by Colin Conway
“They need more complete information.”
“Not to charge. The threshold for the prosecutor to formally charge is the same as it is for us to arrest—probable cause.”
“No, it’s not,” Flowers snapped. “And you know it. The prosecutor has to believe that he can prove the case beyond a reasonable doubt.”
“That’s their own self-imposed bullshit,” Talbott countered. “The law says probable cause, and they can charge on PC.”
Flowers shook his head. He’d had long conversations about this with the prosecutor’s office, and knew that while Talbott was technically right, he was wrong for all practical purposes. “Their code of ethics is clear on this point. The lawyer must reasonably believe—”
“Code of ethics? From a lawyer? Are you kidding me, El Tee?”
Flowers waved away the entire subject. “Enough. The process is the process. Why didn’t you get the charging request over to the prosecutor?”
Talbott exchanged a look with Pomeroy, then back to Flowers. He motioned to the chairs in front of the lieutenant’s desk. “Mind if we sit down?”
Flowers shrugged. Anything to get a goddamn answer.
Both men sat. Talbott leaned forward in his chair, interlacing his fingers. “Listen, Lieutenant. You’re right. We should’ve got the paperwork in, and we didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Strategy.”
Flowers hesitated, a little confused. He walked around his desk and settled into his own chair, his mind whirring. “What do you mean?”
“We think Garrett is dirty, but he’s not using. He’s trafficking. I’ll bet my retirement that the tox screen on his blood from the night of the shooting comes back clean.”
Flowers would normally have a hard time believing any of that, but he saw the drugs under the sink with his own eyes. “Charge him then. Your case is solid, right?”
“We think so. They’ll appeal on Fourth Amendment issues, but we were in the house legally. I had permission to use the bathroom. Opening the cabinet to get a towel was a reasonable act, and so the discovery will hold up.”
Flowers shook his head, still confused. “Then why not…”
“Here’s the thing,” Talbott said. “There are still going to be people who believe he didn’t do it. I mean, it’s his house, his bathroom, but certain people out there still won’t believe it. They’ll say I planted it there for who knows what whacked out reasons they come up with, or that some nefarious ‘they’ somehow managed to break into his house and put it there for me to find. It’ll be straight out of a Ward Clint conspiracy theory. Hell, with the Ninth Circuit’s track record, they might be able to win on appeal with that bullshit argument.”
Flowers stared at him. This was the most elaborate excuse he’d ever heard for why a detective messed up his paperwork.
“So,” Talbott said, “Poms and I decided we needed more. We weren’t going to get that if Garrett was sitting in jail awaiting trial.”
It took a second for Talbott’s words to sink in. “Wait. You did this on purpose?”
Talbott nodded. “We needed Garrett out of jail. To see what he’d do.”
“You’re kidding me!”
“No.”
“This…this is just…” Flowers searched for words to express what he was feeling.
“Think about it, El Tee. Garrett’s under a lot of pressure. He’ll make a mistake, and hopefully we’ll be there when he does.”
Flowers blinked, thinking it through. “You think all of this is connected somehow? The shooting, all of it?”
Talbott shrugged. “I can’t say for sure. Maybe it’s all coincidence. It makes a certain kind of sense, doesn’t it?”
“It could,” Flowers admitted, unsure.
“Either way, if he’s out and about, and he’s dirty, something’s gotta give. We get a better picture, and we get evidence to shore up the case.”
Flowers considered it. Then he asked, “Where were you when I called?”
“Sitting off Garrett’s place, hoping to get an eye on him.”
Flowers felt a surge of guilt. The last thing a good leader did was get in the way of the men and women who were doing the job. The guilt was immediately replaced with frustration and anger once again. “Why didn’t you bring this to me?” he demanded. “You can’t just make a plan like this and not involve management.”
Talbott and Pomeroy exchanged another glance before Talbott answered. “A couple of reasons.”
“I’d like to hear them.”
“You read the paper?”
“Of course.”
“Then you’ve seen the stories in there about this case and the shooting.”
“Yes. So, what?”
“So, with the information they’ve got, it’s obvious there’s some kind of a leak around here.”
Flowers said nothing. He hoped the warmth he felt on his face wasn’t showing.
“I don’t know if they’re getting their info from city hall or the department,” Talbott continued, “but it doesn’t matter. The details originate with us, regardless of what point downstream they get shared.”
“You don’t trust me,” Flowers said as convincingly as he could.
“It’s not you,” Talbott said, “but somewhere up the line, there’s a security issue. We couldn’t afford for this to get out. There’s one more thing, too.”
“What’s that?”
“We’re protecting you, El Tee.”
Flowers gave him a surprised look. “Me? How?”
“Well, you and the admin. By tanking the paperwork, it’s all on Poms and me. We screwed up. Garrett’s out because of us. You can tell it that way all the way up the line, including city hall.”
Flowers realized Talbott was right. It would work. He imagined there’d be a little bit of pain in it, but nothing insurmountable.
