They're Among Us

by M. L. WILSON

  ARRIVING AT THE station, Bishop stands in the doorway of the entrance to the homicide department and sees the usual scene: officers escorting handcuffed criminals, detectives interviewing suspects and witnesses, and yelling over the phone. A hostile environment, to say the least, but it’s the environment that Bishop considers his normal. A welcome distraction, in fact. Anything to take his thoughts off of the demons in his head.

  “Hey, Bishop! You look like crap!” Detective Bernard yells from across the room. Bishop tries his best to ignore him. He never liked Detective Bryce Bernard. Short, overweight, and self-conscious, Bernard compensates by being loud and obnoxious. Bishop recalls how he put him through a wall one day for insulting one of his partners.

  Fond memories.

  “Ever hear of an iron and a razor ole buddy?” Bernard continues.

  “Why don’t you sit your fat ass down somewhere and shut up!” Bishop says. The whole office erupts in laughter. No one likes Detective Bernard.

  “Go screw yourself, Bishop! Go screw yourself!”

  “Knock it off you two!” Captain Danvers orders from his office doorway. Bishop looks toward his captain’s office and sees Danvers beckoning for him..

  Bishop proceeds to Danvers’ office as instructed. The walk to his office, while only a few feet away, may as well be a few miles for him. His stride is a less than an anxious one as he ponders the possible purpose of this meeting with every step. Bishop starts going through any current event that he could be in trouble for. Fortunately, he’s drawing a blank.

  “Good morning, Captain,” says Bishop as he enters the room. It was all he could do to say even that much. He immediately notices someone seated in a chair facing the captain. All Bishop can see is the back of the person’s head, but he immediately gets the negative vibe that he was expecting. Maybe it’s the new shrink.

  “Good morning, Detective. Come on in.” Captain Danvers tries to be cordial, even though he knows how Bishop is going to respond to the news of getting a new partner. “Close the door behind you.”

  Bishop complies, and as he does, the Captain’s guest rises to his feet and faces Bishop with a smile.

  “Detective Bishop, I want you to meet your new partner, Detective Alan Justice.”

  Detective Justice extends his hand for a handshake, which Bishop ignores.

  “Please to meet—”

  “NEW PARTNER? CAPTAIN—”

  “I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT, BISHOP. YOU GOT A PARTNER! END OF DISCUSSION! CAPICHE?”

  Case closed, end of story. No sense arguing. Bishop stares at his captain for a moment, then at Detective Justice.

  “Another damn partner,” he says to himself.

  “Look, Captain. I’m better off on my own. The last partner I had—”

  “The last partner you had, you threatened to break his jaw.”

  “He was a jerk.”

  “Yeah. Everybody has a problem except Ken Bishop,” Danvers says. He pauses to take a deep breath. He’s learned over the years to count to ten when he’s dealing with Bishop.

  “Look. We all understand you’ve been through a lot, but if you want to stay on the force, you have to get with the program. You’re a good cop, but you’re becoming a pain in the ass. The kinda pain that I tend to get rid of. Understand?”

  “Yeah. I understand,” Bishop says as he storms out of the captain’s office. Justice looks at Captain Danvers with a what should I do now look that Danvers reads clearly.

  “Whatcha staring at me for, Detective? Go catch up with your new partner.”

  CHAPTER 21

  DETECTIVE BISHOP MAKES it to the police parking garage with Detective Justice in tow. He feels the weight of yet another issue he has to work through, as if he didn’t have enough on his mind already. Bishop doesn’t mean to be rude, but after all he’s been through, he’s just not ready to work closely with anyone.

  The two detectives finally make it to Bishop’s car, a 1974 black Pontiac Trans Am. No longer in the mint condition that it was in before, but Bishop still affectionately refers to it as his “toy.” Working on it on his days off was a tremendous stress reliever for him. He would spend hours cleaning and waxing it. Only Caroline and Briana could ever pull him away. They could draw his attention away from anything.

