CHAPTER NINE
I was still brooding and decided to go check out this guy’s story. He had to be full of it.
“Captain, I need to talk to you,” I said, sticking my head in the door once again.
“Come on Bartoni, I have more work to do than just listen to your conspiracy theories,” he said rubbing his eyes.
“It’s not about that.”
“Crap. Okay, but make it quick.”
“It’s about a PI named Garrett Brock.”
The captain looked up suddenly and sat forward.
“Garrett?”
“You know him?”
“Know him? He saved my butt. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Garrett.”
I know my mouth dropped open.
“Garrett took two bullets intended for me. One just missed his heart by an inch or so. Son-of-a-gun. Finest cop I ever knew. Smart as a whip. He was young but man he was sharp. He could think circles around the rest of us. He was the youngest Assistant Commissioner we ever had. He was positioned to be the next Commissioner until he took the two slugs. He saw the shooter and jumped in front of me and shoved me out of the way. He was laid up for months. While he was in the hospital recovering, his wife was killed in a car accident on the way to visit him at the hospital. Man, talk about a double whammy. He pretty much gave up on life for a long time. Finally he just quit the force. I owe that guy my life,” McGregor said.
I just sat there wide-eyed. Garrett Brock was for real? Geez, who would have thought it?
“Why are you asking about Garrett?”
“He came to see me. Said he was a PI and was working for the Andersons.”
“Really? They hired him to work the case?”
“That’s what he said.”
“That’s great,” McGregor said.
“What? He is a damned civilian,” I sputtered.
“A damned fine civilian and a PI. I can’t believe he was here. I wish I had known. I still like to keep in touch when I can. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about what he did,” McGregor said.
What the hell. I was looking for support, not adoration. I wanted McGregor to be mad as hell at some PI sticking his nose into our business. Instead he was telling me this guy was the best thing since sliced bread. This was certainly not going the way I wanted.
“Captain we can’t have every PI just sticking their nose in our business,” I argued.
“This isn’t just every PI. This is Garrett Brock. And yes he can stick his nose in as far as he wants. I have no problem with that. Hell Bartoni, this guy is a legend. If he hadn’t taken the bullets intended for me we would all be answering to him at this very minute. Just swallow that pride of yours and let him help with this case.”
“Does that mean sharing the case files?”
“It does.”
“I can’t believe this,” I said.
“Well you can believe it now. Did he leave a card or some way to contact him?” the captain asked.
“No.”
“Find him and tell him he is welcome to help. Tell him I would love to see him as well,” he said, doing one of those get out of here hand things like shooing off flies or something.
Now isn’t that just special? I am dismissed like a booger on his finger.
When I got back to my desk, Dan was still smiling.
“What?”
“How did it go with the captain?”
“Don’t ask.”
“But you want me to ask that’s why you said ‘what?’”.
“Is not.”
“Is too.”
“Stop it,” I said raising my voice.
“Hell of a guy, Garrett Brock, isn’t he?”
“What are you talking about?” I demanded.
“I looked him up. Did you know he was once the Assistant Commissioner? Youngest ever. Saved the captain’s life.”
“So what? He is a civilian now. That doesn’t mean anything,” I insisted.
“Is that what the captain said?”
“Just put a sock in it for once will you?” I said storming off to the coke machine.
I swear if he had laughed out loud I would have gone back and shot him.
***
As much as it galled me, I was being forced to call this jerk.
“Garrett Brock, Private Investigator.”
“Mr. Brock, Detective Bartoni.”
“Ah,” he said.
“Just what is it that you think you can do to help if I decide to include you in this investigation?”
“If you decided to include me I could do things that you can’t. Ask questions you can’t. Obtain information that is often difficult for the police to get. I have resources that you don’t have. I know people you aren’t allowed to associate with. In short, I can do the kinds of things you simply cannot do without getting into trouble. I answer to only one person. Me,” he said.
“Are any of these activities illegal?”
“Not as far as I am concerned.”
“That isn’t what I asked,”
“But that is my answer,” he said.
Why did he piss me off so much? I mean, what did I expect him to say? Hell yes they are illegal. It was just the way he was so sure of himself.
“I am giving it some thought. The last thing I want is for another officer to get shot because I didn’t use all the resources at my disposal,” I said.
“That’s very smart.”
See? I mean ‘that’s very smart’. It was just a statement and yet it somehow set my teeth on edge. It wasn’t so much what he said but the way he said it. Like he already knew I was going to let him in. Wait. McGregor. He wouldn’t have, would he?
“Alright Mr. Brock, if you want to come down to the station I will let you see the files. Perhaps you will spot something we have overlooked.”
“I’ll be down around 4 o’clock it that works for you,” he replied.
“That would be just fine.”
“See you then. Oh, please tell Captain McGregor I would like to drop in and see him for a few minutes too,” he said.
He hung up before I could tell him I wasn’t his personal secretary. Man he could get to me.
