnel folders. He gave them to her. “All of these are at your disposal to use as you see fit, whenever you see fit. I wanted to wait until all the pieces were in place before talking to you about this, Maglione, but there’s no time. So here it is: I’m creating a new unit and you’re running it. I don’t know yet what it’s going to be called but it’s an all-purpose thing. Hate Crimes will be part of it. Taking down this sex-trafficking thing will be part of it. Whatever the hell it is that Patterson and Zemekis just dumped all over us will be part of it. You’ll have a lot of different kinds of cops answering to you. Some of them you’ll choose yourself, some of them—like Jim Dudley—I’ll assign to you. You’ll operate out of that space down the hall.”
Gianna’s head was spinning. She couldn’t think of anything to say but that didn’t matter because the Chief wasn’t done talking yet. “Put Alice Long and Linda Lopez undercover at that Sunset View place. Make them relatives of two of the women—the one who called Patterson and the one was raped. I don’t want that woman and her child alone for another night.”
“Chief.” Gianna finally found her voice.
“I know you feel ambushed, Maglione, and I’m sorry, I really am. I wanted to discuss this with you in a more organized way, but so much is happening so fast. You haven’t even had time to grieve for young Cassie Ali and I know how much she meant to you.”
“They’re all important to me, Chief.”
“And they deserve better than to hear about such a major change through the grapevine. You’re right. Let’s go tell ’em.” And she followed him out of his office, juggling the armload of personnel folders of the people who soon would be calling her Boss.
“I’m not happy about this, Patterson,” Zemekis said in the taxi heading to the records department where they’d spend the next several hours researching and copying the documents on all the people and places they’d need to factually support their stories.
“I know, Joe; I’m not thrilled abou
t it, either. But how much of this story is about dirty cops, and how much is about how easy it is for some of our most vulnerable citizens to become prey?”
“Yeah. Especially when the predators are dirty cops,” Joe snarled.
“He’s not gonna screw us, Joe. Really, he’s not.”
Zemekis rode in silence and Mimi didn’t interrupt it. He had a right to be skeptical. After all, he didn’t know her very well and didn’t know the Chief at all. She’d be skeptical, too, if placed in the same situation. Besides, the silence allowed her to focus on Gianna. She hadn’t looked at all happy seated in the Chief’s office like a recalcitrant kid in the principal’s office. But there had been that little smile, which she couldn’t have managed if she’d been really miserable. Still, Mimi needed to find out, needed to make sure that Gianna was OK, and she didn’t want to risk making Zemekis more uneasy than he already was by going off to see Gianna without him.
They were exiting the taxi before Zemekis spoke again. “I know the lieutenant will speak more freely to you without me being present,” he said. “Will you ask her what the Chief said when we left? And by the way, did he have to order us out of his office like that? He threw us out like last week’s stinking garbage! And it’s not a piece of shit!”
Mimi couldn’t help but laugh. “I know you’ve worked in a few major cities in this country and around the world. In how many of them could you have showed up at the office of the Chief of Police and gotten in the door?”
“Well . . . none,” he responded grudgingly. “So, you’ll call the lieutenant?”
Mimi nodded as she said a silent prayer of thanks. “As soon as we finish in records.” It was a task not nearly as grueling and time-consuming as they had imagined. Sunset View apartments had been owned by the same Maryland family for twenty years, during which time they’d paid the taxes in full and usually on time, and had maintained the property in sufficiently good repair so as not to have netted warnings and fines from the housing inspectors too often.
“They should all be so easy!” Joe said.
“No shit, Sherlock!” Mimi responded, remembering too late that it was a favorite expression of Cassie Ali’s, then deciding that Cassie wouldn’t mind.
The check of the Sunset View residents was equally uneventful. The people were exactly who they appeared to be: hardworking, law-abiding, regular-voting, tax-paying citizens. There were records for the men who had abandoned their families and the ones who were incarcerated, as well as for the ones with records of military service, past and present. “Not a wrong note anywhere,” Joe said, sounding both relieved and satisfied.
“Committing a crime is a wrong note, Zemekis.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. What I meant was that they were adjudicated, and even the ones who are out and didn’t return to their families, they check in with their parole officers.”
“Hmmmm,” Mimi murmured. She hadn’t really been listening to him and she had only challenged him to let him know that he couldn’t get away with making such an inane remark.
“What?” Joe said as relief and satisfaction evaporated.
“What’s the woman’s name who Virgie said first called in the cops? She was having trouble with her sons and wanted a male influence.”
Joe paged through his notebook. “Tompkins, Alfreda.”
“Here she is,” Mimi said paging through the files they’d just copied. “Married to Tompkins, William Robert. He did a dime at the federal pen down in Virginia for a bank robbery in which he held a teller hostage. They got no money, and he and his partner were apprehended in the parking lot before they could even get in the car, empty money bag in hand.”
“So, smart isn’t the dude’s strong suit,” Joe said. “Is he out?”
Mimi nodded. “Out and in the wind. Hasn’t been seen or heard from since his release. Is that what you’d call a wrong note?”
Ignoring the comment, Joe said, “Virgie said the sons were exhibiting daddy-like behavior, which is why Mrs. Tompkins called in the cops. She needed help handling the boys. Any woman would, I suppose,” Joe said, “if there were no other male figures around.”
“Did you see any boys leave the Tompkins apartment this morning,” Mimi asked, “either before or after Alfreda left?”