  Detective Justice walks around to the passenger side and waits for Bishop to unlock the door. He admires Bishop’s car but is hesitant to touch it until told to do so. No conversation between them since leaving the captain’s office, Justice is not sure what reaction he will get if he touched what is obviously Bishop’s pride and joy.

  “Nice car,” says Justice, attempting to break the proverbial ice.

  “Thanks.”

  Bishop pulls the keys from his pocket. He realizes that he has taken out his frustration on Justice and he feels guilty about it. He stops at the driver side door and stares at the ground for a moment, pondering the apology that he must give to his new partner. Bishop looks at Justice and releases a silent sigh.

  “Look kid, I—”

  “Justice, sir. My name is Detective Alan Justice.”

  “Don’t be so sensitive. Okay, Detective,” Bishop says with a grin. “Sorry I was rude back in the captain’s office, I just got a lot on my mind ya know.”

  “I understand, sir, considering all that you’ve gone through, losing your family and all.”

  “How the hell do you know about that?” Bishop says angrily. “You been spying on me?”

  “Something that tragic about a fellow officer gets around, sir. I didn’t mean to offend you, and I am sorry for your loss.”

  Again, Bishop recognizes that he let his emotions get the better of him. He remembers the e-mail to all staff expressing condolences. How could Justice not have known?

  “Calm down,” Bishop says to himself.

  “No need to apologize, Detective, and thank you. Doors open, hop in.”

  “Where are we headed?”

  “Got a DB in an alley off Sixteenth.”

  “DB?”

  “Dead body. You’ll learn the lingo soon enough, Justice. Let’s grab somethin’ to eat first.”

  CHAPTER 22

  NEW YORK CITY is the busiest city in the country, so much so that the food trucks and food carts have become a staple, especially in Midtown. Lawyers, police officers, college students, even an occasional judge, all eating on the go. They don’t offer the healthiest food, but they’re always there when you need them.

  This is fine dining for a police detective, though. Bishop has been eating on the go for years. It’s a miracle he doesn’t look like the other detectives in the homicide department—fat and out of shape.

  “Come on,” Bishop says as he parks. Justice is confused by Bishop’s sense of priorities.

  “Shouldn’t we be getting to the crime scene?” he says as he tries to keep up with Bishop.

  “I can’t operate on an empty stomach. Besides, the dead guy’s not going anywhere,” Bishop says as he stops oncoming traffic so he can cross. The drivers are not pleased, and they let Bishop know it.

  “GET THE HELL OUTTA THE STREET, YA JACKASS!” yells a cabdriver as he lays into his horn.

  Bishop doesn’t respond. He gets this treatment every morning. He’s used to it.

  “Back there, in the parking garage. I didn’t mean—”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Bishop says. “Everyone in the department knows.” Bishop takes out his wallet and orders the usual: hotdog with ketchup and mustard, loaded with sauerkraut.

  “Hotdog for breakfast?” Justice asks, turning his nose up at the thought.

  “What are you, my mother? You some kinda health nut?” Bishop says angrily. Justice doesn’t respond. He deserved that response. Stay in a rookie’s place.

  “Besides, it’s almost eleven. Technically, this is brunch.” Bishop pays the vendor and starts walking back to the car. Justice grabs a handful of napkins for him and rushes to catch up.

  “So. How many years have you been on the
force, Detective Justice?”

  “Eight years.”

  “Eight years. Wow! Took me twelve years to make detective. You must be some kinda hotshot,” Bishop says as he takes a bite out of his hotdog. Justice smiles, unsure if Bishop is joking or serious.

  “What’s your next move? Commissioner?” Bishop says sarcastically. That sarcasm is not lost on Justice.

  “Look, Detective, all I wanna do is be the best detective I can be. I’m not here to step on anyone’s toes. I know I have to earn my way—”

  “Damn right, you do,” Bishop interrupts.

  “And I don’t have a problem with that. I’m your partner so you’re gonna have to trust me. I got your back.”

  “Nice speech, Detective Justice,” Bishop says as he grabs a napkin and wipes his mouth. “I’ve heard a lot of nice speeches. Let me tell you somethin’. Keep your mouth shut and your ears open, and we’ll get along just fine. You screw up once, and I’ll have your ass walking a beat for the rest of your career. Understand?”