***
Mr. Cool came in at 4 o’clock right on the button. I already had a good line worked up for if he was late but nooooo, he couldn’t even do that right. I looked at him again and I had to admit, he was really handsome. It was just his self-assuredness that was bugging me. Who did he think he was…me? Maybe that was the problem. He reminded me of me. Whatever, it set my nerves on edge.
“Detective Bartoni,” he said nodding at me, “You must be her partner, Detective Roberts.”
“That would be me.”
“I’ve heard good things about you,” he said offering his hand to Dan.
What about me? People say good things about me too, you insensitive lout. Oh, oh. I could almost see the male bonding crap starting to flow and they had just shaken hands. Angie, this does not look good for you girl.
“So, no bad feelings,” Brock said, looking at me.
“Nope.”
“Good.”
“Where do you want to start?” I asked.
“I would like to read the files first. I understand that you have a video taken from a cell phone. I would like to see that as well.”
“You are welcome to them. We don’t have a whole hell of a lot,” Dan said, handing over the files.
“I’ll read them over then make a list of questions. It’s kind of late, you want me to take them home and work on them?” he asked.
“Yes,” Dan interjected.
“No,” I said.
He just looked at Dan and me.
“Angie, I need to go. Paula is pretty upset with me. I need to see if I can straighten it out.”
“So go. I’ll stay until Mr. Brock is done.”
“Look, I can work on them here and then just put them back on your desk,” he offered.
“No. I’ll stay,” I replied.
Dan? My buddy Dan is it? What happened to Detective Roberts? Men. They are so damn different. They just look at each other and decide if they like each other or not. It doesn’t matter about their hair, make up, the way they dress, or even the shoes they have on. They are such simple creatures. They understand nothing about how to pick friends. Simpletons.
“Sure. The break room has some really bad coffee, a coke machine, and some vending machines if you get desperate,” Dan told him.
“Thanks Dan. Hope everything works out with Paula,” he said.
Dan nodded like a bobble head. Please, just shoot me and put me out of my misery.
Good ole Brock plopped down just like Dan. I wondered if he did it just to annoy me the way Dan does. Probably.
Without another word he started in flipping through the files. I kind of watched out the top of my eyes as he ran his fingers down each page and then flipped to the next one. What the hell was that all about? He was just scanning them. What was the point?
An hour later he closed the last file and leaned back. I just looked up at him, waiting.
“The guy is a trained sniper. He is going to be able to hit his target at a range of 1200 yards if necessary. This guy is good. No, very, very good. I think we are looking for someone who was not only a sniper but actually trained them. He is going to be very hard to catch unless he screws up and that isn’t about to happen anytime soon,” he said.
“And you got that from just glancing at the files?”
“No. I read them all and it seems pretty clear to me what we are up against.”
“You read them. All that stuff in less than an hour. Right.”
“What can I tell you? Ask me anything that is in the file and I’ll tell you the answer.”
“Really? Alright. What was Cain’s full name?”
“James Allen Cain, thirty-eight years old, graduated from Richmond, Indiana High School, on the job thirteen years, hit twice, in the shoulder and jaw, still in intensive care,” he answered.
Damn him. Of course he was right. He was probably right about all of it but did he have to be so smug?
“Look Bartoni, there is no use being mad at me. It won’t help one bit. We have to work together on this or we are going to have a stack of dead officers. Someone is dealing out a form of justice, at least in their mind. We need to find out the common link and once we do that, we will make progress. Right now all we have are a bunch of disjointed pieces of a puzzle. We know our shooter is good and knows what he is doing. We have to work as a team if we are going to outfox the fox,” he told me.
I sat looking at him for a second. Ah what the hell. He was right. We were going no place fast and unless we were all on the same page, we would have more officers in blue being put in body bags.
“Alright Brock, I accept your analysis.”
“Garrett, please.”
“Alright Garrett. Angie will do.”
“Good. Now here are the things I noticed that you probably noticed as well,” he said and started throwing out observations.
I have to admit, he caught two or three things that we had missed including how he knew the guy was trainer of snipers, not just another good shooter.
When I headed home, as hard as it was to admit, I had a new respect for Private Investigator Garrett Brock.
CHAPTER TEN
The next morning was dark and gloomy. I looked out and could see that it was getting ready to let lose any moment. I hated to drive the Healey in the rain. It got around okay but it had a tendency to leak in various places. Evidently the British thought that was charming so they didn’t bother trying to tighten it.
I, on the other hand, found it a pain in the rear. The most persistent drip was right where the window met the top. The drops would fall right on my left thigh so my pants would be soaking by the time I got to work.
I was surprised to see Garrett already in and sitting at Dan’s desk. I just nodded and headed to get my Diet Coke and coconut donuts. I stopped short. All the donuts were gone? How could that be? There were two packs still left when I went home last night. I grabbed a coke and went back to my desk.
