"Okay, Mom."
Nikki kissed him again. "Duty calls."
"Mind if I shower before I get back into yesterday's clothes?"
She laughed and then transformed her expression into a playful scowl. "You didn't come to my party prepared to spend the night?"
"Not even a toothbrush."
"Shame on you."
"Go warn your kids a strange man will be coming down the stairs soon. You can tell them I'm 'Cousin Tony from the Azores,' or something."
She pointed to the bathroom. "The shower's that way, 'Cousin Tony.'"
"Okay."
She kissed him again. "I had fun. Thank you. In fact, multiple thank yous."
"'Serve and protect,' ma'am." He smiled. "Or is it 'protect and serve.'"
Her playful grin reemerged. "Just go down the stairs and leave straight through the front door."
Jerrod showered and got dressed. He unlocked the bedroom door and walked to the top of the stairs. He could hear little joyful voices talking and a cartoon on the television.
He started down the stairs. One of the treads creaked and the heads of two small, brown haired girls on the sofa simultaneously turned to look toward the noise. He gave them a meek wave, but didn't say anything. Nikki flipped her hand and shooed him away.
"Mom. Who's that guy?" Marty's tiny voice asked as Jerrod stepped through the doorway.
"But he's real cute," Lilly's less-tiny voice said as he pulled the door closed.
CHAPTER 27
Four Years Later -- June 1990
"You understand this has never been done before," Operations Chief Deputy Eugene Luttrell said.
"What's that, sir?" Sergeant Jerrod Gold asked.
"A new sergeant, still on his six-month probation period, being assigned to Investigations. It's never been done here before," the SO veteran of thirty five-years said. "Typically, new sergeants work Patrol until they finish probation and then get assigned to duties at the County Jail for at least eighteen-months."
"I understand that, sir,"
"Lieutenant Blanchard really wants you in his Division and the sheriff has left it for me to decide. Honestly, I don't think this is a great idea. Sets a bad precedent."
"Yes, sir,"
The chief sat back in his leather swivel chair and stared at a spot on the wall above Jerrod's head.
"Do you know anything about Lieutenant Blanchard, Jerrod?"
"Not much, sir."
"I've known him since he was a skinny little punk cutting class in high school to surf out in that freezing ocean. He came back from his time in the Navy a whole different man."
"How's that, sir?"
"He rarely talks about it, but he was in a specialized... unit... in Vietnam. None of us will ever know what he saw and did there. He came back to Mesa after he got out of the service and joined the SO.
Jerrod nodded.
"Eric... Lieutenant Blanchard... moved up the ranks here pretty quick and, especially since he took over Investigations, has been quietly grooming his own special unit of trusted and loyal and effective investigators. No one can argue that he doesn't get results."
Jerrod thought back to his conversation with the lieutenant after the Cardinal Lane murder-suicide and his slip when he used the term "operator" instead of "investigator."
"Screw it... Eric always get what he wants," the chief said. "He must see something special in you."
"Thank you, sir."
The chief leaned onto his desk, "But you still owe me jail time."
CHAPTER 28
July 1990
The July Shift Change Transfer Memo was posted on the SO squad room bulletin board. Among the many other reassignments, all scheduled to begin in two weeks, one particular announcement stood out:
TRANSFERS:
Sgt. Jerrod Gold—Operations Bureau, Patrol Division to Operations Bureau, Investigations Division (Staff Sergeant)
Someone had carefully, and in black ink, scratched a single line through "Gold" in the announcement and added block letters under it which read: "Golden Boy."
Friday Night -- Roll Call
This will be my last shift with you guys," Jerrod announced after reading the latest BOLs off the clipboard. "I get tomorrow off because I start in Investigations on Monday."
"It's been fun, Sarge," one of the deputies said.
"It has been fun working with all of you. Thank you."
"Say it one more time," another deputy asked.
"Okay. One last time: "Be safe, cover each other, and find someone who really deserves to go to jail... and take 'em there."
