by Colin Conway
“Pomeroy was with Flowers and me the whole time.”
“Talbott, then? You’re saying he planted the drugs under your sink?”
Garrett looked away again. “I’m not saying that. I’m just saying someone did.”
“But not Talbott?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s say it wasn’t him. Who else could have done it?”
“I have no idea.”
“Speculate.”
Garrett sighed, then thought about it. “I was out running earlier. Someone could have planted the drugs while I was out of the house.”
“Who could have?”
“Anyone who wanted to. Some assholes posted my address on Facebook, which is how the guys in the truck probably found me.”
“Did you lock the door before you left?”
Garrett nodded.
“See any sign of forced entry when you got back?”
“No, but I didn’t get a chance to really look around before the detectives came to my house.”
“To investigate the assault.”
“Yeah.”
“The assault they booked you for, in addition to the drug charge.”
“It’s as bullshit as the drugs. Those two guys attacked me. It was self-defense.”
“All right,” Clint said evenly. “All right.”
“It’s true.”
“I said all right.”
“You didn’t say it like you believed me.”
“Don’t be paranoid, son,” Clint told him.
Garrett stared at him in disbelief.
Clint returned his stare. Then he said, “We should take a look at your house as soon as you’re out on bail. See if there’s forced entry.”
“You think I’ll get out?”
Clint nodded. “You should. You’re a first-time offender.”
“I didn’t do it!”
“I didn’t say you did. I’m saying that’s how the judge will see you. Plus, you’ve got a long work history and ties to the community. Your in-laws in town, too?”
“No. Kennewick.”
Clint waved that away. “That’s still in-state. All in all, you’re not a flight risk.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I’m just laying it out for you.”
“What about the shooting?”
“That investigation continues, independent of this.” Clint hesitated, then he asked, “Why didn’t you turn on your dash camera when you stopped Trotter?”
Garrett gave him a blank look. “I did.”
“Not until after the shooting, once Zielinski was there.”
“Are you sure?”
“I saw the videos. Zielinski’s and yours.”
Garrett shook his head and sighed. “I must have forgot. It all…it all happened so fast. The whole thing seems like it happened a year ago.”
Clint scratched his cheek, watching Garrett. Compassion was not his bailiwick, but he felt for Garrett. Three days ago, the man’s life had been normal. Hell, it had been good. Now everything was upside down for him, and most of it not of his own doing. “Don’t worry,” he told Garrett. “We’ll get it figured out.”
Garrett considered. Then he asked, “Why are you helping me?”
“I just want the truth,” Clint said.
“Bullshit. This is one brother helping out another.”
Clint shrugged. “Maybe a little. The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”
Chapter 23
Captain Tom Farrell hung up the phone, waited a moment, then picked up the handset again. He punched in the number for the pager system, then the specific pager, followed by 6666 in the message field. He knew his number would show on the pager with his name and rank in next to it. Four sixes signified Signal 6, which told the recipient to meet him at his office.
Flowers knocked on the partially open door a few seconds later, poking his head in. “You page him?”
“Yes.”
Flowers came into the office and took a seat across from Farrell. “You sure you don’t want me to handle this? He’s my guy.”
“You work for me. All of your guys are my guys, too.”
“You know what I meant, Cap.”
Farrell shook his head. “No, this needs to come from me. It’s an inter-agency issue already.”
“Fair enough. Did you tell the chief about Garrett yet?”
“Of course.”
“And?”
“He was as shocked as I was.”
“I’m sure. What’s the plan?”
“The plan right now is to let things run their course. This doesn’t change the shooting. It’s a separate matter.”
“Yeah, somehow I don’t think the media is going to spin it that way.”
“I can’t help that.”
“It’s gonna get ugly. You know that, right?”
“It’s already ugly,” Farrell said.
“Yeah, but—”
Detective Wardell Clint appeared in the doorway. Without waiting to see if he was interrupting or not, he said, “You paged me, Captain?”
“Yes. That was fast.”
“I was at my desk.”
“Okay. Come on in.”
Clint stepped inside the threshold of the doorway, but no further.
Farrell motioned toward the chair next to Flowers. “Have a seat.”
“I’ll stand.”
Frustration nipped at the edge of his patience, but Farrell kept it out of his voice. “We might be a few minutes. I’d appreciate it if you sat.”
Clint seemed to consider, then relented. He took the seat next to Flowers, pointedly shifting it slightly away from the lieutenant. His posture was ramrod straight, and he sat near the edge of the seat. “What can I do for you, Captain?”
“I know you’re busy, so I’ll get straight to it. Did you contact Officer Garrett over at jail?”
“I spoke with him, yes.”
“Did Detective Harris ask you to do that?”
“Not that I recall.”
“So, you did it on your own. Why?”
“Because I needed to ask him a couple of questions.”
Farrell sighed. “About what?”
“Stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Investigation related stuff.”
“Detective, you are flirting dangerously close to insubordination here.”
Clint didn’t reply.