  “Yeah, I understand.” Justice realizes things are going to be a little tougher than he expected.

  CHAPTER 23

  BISHOP AND JUSTICE arrive at the crime scene to investigate the death of Kevin Phipps. The scene is the same as all the other crime scenes Bishop has seen in his career: police tape cordoning off the scene, uniformed police officers securing the area, curious onlookers with camera phones hoping to get good shots of the body so they can post it on social network sites.

  One thing is different, though. Bishop notices several people holding protest signs that read Killer Cops and Police Are The Enemy. Was this a police shooting and Danvers conveniently forgot to tell him?

  Bishop immediately knows that there’s far more involved than a murder here. There’s going to be some political fallout as well. He also knows why he got the case. Give the crappy job to the detective on the shit list.

  Bishop and Justice make their way through the crowd and show their badges to the officer and proceed to the scene.

  “Your first homicide investigation?” asks Bishop, to which Justice does not reply. “Nervous?”

  “Not really,” says Justice. “I’ve seen dead bodies before.”

  “Not so sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, Justice,” Bishop says humorously as he smiles at his new partner. Detective Justice’s initial reaction is one of apprehension, but when he sees Bishop smiling, he feels more comfortable. He’s glad to see his partner joking with him. Glad to see he still has a sense of humor.

  Justice notices Bishop’s smile abruptly turn into a scowl. Bishop’s eyes are laser-focused on the person just a few feet ahead of him. Someone he obviously doesn’t like very well. Leonard Brackett, Internal Affairs.

  Standing six feet tall, Brackett is well known for his persistence in getting at the truth, no matter who he has to piss off to get it. Brackett is in his early forties and is beginning to bald. He’s wearing a nice black suit with a dark-blue tie. The consummate professional. Everything by the book.

  “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Detective Kenneth Bishop,” Brackett says with a smile.

  “What’s the rat squad doing here?” Bishop says. “Careful what you say, Justice. IA’s just lookin’ for a reason to jam somebody up.”

  Brackett smiles, but Bishop is dead serious. He’s had several run-ins with Internal Affairs throughout his career. How can he not, being a New York cop?

  “There’s no need to be hostile, Detective Bishop. Just doin’ my job.”

  “Yeah, well, I got real cop work to do, so if you don’t mind.” Brackett moves out of the way to let Bishop and Justice pass.

  “Just so you know, Bishop, I’m getting closer to getting what I need. When I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “That’s mighty nice of you,” Bishop says, and he and Justice proceed down the alleyway.

  “You mind telling what that was all about?” Justices asks.

  “It’s not your concern,” Bishop snaps. Justice wisely doesn’t push the issue. Not this time.

  CHAPTER 24

  THEY GET TO the scene and see a body lying face-up and partially covered with a bright yellow tarp. Crime scene investigators are snapping hundreds of pictures of the alley and the body, and collecting anything that could be considered evidence.

  Bishop and Justice approach the on-scene commander, Sergeant Jeffery Kuntz. Kuntz is an eighteen-year veteran with the force and has seen scenes like this countless number of times in his career. At five feet ten inches and over two hundred and fifty pounds, Kuntz is a walking testimony against the continuous consumption of processed foods. His fellow officers jokingly tell him that he is a heart attack waiting to happen.

  Kuntz calls it “good living” all the while he’s taking his daily dose of blood pressure medication. Two more years is all he can think of. Two more and out the door, retirement.

  Staring at the body with a lit cigarette hanging from his lips, Kuntz looks up and sees a familiar face heading his direction, a face he has not seen in a while. He’s known Ken Bishop for over ten years.

  “Well, well, well. Lookit what the cat dragged in,” says Kuntz as the sight of his old friend brings a smile to his face. “The department must be getting pretty desperate to send you out here.”

  “Yeah, yeah. How ya been, ya big oaf?” Bishop asks with a smile as he approaches Kuntz and extends his hand to shake hands with his old friend.