The deputies stood and handshakes were exchanged. Scott Jackson lagged behind and was the last to shake Jerrod's hand.
"Thanks for everything, Sarge."
"You going to be alright, Scott?"
"I think so. No real problems since... you know."
"I know. Glad to hear it. Do me a favor and if you ever need to talk... about anything... call me.
"Deal. Thanks again."
CHAPTER 29
Monday Morning
It took Jerrod four tries to get the Double Windsor knot of his tie right as he dressed for work. Except for a few appearances as a witness in court, he hadn't needed to wear a suit and tie for work since he resigned as a detective from the VVPD in 1986.
He felt butterflies in his stomach as he drove his Toyota pickup from Valle Verde to Mesa for his first day in Investigations.
* * *
"Welcome," Detective Sergeant Brent Rozman said as Jerrod sat in one the chairs across the table forming the "T" with Lieutenant Eric Blanchard's desk. He held a white coffee mug with the Oakland A's 1989 World Series Champions logo on it.
"Glad to be here. Thanks." Jerrod looked at the mug. "Did you get that cup to remind me of the $100 I lost to you on the Giants-A's World Series bet?"
"It is," Brent said as he took a sip. "In fact, I bought it with that $100. This mug is so sweet, I don't even need to add sugar to my coffee anymore."
"Jerrod is filling our new budgeted position -- Staff Sergeant," the lieutenant announced.
"What kind of caseload is he going to handle?" Detective Sergeant Benjamin "Ben" Zaff asked.
"He won't have a caseload -- in the traditional sense. He'll be working with me and is going to handle all the stuff I don't like to... that is... have time to do. He can help you with any major cases that come along, but he's mostly going to be here at the office. I have many projects for him."
"Is he available to all the units?" Detective Sergeant Ted Lindsey, supervisor of the Coroner and Crime Scene Units, asked.
"Yes," the lieutenant said. "He's here to assist, and I emphasize assist, with cases as necessary. He'll carry extra weight when needed and take a load off the three of you where he can."
"I think I want to trade jobs with Jerrod," Brent said.
"It's not going to be as fun as you think," the lieutenant said. "This is a new position and he'll see how it develops as we go. I suspect he's going to be very busy man once he gets up to speed."
The sergeants nodded as they looked at Jerrod.
"Any questions?" the lieutenant asked.
"Can Jerrod lose the suit and tie?" Ben Zaff asked. "He's already making us look bad."
The lieutenant laughed. "He can wear whatever he wants." He looked at Jerrod. "You can see we all wear casual clothes here. Except for going into a courtroom to testify, you can wear slacks and an open-collar shirt. Use a jacket to cover your gun in public. Just no jeans, t-shirts, or tennis shoes."
"Golf course dress code," Ted Lindsey added. "Tassels are optional on your golf spikes."
"And socks," Brent Rozman said. "You have to wear socks. Zaff ruined that when he pulled a 'Sonny Crockett' a few years ago."
"Very funny," Ben Zaff said. "I just did that one time."
"Sounds good," Jerrod said. "I'll lose the suit tomorrow."
"Anything else?" the lieutenant asked.
There was no response.
"Then
, let's get to work."
"Jerrod, please stay behind for a second," the lieutenant said.
"Okay."
"Welcome aboard," Ben Zaff said as he stood up to leave.
Ted Lindsey didn't stand up immediately. He looked across the table and made eye contact with Jerrod before speaking. "I'm glad we had that conversation at the morgue a few years ago," he said, "or you wouldn't be here right now."
"Thanks, Ted," Jerrod said as his mind flashed back to the seven-month personal hell he had created for himself after the death of Armando Mendoza. "If we hadn't had that conversation back then, I probably wouldn't be anywhere right now. I'm pretty sure of that."
Ted Lindsey glanced first at the lieutenant and then back at Jerrod as he digested what Jerrod had just said. He then subtly nodded his head signaling he understood exactly what his words meant.