Farrell considered waiting him out, then decided to forge ahead. “I just took a call from Detective Harris, complaining about you stepping all over her investigation. You do know you’re supposed to be the shadow, right? That was made clear to you?”
“My role is clear, sir.”
“Good. Then—”
“I am the token black man on this investigation.”
Farrell just stared at him. “You didn’t just say that.”
“Of course, I did. It’s the truth.” Clint turned toward Flowers. “The lieutenant and I even discussed it on scene. Didn’t we, Lieutenant?”
“You’re out of line, Clint.” Flowers tone was resentful but weak.
“I’m just speaking truth.”
“You’re peddling paranoid conspiracy bullshit.”
Clint cocked his head at Flowers. “Really? We didn’t have a conversation about me not being up on the wheel, but catching this case anyway because I was…what did you call it? Oh yeah, a good fit.”
“You didn’t catch this case,” Farrell interjected. “It’s the county’s case. You were assigned to shadow. That means observe, maybe advise if needed. Not conduct independent investigative operations outside of the lead detective’s direction. That’s what you did when you contacted Garrett at jail. You’ve probably tainted the investigation.”
“Which one?”
“All of them,” Farrell snapped. “Let me be clear. I’m ordering you to stand down. Observe the county’s investigation, of
fer advice when they request it, but otherwise do not overstep your bounds again.”
“Or what?”
The room grew immediately quiet.
“What did you say?” Farrell whispered.
“I said, or what?” Clint replied in a conversational tone. “I want to know.”
Farrell found his voice. “Or you’ll be removed from the case, that’s what.”
“I’m only on the case in the first place because I’m black. Go ahead and pull me off. Great story, huh?” He swept his hand along an imaginary headline. “Black Detective Asks Questions, Ofay Pulls Him Off Case.”
“This is not about race,” Farrell snapped. “It’s about rules.”
“Captain, it is most certainly about race. Regardless, all I want is the truth. That’s my job. To find the truth. That means asking the right questions, not the ones that make people comfortable.”
Farrell gave Clint a long, hard look. Finally, he said, “It’s not your case. It’s Harris’s. Observe her investigation. Advise her if needed. Assist if asked, but do not overstep your bounds again, Detective Clint. That is an order. Am I clear, Detective?”
Clint clenched and unclenched his jaw. Then he gave a short nod. “Clear, sir.”
“Dismissed, then.”
Without hesitation, Clint stood and left the office.
“Goddamn Honey Badger,” Flowers said, half to himself. “Unbelievable.”
Farrell sighed. “Yeah, well we made him that way.”
“Huh?”
Farrell nodded. “The department created him.”
“Bullshit,” Flowers said. “He’s always been paranoid and full of conspiracy crap. How did we make him?”
“I’m sure he’s always been paranoid to a degree and yeah, he sees conspiracy in every coincidence. I get that. The anti-administration, contrarian, alienated employee part is on us.”
Flowers shook his head. “What are you talking about?”
“You remember that Circle K incident he was involved in?”
“Of course. He broke the guy’s arm.”
“The chief at the time ruled against him on the use of force.”
“That wasn’t Baumgartner.”
“No, Livermore. He was that way with everyone. Had a real empty holster approach to policing.”
“I remember. Hugs not drugs.”
“Right. Anyway, Clint took the punishment for that. Before it happened, he was a hard charger, and afterward, only slightly less so. I was working at the academy at the time, and a position came open for a defensive tactics instructor. Clint put in for it, and I accepted his application. He was solid tactically and had some martial arts background. But Livermore said no way. He shot it down because he didn’t want ‘someone like that’—” Farrell made air quotes, “—teaching our new recruits.”
Flowers gave Farrell a curious look. “He might’ve been on to something there, Cap. I mean, he did break that guy’s arm.”
“He was probably justified, but that’s not the point. The point is, he was still engaged. Still trying to be part of the department mainstream. As an entry-level DT instructor, he’d be teaching recruits basic stuff. Wrist locks. Standing and kneeling handcuffing. Nothing crazy. Getting the position would have pulled him back into the fold. Helped him come back from the broken arm thing. Instead, he got his paranoid views reinforced when he was told ‘you’re in,’ then ‘you’re out.’ After that, his anti-administration stance became far more pronounced, his self-righteous attitude more prominent, and he was done. Over the rise. We lost him, but we also created him. Believe it.”
Flowers shrugged. “If you say so. All I see is a paranoid detective who hates the admin and is a pain in the ass. You say we made him that way, but I think he was born that way.”
“The guy was born a detective. That’s how he was born.”
“That’s true, too,” Flowers allowed. “He a tenacious son of a bitch, which is great when he’s on task. When he’s not…”
Farrell didn’t reply. He’d done what he needed to do in response to Detective Harris’s phone call, but if he was being honest with himself, he was halfway happy that the Honey Badger was on the case.
The other half was full of dread.
Life for Captain Tom Farrell right now was waiting to find out which half won out.
“Hey, Cap?”
“Yes?”
“What the hell’s an ofay?”