  “Been well, old man,” Kuntz replies as he shakes Bishop’s hand in friendship. “Damn good to see ya.”

  Kuntz stares at Bishop for a moment, as if he wants to say something. He hasn’t had much contact with Bishop since hearing of the deaths of his wife and daughter, never had a chance to tell him how sorry he was. Unable to find the words, Kuntz moves on with the business at hand.

  “Well…who’s the kid?”

  “Detective Justice, meet Sergeant Jeffery Kuntz.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Sergeant,” says Justice as he extends his hand in friendship.

  Kuntz shakes hands firmly with Justice. “You’re working with the best detective on the force, Justice. Don’t screw it up.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Take out your notepad and take notes.”

  “Yes, sir,” Justice says nervously as Bishop looks on with a smile.

  Time to break in the rookie, Justice thinks. He expected this treatment.

  “Well, are you gonna tell me what we have here, Kuntz, or do I have to guess?”

  Kuntz smiles at Bishop’s humor.

  “Typical scene around these parts. The victim was shot in the back with something. Wallet was still in his pocket,” Kuntz says as he hands the wallet over to Bishop.

  “Kevin Phipps,” says Bishop as he studies Phipps’ driver’s license. “Money and credit cards are still here. Obviously, it wasn’t a robbery.”

  “You said he was shot with something.” Bishop asks. “What’s that suppose to mean?”

  “You heard me. Take a look for yourself.”

  Bishop takes a knee for a better view of the body. “Never seen a wound this severe from a gunshot. No blood. Just a body lying in a pool of oil.”

  “Yep,” Kuntz confirms. “And witnesses say they heard the shot and saw a man standing over the body. One of the witnesses screamed, and the man took off running.”

  “Then we know he died here,” Bishop surmises. “But where the hell is all the blood? Surely the killer didn’t take time to clean up his mess before running off.”

  Kuntz shrugs his shoulders at Bishop’s statement as Justice looks on and tries to develop his own theory.

  “We interviewed the witnesses,” Kuntz says. “They said a police officer was chasing him.”

  “That explains the protest signs,” Bishop says.

  “You mean, nobody told you?”

  “Nope.”

  “That sorry son-of-a—”

  “Let’s not deal with that right now, Sarge,” Bishop says as he interrupts Kuntz
while he’s expressing his feelings about Captain Danvers. “Let’s deal with the crime. The witness said she saw a cop?”

  “Yep. They described him as a tall, white male, maybe in his thirties. We checked the log for this area; we didn’t have a uniform over here at the time. No officer needing assistance calls from here either.”

  “No way a cop did this. Perhaps he was killed further down the alley and dragged here,” says Justice as he anxiously awaits what he hopes to be a positive response from the two veterans. Unfortunately for him, a positive response is not in the cards.

  “What are you talking about, kid? Where are the drag marks? Why drag the body here to this spot in the first place? Notes, son. Take notes.”

  “I was just trying to —”

  “Relax, Justice,” Bishop says. “No, he was definitely killed in this spot. It was obviously someone dressed up as a police officer.”

  “We got his apartment sealed off. You guys gonna check it out?” asks Kuntz.

  “Yeah.”

  “One more thing, take a look at the wound. No GSR.”

  As Bishop takes a closer look at the wound, Kuntz interrupts him.

  “Uh, hate to interrupt, but we have a visitor.”

  “The Chief of Ds is here?” Justice says nervously.

  Bishop looks down the alley and sees Chief of Detectives David Giordano and two of his aides approaching. If ever there was a politician in a police uniform, Chief Giordano was it. What’s worse, he hates Bishop.

  CHAPTER 25

  GIORDANO STANDS FIVE feet eleven inches and weighs a solid two hundred and fifty pounds. A former Marine, Giordano still wears the typical Marine crew-cut hairstyle. He’s a politician, but he’s as tough a cop as there is on the force. Even Bishop acknowledges that.

  He’s never cared for Bishop and is responsible for repeatedly putting Bishop under investigations in an effort to get him off the force. Bishop’s a tell-it-like-it-is person, which is exactly the type of officer Giordano doesn’t want on the force.