Covert Exposure

by Valerie J. Clarizio

  When Spinelli deemed the area secure, he gave Shannon the okay to exit the minivan. He caught a glimpse of her eye roll. “Hey, I’m just making sure it’s secure for your own good,” he growled.

  Spinelli followed Shannon into the apartment building and up three flights of rickety stairs, gripping the handrail more firmly with each passing step. Stale dry air swept through the narrow corridor, stinging his lungs with each breath he took. The floor felt spongy under his feet and the hallway lights cut in and out, as they pleased. The intense aroma of decaying mice made his eyes water. He absently patted them with the sleeve of his jacket.

  Shannon knocked on the Washington’s apartment door. A young girl answered. Spinelli studied her. He figured she must be Lesha, the oldest of the children.

  “Mama, Ms. O’Hara’s here,” Lesha yelled over her shoulder.

  “No school today?” Shannon asked as she stepped through the doorway.

  “Daddy told Mama that we couldn’t go anywhere until he gets back,” Lesha innocently replied.

  Charmane rounded the corner from the hallway and stepped into the living room. When she glanced toward Shannon, she started to smile until she noticed Spinelli standing in the doorway. Charmane threw her hand over her heart and the black and blue eyes she sported immediately swelled with tears.

  Well, I guess she knows why we’re here…Christ, Spinelli thought.

  As Shannon explained the process to Charmane, Spinelli scanned the small filthy apartment. Mildew lined the tan colored fabric on the couch where Lesha sat and watched television. Dirty dishes and soda cans covered the end tables, and dirt-smudged toys littered the floor. The bubbling wallpaper reeked of dampness, a piece of plywood covered one of the two windows in the living room, and the entryway closet door hung crooked by only one hinge. The apartment wasn’t fit for a litter of feral cats.

  Charmane began to sob hysterically and begged Shannon not to take her children. Spinelli shifted his eyes to Lesha and watched her as she continued to stare at the television, not once looking in her hysterical mother’s direction. He noted how Darius, on the other hand, clung to his mother’s leg and sobbed along with her. He wondered if three-year-old Darius even understood why his mother cried. And if that wasn’t enough, the screams of baby Christina began to bellow from down the hall. Charmane shook Darius from her leg, and headed down the hall. She returned moments later with Christina in her arms and Darius resumed his leg-clinging position. She continued to beg Shannon not to take the children.

  Spinelli watched as Shannon turned her attention from Charmane to Lesha and held her hand out toward her. “Lesha, honey, it’s time for us to go.”

  Lesha simply rose from the couch and took Shannon’s hand. Shannon held her other hand out to Darius but he refused to let go of his mother’s leg. “Come on, Sweetie, we need to go now,” Shannon said softly. Darius still refused.

  This production went on for what seemed like an eternity to Spinelli, and he knew for sure that the noise level produced by Charmane, Darius, and the baby would permanently deafen him if he didn’t remedy the situation immediately. He walked over to Charmane and simply plucked the screaming baby out of her arms and plunked her into Shannon’s free arm, then he reached down and broke Darius’ grip on his mother’s leg, lifted him up and perched him on his hip, and then motioned for Shannon to follow him. Charmane dropped to her knees threw her hands over her face and wept into them.

  Spinelli turned on his heel and refused to look back. On his way out of the apartment he stopped by the hall closet and retrieved three small jackets looking close to the sizes needed and he exited the apartment.

  Spinelli followed Shannon out of the building. When they reached the minivan, she loaded the kids in and took her place in the passenger seat. She spoke not a word.

  Darius and Christina continued their wailing as Spinelli drove to the address of the foster home. He watched and listened to Shannon as she interacted with the children. He couldn’t help but notice how her soft soothing voice and warm eyes calmed them.

  Spinelli helped carry the kids into the foster home and then went back to the minivan and waited for Shannon to complete her business. He leaned his head back against the headrest. He found himself daydreaming about his good old life as a homicide detective. Only hours passed since he last worked on a homicide case but at this very moment, it felt like decades to him.

  Spinelli snapped out of his daydream when Shannon opened the door and slid into the passenger seat.

  “Where to now? What’s next on our agenda?” he asked as he signaled and pulled away from the curb.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shannon suck her plump ruby red bottom lip into her mouth and chew on it for a moment. She released her lip and sucked in a deep breath. “Back to the office. Just take me back to the office.”

  The coolness in her voice sent a shiver throughout Spinelli’s body. Half an hour ago, this woman’s voice seemed so soft and soothing but now it seemed cold and hard as ice.

  Spinelli stopped at a red light and turned his head in her direction. “Well how does this work? We do this type of thing all day or what?”

  Spinelli observed her face. Sometime in the last hour or so, it transitioned from its soft smooth looking milky white color to the reddest of all reds. The heat escaping her pores warmed the entire vehicle without the help of the van’s heater. Spinelli unzipped his jacket. Shannon sat silent, staring forward. “What, what the hell’s the matter?” he asked.