"I'm glad your here," Ted Lindsey said.
"Me too."
"First things first," the Lieutenant said after Ted Lindsey left the room.
"This week is going to be the opportunity for you learn about Investigations and how we do things here. I suggest going out with any, and all, of the detectives... and CSU... and Coroner's to see how they operate."
Jerrod nodded.
"I'm always looking for better ways to do things. More efficient ways. And even totally reinvented ways, if necessary. As I told you a couple months ago, I really only care about the results, but the process is important too. Especially in government service, we tend to get too bogged down in tradition and policy and protocol... and budget. We get in our own way a lot of the time. I'm trying to break away from that."
"But, before you go anywhere," the lieutenant said. "It's time to meet the true brains of this operation."
"This is Linda," the lieutenant said to Jerrod. "She's the Investigations Division Secretary, but in reality, she runs the place... not me. She is the hub of this wheel -- we all are merely the spokes. She's as much 'detective' as any of us in here... she just doesn't have to carry a gun."
"Hello, Linda," Jerrod said as they shook hands.
"Linda already has an office set up for you and she holds the keys to 'Fort Knox'. She'll get you what ever you need to get started."
"Thank you, sir," Jerrod said.
Linda Westphal -- mid-forties, short, petite, serious -- said, "Let me show you where you'll be working."
She led him to a small office -- which could have been mistaken for a closet -- with a door adjacent to the lieutenant's office.
The brown plastic plate above the door read: "Staff Sergeant."
"The phone already works and the number is on that yellow Post-It," she said. "I've set your desk up with the standard office things and a box of business cards are in the drawer."
"Thank you," he said. "What's the 'Fort Knox'-thing the L-T mentioned?"
She laughed. "I don't call it that, but that's the name the detectives have for the office supply cabinet."
Jerrod smiled.
"If you need, say another pen or tape or whatever, just bring me the old one or the empty core and I'll replace it from Fort-, uh, the cabinet."
He laughed. "Old one for a new one. Okay."
"Get settled and just ask if you have any questions," she said. "And welcome to Investigations."
Jerrod tested the worn gray metal and maroon vinyl desk chair before settling in it. The desk matched the chair -- in age and wear -- and was no doubt surplus from another county agency. Except for a tape dispenser and a stapler, the top of the desk was empty -- a far cry from the desk he sat at the VVPD where he'd have to wade through stacks of case files to find anything.
He would have to get used to being able to look up and not seeing Craig Wallace sitting across from him smoking a Salem 100.
He looked in one of the drawers and found the box of new business cards. The cards -- printed on off-white stock with a small seven-point gold badge -- read:
County of Mesa
Office of the Sheriff-Coroner
Jerrod Gold
Detective Sergeant
Investigations Division
Jerrod had an office. And a box of nice business cards. And a stapler. And absolutely nothing to do.
CHAPTER 30
"So, what happens when you get a major case?" Jerrod asked Sergeant Brent Rozman.
Detectives Jeff Moreno and Calvin Yee were sitting at their desks in the cramped office.
"We throw everything at it," Brent said. "Everyone available works and we jump on all the leads as soon as they come in."
"Who's typically in-charge?" Jerrod said.
"The sergeants run the large cases," Jeff Moreno said. "We all have caseloads of other random cases to work between the big ones."
"The L-T gives us a lot of room to work," Brent said. "Especially violent crimes. He somehow keeps the budget-wonks in the office in-check by pushing our results in their faces."
Calvin Yee snickered. "What's a 'wonk?'"
"'Nerd,'" Jeff said.
"'Asshole,'" Brent added.
* * *
"Why does everyone call you 'Shroom?'" Jerrod asked CSU Detective Raymond Mingus. "And I hope you don't mind me calling you that."
"Not at all," Shroom said. "I've had that nickname since elementary school. "'Mingus,' sounds like 'fungus,' a mushroom is a fungus and 'Shroom' is short for 'mushroom.'"