Chapter 24
Cody Lofton watched the mayor on the phone, red blotches forming on his cheeks that soon grew in to a full flushing of his face. His tie hung loosely around his neck and his collar was unbuttoned. His suit jacket hung on the back of his chair. The mayor’s hair was jostled from running his hand through it several times while on the phone.
Lofton heard him say “Uh huh” and “what’s that mean?” before he heard the name Garrett.
Whoever he was talking with wasn’t giving him good news. He imagined it was Chief Baumgartner, but he wasn’t sure.
Lofton pulled out his cell phone and texted Lieutenant Dan Flowers. Did something happen with Ty Garrett today?
He held his phone on his lap, so he could see the response.
The mayor stood from behind his desk and turned away from Lofton to look outside.
Lofton grabbed his phone and hurriedly typed out a new text. M is melting down over something with Garrett.
“How did this happen?” the mayor demanded.
The lack of response from Flowers was more worrisome than the mayor’s ire. The lieutenant was usually timely. He knew how important his intel was to Lofton in keeping ahead of the mayor’s shifts in mood. Lofton was deeply indebted to him even though he tried to pay him back with intel that was beneficial to him in the department. Flowers was the one who had given Lofton the Trotter information that he fed to Kelly Davis. Flowers had bigger aspirations than being a lieutenant within the police department. It was a relationship of quid pro quo that had some element of friendship. However, Lofton knew he could never get overly friendly with Flowers, in case he needed to distance himself for some reason.
“When you pull your head out of your ass, Chief, I’d appreciate knowing how this happened!”
The mayor slammed the receiver of his phone down, missing the base. He slammed the receiver down again.
“Amanda!” he yelled, his face almost purple now.
“Sir,” Lofton said, “What—”
The mayor pointed at him, his hand shaking. The look on his face told him not to say another word.
“Amanda!” he yelled again, louder. Lofton was sure everyone on the seventh floor had heard him.
Amanda Donahue stepped into the mayor’s office with a notepad and pen. She wore a red mini-skirt suit. The blouse she wore dipped past her cleavage. Lofton knew exactly her game now after the incident at Churchill’s. He wouldn’t underestimate her again. “Yes, sir?”
“Close the door and get ready to take some notes. I want a witness for this.”
Lofton immediately realized the danger. He brought Amanda in to embarrass him. Sikes liked an audience. He’d done it the previous night at Churchill’s with him and the chief. Now, the mayor was turning the tables on him and was going to use Amanda. She’d risen up to a level of confidant, or who knows what else after last night. Lofton had been in this role many times before, but this was different. He’d never heard the mayor verbalize his intentions before.
The mayor shook his head, his anger building.
Lofton flicked his eyes to his phone, hoping for some intel from Dan Flowers. Nothing had arrived.
The mayor pointed his finger directly at him. “You told me to cozy up to Ty Garrett because he was Clara Garrett’s son.”
Lofton watched his boss, understanding the game now. Whatever Garrett had done was going to affect the city. The mayor was laying it at his feet.
“You remember that advice, hot shot?”
Lofton glanced
to Amanda, who didn’t seem to be enjoying this display. She had her head down and was writing on her notepad.
“Do you remember that?” The mayor’s voice raised, demanding an answer.
Lofton turned his attention to the mayor. If he was going to take a beating, he wanted to know why. “What happened, sir?”
“Answer my fucking question!” the mayor yelled.
Lofton felt a calm inside now. If he remained still while the mayor was volatile, he would win this battle. “Yes, I remember that. Clara Garrett is a legend in Spokane political history. Her husband was well-respected and had a promising career before he passed away suddenly. In his absence, she went on to one of the finest careers on the city council and is still regarded today as the standard for a council president. Aligning ourselves with her and her son was a good idea for many reasons.”
“Until he shot a man in the back,” the mayor said, his right hand mimicking a gun. “You told me to back a loser.”
“The shooting is still under investigation. I’m given to understand that there are legitimate explanations for the location of the suspect’s wounds. Experts who will testify about it.”
“Will they testify about the missing gun, too? What are you going to do about that, Cody? Create one out of perception and innuendo? You can’t always sway people to think what you want.”
“You’d be surprised,” Lofton said.
The mayor grabbed a pad of Post-It Notes and threw it at him. Lofton stood his ground without flinching and the pad flew harmlessly past him. Amanda ducked even though the pad was nowhere near her.
“You stupid son-of-a-bitch,” the mayor yelled. “Do you know what happened today?”
Lofton tucked his phone in the inside of his jacket pocket. He no longer cared what Lieutenant Flowers might tell him. He was now completely in control of this meeting.
“I have no idea.”
“Garrett beat up two men. He put both of them in the hospital.”
Lofton shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “That’s impressive, don’t you think?”
“Impressive? What the—”
The mayor grabbed a handful of papers and threw them at Lofton. They scattered before getting anywhere close to him.
“I don’t know if I could beat up one man, let alone two,” Lofton said. “Could you?” He glanced at Amanda, who was now watching him with a look of astonishment.