  She slowly turned in his direction and when her eyes met his he felt as though they grabbed a hold of his and clamped on like a vice grip. He fought to break free from her stare but she wouldn’t release him. He admired her strength yet it scared the hell out of him. A car horn sounded behind them and he tore his gaze from her and focused it on the green traffic light. He pressed the accelerator toward the floor.

  Spinelli parked the minivan in the parking lot. Shannon sprang out of the van like a jack-in-the-box on speed. In two long quick steps, he caught up to her. He reached forward, wrapped his hand around her wrist, and tugged slightly to slow her down. She stopped and spun on her heel to face him. She looked up at him and just stared for a moment, then shook her wrist loose from his grip, spun around and headed into the building.

  He stayed on her heels as she nearly sprinted up four flights of stairs.

  “Ms. O’Hara,” Spinelli called, his voice so high-pitched his own ears hardly recognized it.

  Shannon stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face him. She pulled her eyebrows together, and fixed her green eyes on him. He struggled for a voice. Moments passed before he finally asked, “What’s wrong? What did I do to piss you off so much?”

  Shannon took a step toward him, raised her hand, and pointed her petite pale finger in his face. She clenched her teeth and then spoke through them. “You, I have never encountered such coldness from another human being in my entire life. Do you have any idea what you put that family through, ripping the children from their mother’s arms like that?”

  Spinelli watched as her body shuddered. He cocked his head to the side and pulled a frown. “Let me get this right, you’re pissed at me because I yanked a couple of screaming kids out the arms of a crack whore. Aren’t you the reason we showed up on her doorstep in the first place? Wasn’t it your call to remove the kids from the home? The way I see it you should be thanking me for getting your job done for you.”

  “Thanking you, I should be thanking you? Are you nuts? Those kids were devastated. There is a protocol to handling this type of situation, which you totally shot out the window. I can’t believe they sent someone like you to work in our department,” Shannon bit back.

  His blood boiled. “What do you mean someone like me? You mean someone who’ll tell these crack whores and child abusers that we’re not going to put up with their crap? It’s because of people like you, and your touchy feely bullshit, that these pieces of shit keep living the way they do and treating their kids the way the
y do.”

  Spinelli watched as Shannon closed her eyes and drew in a couple of deep breaths. He reached toward her. She raised her hand and held it inches from his chest. She shook her head. “I can’t talk to you right now or I’ll just say things, things that aren’t nice.”

  Shannon turned, pushed her way through the stairwell doorway, and walked down the hall toward her office. Spinelli stared after her.

  Spinelli took two steps back and leaned against the wall of the stairwell. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at his feet. Sweat began to bead on his brow and his vision blurred as horrible memories of his past surfaced. To make matters worse the harsh words Shannon spoke seconds earlier rotated through his mind over and over with the unpleasant memories. I can’t believe they sent someone like you to work in our department. I can’t believe they sent someone like you to work in our department. I can’t believe they sent someone like you to work in our department. He wondered what exactly she meant. She knew nothing about him or his life. He squeezed his eyes shut hoping to extinguish the awful childhood memories. It didn’t work. Cherry Street, of all places why did the Washington home have to be on Cherry Street? The very same street where he grew up.

  Spinelli opened his eyes and absently glanced around the stairwell. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself now. Should he go back downstairs to his precinct or should he go back up to Social Services? He chose to head downstairs to his precinct, to his comfortable life.

  Chapter Four

  Spinelli stepped through the doorway of his precinct to find Walker and Marsh gathered around their open-case board. He stood behind them taking in their conversation and he watched as Walker hung photos of a dead body on the board.

  Spinelli leaned forward and studied the photos. “You gotta be kidding me. Is that Santa Claus?”

  Walker turned to face Spinelli. “Sure is. He took a 22 round to the back of his head. The medical examiner put the time of death at about 11:00 last night, about two hours after the mall closed.”

  Spinelli crossed his arms over his chest as he continued to study the photos. “What do we know?”

  “Motive looks like robbery. His wallet’s missing. Mall security identified him as Roland Hudson, age sixty-eight. They said he’s been playing Santa at the mall for years,” Marsh added.

  Spinelli was about to ask more questions when he heard the shrill voice of Captain Jackson yelling his name. He squeezed his eyes shut and wished himself anywhere but in the office at that very moment.

  “Yeah Cap. What’s up?” he asked in his smooth self-assured voice.

  “In my office now!” she demanded.

  Spinelli exchanged glances with Walker and Marsh and headed toward his death sentence. The second he entered the Captain’s office she met his gaze. She hadn’t said a word but he felt like he’d been scolded and beat to a pulp. He took a seat in the chair opposite her desk and watched her large nostrils flare in and out. Jackson ran her hand through her thick short black hair and cleared her throat. “What did you do to Ms. O’Hara? You’ve been upstairs less than half a day and her boss is already calling down here looking for a replacement for you. Fontaine said she’s never seen O’Hara so upset.”