“While we’re waiting for Garrett to slip up and show us who he really is, you and all the brass are insulated. It’s on us, not you. You have plausible deniability. Later on, if things go right, we can say you knew all along, but if things don’t…” He trailed off with a shrug. “A couple of dumb ass detectives dropped the ball. You write us a formal reprimand or something, and it’s done.”
Flowers looked to Pomeroy. “You support what he’s saying?”
Pomeroy glanced at Talbott, then looked back to the lieutenant. “Yes, sir. Definitely. Just as he said.”
Flowers studied them both. He felt a surge of pride that these two were willing to have their own reputations damaged for the good of the department and their superiors, all in the interests of solving a case. This was the kind of selflessness he wished he saw more often.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “carry on.”
Chapter 34
Garrett waited in the back of the barbershop for Clint. The detective told him it’d be an hour before he could make it to the location, and Garrett was content to sit and wait in the comfortable confines of what had once been a second home to him. He thumbed through a couple of outdated magazines. The newest issues were out front for paying customers.
A steady stream of old school music had played through the shop for the hour. Several songs from fifties blues to seventies funk. Oakley had several mix tapes that customers still brought him. He refused to jump to the digital era and his customers were more than happy to oblige.
Oakley pushed aside the curtain to the back area and poked his head in. “Somebody’s here to see you, son.”
Garrett was surprised. Clint had made good time.
But it wasn’t Clint who brushed past Oakley into the back room. Instead, the large frame of Bo Sherman took up the space. “Hey, brother.”
“Hey, man.” Garrett rose to greet him. A slight uneasiness filled his gut, but he tried not to show it. The two clasped hands easily and engaged in a quick, manly half-embrace with their free arms. “How’d you know I was here?”
Sherman chuckled. “D
oesn’t take a rocket scientist, my man. You weren’t at your house. You aren’t going to bring this weight on your moms. Where else are you gonna go but the world-famous Oak’s?”
Garrett spread his hands. “Here I am.” He looked closer at Sherman, waiting for the bigger man to make the next move. “How about you?” he asked. “You on the job?”
“Nah, I mean, you and I both know we’re always on the job, that’s just how it is, but right now is just about Bo needing to talk to Ty.”
“All right.”
Sherman gave him a meaningful look. “I’m serious, man. You see me in a uniform? No. And I’m all by myself. I’m not even packing.”
Garrett looked him up and down, not seeing a gun anywhere. “Uh-uh,” he finally said. “No way you’re not strapped. What is it, an ankle holster?”
Sherman laughed, holding up his hands. “All right, all right. You got me. But that don’t mean anything, and you know it.”
“I believe you, Bo. What do you want?”
Sherman settled in to the chair across from Garrett’s, so Garrett sat, too. “I’m just checking up on you,” he said. “Things are getting crazy, you know?”
“Tell me about it.”
“Anything I can do?”
“I don’t know. What can you tell me?”
“Not much. The word is, number one, don’t talk about this. Number two, you might be dirty.”
“That’s bullshit!”
“I hear you, brother, but it isn’t playing well.”
They were both quiet for a time. Then Sherman said, “You know, I never did get a chance to thank you.”
“Thank me? For what?”
“Before you came on, I was pretty much the only black man the department had. Oh, they had Clint, but he ain’t exactly the type you trot out at community meetings, is he? And there was Tammy Preston, but she was covering the female thing. That left me. Anytime they needed to show diversity, they’d call up Bo. Photo ops, block watch, school talks, the whole damn thing. You know what I mean?”
Garrett nodded. “I guess it comes with the territory.”
“I guess, but once you hit the academy, they eased off me. Besides, you were a homegrown kid, which was perfect for them. Since I lateraled from Chicago I’m sure they were always a little bit nervous that it’d turn out I was dirty back there, or gangster, right?” He chuckled. “Folk Nation or some shit.”
Garrett didn’t laugh.
“Anyway,” Sherman continued, “you were what you were and so they started throwing a lot of that extra work your way. I was glad to be done with it, even though I will admit I missed the overtime pay. I got to focus on doing patrol work, and it gave me more family time, too. I gotta say thanks for that, man. Truly.”
“I’m glad it worked out that way,” Garrett said.
Sherman nodded slowly. “How things work out is a funny thing sometimes.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not laughing right now.”
“I hear you. Being a symbol for something is a heavy weight.” He paused, then said, “You know, in a way, they were right.”
“Who?”
“The brass. All the white shirts. About Chicago.”
Garrett stared at Sherman. “Man, if you’re about to confess something, I really don’t want to hear it.”
Sherman smiled slightly. “Nah, man, I’m not dirty and I sure as hell ain’t gangster. But Chicago is a whole different world than Spokane. Different people, different city. Different crooks and different cops.”
“Yeah?”
“For sure. Back there, it’s not a question of whether or not there are some dirty cops. It’s just a matter of figuring out which few they are. Here in Spokane, though?” Sherman shook his head. “Most everyone is a damn boy scout, and I like it that way.”
“That’s not how people are seeing me right now.”