Jerrod nodded.
"I'm pretty sure I've signed a check or two, by accident, with 'Shroom.'"
"How did you get this gig in CSU?"
"The coroner detective used to do all of the photography and evidence collection at death scenes and autopsy. He could get some help from the regular detectives, but that was hit-and-miss."
Jerrod thought back to the death investigations we had worked with Ted Lindsey.
"Long story... short," Shroom continued. "Ted got promoted to sergeant and went back to Patrol. I took his job and eventually got buried in all the work. Ted had moved over to the jail and proposed to Lieutenant Blanchard that the Coroner Section have a supervisor assigned to it. It got approved in the next budget and Ted came back over."
Jerrod nodded.
"Since then, it kind of morphed into where it is now. I started doing most of the crime scene stuff and Ted still handled the coroner function."
"Do you like doing crime scenes?" Jerrod asked.
"Love it." Shroom looked around his small, shared office. "I want to see CSU grow into it's own unit. That would be awesome."
* * *
"The Investigations Division," Linda Wesphal said, "meets every Tuesday and Thursday morning at 8:30 in the lieutenant's office. We get everyone up-to-speed on the active cases, scheduled time-off, new policy... you know."
"Okay," Jerrod said.
"This is the 'check-out board,'" Linda added as she pointed to a grid-covered white board hanging from the wall near her desk. "If you're going to be out of the office, use one of the pre-made magnet labels so we know where to find you if something happens."
Jerrod scanned the board and labels. "Court," "Mesa," "Willowmere," "Valle Verde," "Out-of-County," and many others which were self-explanatory.
"Linda, I see Bryce Zippich is checked out 'ATH,'" Jerrod said. "What does "ATH" stand for?"
A smile spread across her face. "'Across The Hall.'"
"I don't follow," Jerrod said.
"'Across The Hall,'" she added. "In the restroom."
CHAPTER 31
September 1990
"I'm sure glad you're not working in Patrol anyone," Laura Renaud said. "This mom worries about her boy when he's in uniform."
"Thanks, Mom," Jerrod said as he wiped his mouth with a linen napkin. He sat in the dining room of his mother and step-father's Rochester Avenue home in Valle Verde. "I absolutely love working Investigations at the Sheriff's Office. Great boss. Fantastic co-workers. Variety of cases. It's got to be the best job I've ever had."
"What sort of cases are you working on," Donald "Don" Renaud asked.
"You name it," Jerrod said, "Homicides, missing persons, drug asset seizures, crime scene work... the list goes on. We've made arrests in every major case I can think of."
"That sounds exciting," Laura said.
"I worked with one of the Assistant DAs," Jerrod added. "Her name is Lorena Delgado. We streamlined the search warrant paperwork, so it's down to just one form now. We wrote templates for the most common searches and it's way easier and faster now than just a few months ago. Any of the detectives can write a warrant in no time."
"'Delgado?'" Don pondered. "Is she Italian?"
"Maybe," Jerrod said -- wondering where he was going with his question. "Or Latina. Or Russian. Or Japanese. I don't know."
"Don't start, you two," Laura scolded.
"Sorry, Mom."
Tuesday Morning Meeting
"We have a special guest today," Lieutenant Eric Blanchard announced.
All eyes focused on the stocky, olive-skinned man wearing a tailored suit and conservative tie.
"This is FBI Special Agent Romero Diaz and he has been assigned to the Mesa field office as part of the new and improved FBI." The lieutenant turned to their guest. "Take it away."
Special Agent Diaz stood up from a chair along the wall opposite the lieutenant's desk. Without saying a word, he took a black DryErase marker from the tray of the whiteboard and removed the cap.
Jerrod looked at the lieutenant -- who glanced back and shrugged.
Romero Diaz wrote three ten-inch letters on the whiteboard:
F B I
Cross Examination: The Second Jerrod Gold Novel (The Jerrod Gold Novels Book 2) Page 10