“Well, hell and damn,” Joe said. “No I did not. And either she left them at home when she went to work or they don’t still live there.”
“Those boys aren’t old enough to be out on their own,” Mimi said. “They’re fourteen, fifteen at most.”
“So where are they?”
“That goes on the list of follow-up questions for Virgie.”
“Maybe that could also go on the list of questions for the lieutenant? Just in case they’re in the system?” Joe asked with a sly grin.
“Maybe we should call Virgie right now and ask her,” Mimi snapped, no grin in place, sly or otherwise. A feeling burning a hole in her gut told her there was nothing to grin about.
The members of the Hate Crimes Unit looked from their Chief to their Boss, reading their facial expressions. The Boss wore the totally blank look that meant she was controlling her feelings and emotions, letting nothing show. The Chief was pacing, jiggling the change in his pockets, and talking a mile a minute. The team heard everything he said. The look on the Boss’s face told them they should listen, too, to what he didn’t say. “Your Boss isn’t happy with me right now. In fact, she’s royally pissed off at me, and she has good reason. But here’s the bottom line: She’s gonna do her job and she’s gonna give it 110 per cent, just like she always does. Some of you aren’t gonna like some of what’s coming down the pike but, like your Boss, you’re gonna do your job and you’re gonna give it 110 per cent, just like you always do.” And he turned and walked out.
“What aren’t we gonna like?” asked Sgt. Eric Ashby, the lieutenant’s second in command and the only one who could ask the question and get an answer.
Gianna looked at them and her facial expression relaxed into an almost smile. “I’m really sorry for this, you guys—for such a major change and for the way it was sprung on you.”
“When did you find out?” Eric asked, again a question they all wanted the answer to.
“About an hour ago,” Gianna said, and gave them the time and space to express their emotions before quieting them. “The part you’re not going to like is that some of you will be detailed to the other operations the new unit will be running—”
It took Eric several minutes to quiet the outburst and restore calm and quiet, and Gianna made it clear that she needed and expected their attention and cooperation. Then she told them what was in store. “You’re all aware of the sex-trafficking operation in the warehouse on Broad Street. Well, it’s on a short leash. A takedown is being planned. Jim Dudley’s leading the takedown crew and he’s asked to have McCreedy on his team.” She gave Tim a nod and watched the emotions travel across his far too handsome face: surprise, concern, and finally pride.
Then she filled them in on the Sunset View situation. “Montgomery Patterson brought this one in the door, and she dropped it in the Chief’s lap because of the police presence—”
Bobby Gilliam cut in, all traces of Buddhist peacefulness gone. “Are we supposed to believe that a cop—one of ours—raped a woman in her own home?!”
“That’s what it looks like, Bobby, and that’s why we’re putting Linda and Alice in there, Linda as the cousin of the woman who was raped, Alice as a close friend of the woman who called Ms. Patterson.”
“So, are we in there to protect the women, or to rat out the cops?” Alice asked, sounding almost as mean and nasty as Bobby had.
“Job one is to protect the women, but if see you any evidence of illegal behavior by any police officer, you are to contact me immediately. Is that clear?” Gianna looked from Alice to Linda, holding their eyes until she got a “Yes, Boss” from each of them. Then she turned back to Bobby. “I want you backing up Alice and Linda. I don’t know exactly how yet, but I do kno
w that whatever is happening at Sunset View has the hair on the back of my neck standing up, and I won’t have my people in there looking left and the bear runs in from the right.”
“You want me to tackle the bear when he runs in and put him in a choke hold, Boss?” Bobby asked innocently, and the room broke up.
Gianna was still chuckling when she turned to Kenny Chang, their computer whiz. “Everything you can find on that place and the people who live there, Kenny, please.”
“Yes, Boss,” he said, fingers already dancing across his ever-present and ever-ready keyboard.
She picked up the stack of personnel folders and gave them to Eric. “These belong to us. Sort through and assess. Short term, we need to replace Tim and Alice at Metro GALCO. Long term, we need to evaluate strong suits. And write down the names, Eric, please. Everybody take a look, see if you know any of ’em. And Kenny. There’s a computer specialist, tech specialist, IT guy, whatever, in our new unit. Name of Jennings. I want to know if he’s as good as you. I already know the equipment is better than ours, but I want you to do your Kenny Chang whatever it is you do!”
“The Kenny Chang thang!” Bobby said, and everybody joined in, making it a chant. Kenny beamed and took a seated bow, his fingers never leaving the keyboard, his eyes never leaving the screen.
“And you all might as well go check out our new digs. I’m going to go call Ms. Patterson and get a plan for getting Alice and Linda in place,” she said, and headed for the door.
“Where exactly is the new unit, Boss?” Eric asked, and Gianna stopped walking mid-stride. She wasn’t certain enough of its location to direct them to it. She’d have to lead them there. If she could remember where it was, which, thankfully, she did. She left them there and went to call Mimi, who agreed almost too quickly to meet her.
“I’m on my way,” Mimi said. They met in the hallway outside Gianna’s office, and the sight of each other eased almost all the stress they’d both been carrying. The kiss they shared once inside the office behind the locked door erased the remainder. They stood silently holding each other for a long moment, both reluctant to abandon the peace and contentment they found in each other, both knowing this stolen moment was as good as it was likely to get until very much later that night—and that was if they were lucky. Gianna unlocked the door and went to sit behind her desk, while Mimi sprawled on the couch where Gianna had spent more than a few nights while in the middle of a big case.
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