As I passed Dan’s desk I saw the wrappers from my donuts in Dan’s trashcan. What the hell? They empty the cans every night. I stopped and looked at Garrett and then the trashcan. He looked up with a confused look on his face.
“What?”
“The donuts.”
“Donuts? Oh yeah. I love those little coconut ones,” he said.
“No. Coconut donuts are my thing. They are my breakfast, every day without fail,” I said still looking down at him.
“Not today,” he said and shrugged.
That’s it. I can take a lot of things but messing with my Diet Coke or coconut donuts borders on life threatening. We are authorized to use deadly force when faced with life threatening situations and I consider this to be one of them.
“Look Garrett, I will bend on some things but keep your hands off my donuts. I mean it,” I said storming over to my desk.
“I just figured you for a Honey Bun girl,” he said.
Fortunately Dan came up the stairs, nodded and headed to the break room. Garrett got up and stood beside Dan’s desk until he came back with his coffee.
“Morning Dan.”
“Ugh,” Dan replied.
That was his usual reply until he finished his first cup of coffee.
“I’ll let Angie go over what we discussed last night while I go see Captain McGregor.”
Dan just nodded again.
“Angie?” Dan said after he had left.
“Don’t. We made a truce for the good of the case,” I added.
“I see.”
“Don’t read anything else into it.”
“Never crossed my mind.”
“Did too.”
“Anyway, what did the two of you discuss?” he said with a smile.
I brought him up to speed on what Garrett had gleaned from the files and Dan said, “Good points. I guess we should have picked up on those.”
“Whatever. He wants to go look at each of the shooting sites.”
“Why?”
“I guess, like the files, he thinks he might see something we missed.”
“Okay,” Dan said shrugging.
***
Twenty minutes later Garrett came out of the captain’s office laughing. The captain patted him on the back as he walked away.
“Buddies I guess,” Dan said.
“Oh yeah,” I replied.
When he came over we all headed downstairs to visit the shooting sites. We first went to 24th and Jackson where Tomlinson had died and Cain had been wounded. I took him over to the building and showed him the shooter’s ingress and egress. We climbed inside and went up to the place where the shots had taken place.
Dan and I watched as he spent a good deal of time walking around the area and looking out of the hole in the plywood.
“Nice,” I heard him say once.
After twenty minutes he was ready to go to the next place. When we got into the car I decided to ask him what he saw.
“First of all, he is more than just good. This guy is a real expert. The place he picked was where the light was good for him but not for the police cruiser. The number of steps to the stairs was only six. He set up the stand in the middle of the room so no flash could be observed from any direction. I’m amazed that the woman who took the video even knew what building it came from. He picked that window so the sound would be reverberated off the other buildings. It was extremely well thought out,” he told us.
I had pretty much figured all of that out, except for why that floor and why the middle of the room. I might have not picked up on the number of steps to the stairs either, but other than that, I had it pretty much pegged.
Our next stop was at Halstead. Riley and Anderson had been shot there. Riley was DOA and Anderson did make it to
the hospital but they couldn’t save him. The Anderson family had hired Brock to investigate.
We went through the same routine and he made a few more comments and observations that added to the overall picture.
As we were headed to the last shooting scene, I asked him why the Andersons had contacted him.
“Honestly, I was pretty shocked when they called. It had been only a few days since they buried him and here they were calling me. I asked why the hurry and they gave me two reasons. The first was that the police never shared anything about what was going on. They had to hear everything on the news and even that was marginal. The second reason was that they felt you would not move fast enough to keep other officers from dying. Too much time is wasted while proper procedures are followed. They wanted someone who could cut through that bull and find this guy and bring him in one way or the other.”
“They do know you can’t just shoot him, don’t they?”
“I did mention that but I don’t think they were listening. He was their only child and this has really torn them apart. They know it was nothing he could have done to get himself killed. The kid was a rookie. He hadn’t even had a major bust yet.”
“So they think we can’t or won’t do our job?”
“I don’t know what they think but I do know they want the bastard stopped and will do whatever it takes.”
“And that’s where they think you will come in,” I said.
“No. That’s where they know I will come in,” he replied.
Just about the time I almost think I can tolerate him, he goes and says something like that. It was quiet in the car for some time. Finally Garrett spoke up.
“How did it go with Paula?” he asked.
“Not so good.”
“Is the relationship worth saving?” he asked.
“I think so. She is pretty mad and I don’t really understand it. Yeah I did some shots with a guy at a bar. I got her a cab to take her home before we started so I wouldn’t try to drive her while impaired and put her in danger. It isn’t like I just walked off and dumped her.”
“So you put her in a cab and then go drinking with one of your buddies?”
“Not a buddy, some bigmouth guy who started in on me. Said he could drink me under the table. He just wouldn’t shut up so I decided to show him who was the better man. We did shots of Tequila.”
Payback (Angie Bartoni Case Files Book 13) Page 6