“True, but that’s the media and civilians. What do they know? I mean, really? You and I do this job, and we know what’s what. You ever seen another cop be dirty since you’ve been here? I’m not talking bending a rule here or cutting a corner. I mean, flat out dirty.”
Garrett considered, then shrugged. “No, I guess not.”
“Me neither. Chicago was different that way.” He thought about it, then said, “The way business is done there is a lot different, too.”
“Different how?”
“Darker,” Sherman said. “Deeper. Everything is politics.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because what I’ve been seeing over these past two days is an awful lot like what I saw back home.” He gave Garrett a grave look. “You mentioned the way this is playing in the media. There’s that, and the moves that city hall and the brass are making, too. It all smells just the same.”
Garrett lowered his head and shook it mournfully. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“That won’t matter,” Sherman said. “Did you see that last press conference?”
“No.”
“The mayor is losing it. The eyes of the nation are on little old Spokaloo, and his seat is getting hot. Same for the chief. Public opinion is turning against you.”
“He shot at me,” Garrett whispered, “and those men attacked me.”
“And the dope ain’t yours,” Sherman finished.
“It isn’t.”
“I believe you, man, but this ain’t about truth. This is just like Chicago. It’s about what plays. Who survives and who doesn’t. And trust me on this one—when it comes down to it, those sons-of-bitches wearing suits will offer you up as a sacrifice to whatever gods rule the day.”
Garrett took a deep, wavering breath and let it out.
Sherman reached out and clapped a strong hand on his shoulder and gave him a squeeze. “Sorry to have to speak such hard truths, brother. I didn’t want you caught by surprise.”
Garrett nodded his head. “Thanks, man.”
“You got it.”
“No one else…” he trailed off, surprised at how the words caught in his throat. “No one…”
“You don’t have to say anymore.” Sherman patted his shoulder and gave it another squeeze.
“You should go,” Garrett said thickly. “There’s no reason you should get caught up in this mess.”
Sherman laughed ironically. “Shit, man. I’ve already been mistaken for you three times. I’m caught in this mess same as the whole goddamn country.”
Garrett laughed with him. It wasn’t quite a real laugh, but it still felt good. “Thanks,” he repeated.
“You’ll get through this.”
“I will.”
“Stay strong and stay safe.”
“I’ll do my best,” Garrett assured him.
Chapter 35
Detective Wardell Clint parked around the corner from the barber shop and took the alley. He gave three sharp raps on the back door and waited. A few moments later, the elderly face of Delmar Oakley appeared through a crack in the door.
“You here to help?”
“That’s my job description.”
“Don’t lip me, son. It’s an honest question.”
Clint looked at him evenly. “He called me. I’m here alone. What you want me to do, swear on a stack of bibles?”
Oakley scowled slightly but opened the door for him. Clint stepped through. Garrett sat nearby, looking like a trapped animal. Oakley closed the door and crossed his arms, standing protectively.
“You going to arrest me?” Garrett asked.
“Should I?”
“Why not? It already happened once.”
“Not by me,” Clint said, “but at some point, I might not have a choice.”
Garrett looked suspicious. “How’s that?”
“Part of the reason it took me so long to get here was because I was at the station. It looks like the department is putting you on administrative suspension until this thing with the drugs and the fight is completely invest
igated.”
“Shit,” Garrett breathed.
“Dale Thomas didn’t call you?”
“I don’t have my phone.”
Clint’s eyes shifted to the cell phone on the table in front of Garrett.
Garrett followed his gaze. “It’s a pre-paid. I picked it up after they released me. I left my personal phone at the house when they…when they arrested me.”
“Well, I’m sure Mister Union President is blowing up that other phone with messages.”
“I guess I should’ve seen this coming.”
“Probably.”
“It’s just…I thought they’d stand behind me. I’ve done everything right. And none of this is my fault. As soon as I get to be inconvenient, they abandon me.”
“That’s their way,” Clint said.
“It’s not right.”
“Don’t be naive.”
Garrett looked at him, his eyes shining with anger. “I thought you were here to help me.”
“I suppose I am. Look, all of this is moving too fast. Everyone’s scrambling to cover their own ass, and no one is asking why. Why did any of this happen?”
“Timing. Bad luck.”
“It may have started that way, but there’s something more at work now. They are hanging you out to dry.” He took out a stick of gum and popped it in his mouth. “The county is looking for you, too. They want to interview you about the shooting as soon as your seventy-two expires. Their lead detective, Harris, told me.”
“Man, I can’t talk to them right now. Not with all this other stuff going on. My head’s all twisted around.”
“Then don’t.”
“I have to. If I don’t cooperate, then I look guilty. I’m screwed either way.”
Clint said nothing.
“I don’t know what to do,” Garrett said. “I’m afraid to go home. I don’t know who to trust.”
“Talk to Dale Thomas. Or that high priced mouthpiece you had at first appearance.”
“Wei?” Garrett considered. “Yeah, she might know the best thing to do.”
“Or talk to both, but don’t trust them completely. Don’t trust anyone completely.”