  Jackson leaned forward and placed her elbows on her desk, resting her chin on her fingers as she stared down her nose at Spinelli. Though she only stood about five-foot-five and weighed all of one hundred thirty pounds, she managed to scare the hell out of him at times. He shifted his body in the chair leaning back to make himself more comfortable. “I don’t know. I just helped her take a few kids out of a crack whore’s home. I guess maybe she didn’t like how I did it.”

  Spinelli flashed his lady-killer smile at Jackson to try to loosen her up a bit but it didn’t work. “Spinelli, I don’t have time for this crap. Why can’t you ever just play nice with people?”

  He opened his mouth to speak but Jackson cut him off. “I told Fontaine that you are all that is available right now and she’ll just need to make due. I told her I would talk to you and that you would do whatever she and Ms. O’Hara instructed you to do. Have I made myself clear, Detective?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Now get your ass back out there and work with Walker and Marsh on the Santa Claus case until Ms. O’Hara needs you. You’re going to give her the rest of the afternoon to simmer down. She doesn’t need your services again until tomorrow. And Spinelli, try to soften up a bit.”

  He fought to not roll his eyes as he lifted himself from his chair. Well, on a good note at least he got to work on something productive for the remainder of the afternoon.

  Chapter Five

  Spinelli arrived at the precinct bright and early Friday morning in hopes to study Walker and Marsh’s Santa board before reporting to Ms. O’Hara.

  He nudged his way between Walker and Marsh. “Anything new on Santa?”

  “His blood alcohol level came back at .06. No sign of struggle. Just the .22 to the back of the head,” Walker replied as he flipped open the manila folder and scanned the medical examiner’s report. Spinelli leaned toward him and craned his neck to review the report as well.

  Spinelli finished reading the report and took a couple of steps toward the Santa board then he looked back at Walker and Marsh. “So he played Santa until 9:00 p.m., the Coroner put his time of death at about 11:00 p.m., his blood alcohol level came back at .06, and they found him in the mall’s parking ramp a few stalls away from his vehicle. So he drank alcohol at the mall? Any reason he would still be at the mall two hours after his shift ended? And where, when and with who did he drink?”

  Walker closed the folder then tossed it onto his cluttered desk. “Marsh and I questioned the security guards that were on duty between 9:00 p.m. and the time he was found and nobody seems to know anything. We’re going back over to the mall again today to review more security tapes and talk to more mall employees.”

  Spinelli noted the time. He raked his hand through his hair and willed his feet to move in the direction of the stairwell leading to the fourth floor.

  Within minutes, he found himself knocking on Ms. O’Hara’s office door. Before she could even look up from her desk, he strapped on his lady-killer smile hoping it would smooth things over. “Good morning, Ms. O’Hara. Reporting for duty.”

  Shannon looked up from her desk and spoke through her clenched jaw. “Morning, Detective Spinelli.”

  Spinelli kept his gaze fixed on her. She looked angry and she looked as though she wanted to say more but he wasn’t sure he wanted her to. He cleared his throat to speak, to take control of the moment, but she beat him to it.

  “Well Detective Spinelli, Ms. Fontaine tells me we’re stuck with each other. And just for the record, I’m well aware of the fact you don’t want to be here and I’m sure you are aware of the fact that I don’t want you here, but I promised Ms. Fontaine that I would do my best to work with you for the next several weeks. So how about we start fresh today and put yesterday behind us?”

  Spinelli thought for a moment. He knew he didn’t have a choice in the matter. Jackson would string him up if he screwed up again. Oh how he missed Mad Dog. This is all Mad Dog’s fault. If he hadn’t retired I wouldn’t be in this predicament. Spinelli offered a crooked smile and nodded. “Okay, fresh start it is.”

  “Great then, and just so we’re clear, your behavior yesterday in the Washington home was completely out of line. And in order for this arrangement to work we need to just stick to the plan which basically means that you need to keep quiet and do as you’re told,” Shannon replied, unable to hide the disdain in her tone.

  Ouch.

  Spinelli opened his mouth to defend himself but thought better of it when an image of Captain Jackson’s unpleasant glare flashed through his mind. He pressed his lips together.

  Spinelli stepped into Shannon’s office and took a seat in the chair opposite her desk. He leaned back in the chair and stretched out his legs, making himself at home. He stared across the desk at h
er and wondered if she wore her hair in that “old lady” bun every day or if perhaps, she let it down at times. The dull suit she wore today reminded him of the drab suit she wore yesterday but rather than navy blue today’s version came in a frumpy dark brown color. He wondered if she ever wore clothes that suited her age and petite, yet shapely, body. He imagined she might look pretty hot in one of those fitted sweater dresses gathered tightly at her waist with a big clunky belt. He further imagined her in a pair of sexy tall black boots.

  He looked on as Shannon dug through the neatly stacked files on her desk. “Here it is. The Smith file,” she said as she flipped the file open and drummed her fingers on her desk as she scanned the contents.

  Spinelli fought the urge to reach over and place his hand over her drumming fingers.

  Shannon closed the file and looked up at him. “We need to do an unannounced visit today at the home of Mike and Tiffany Smith.”

  “What’s the story?” Spinelli asked.

  “The Smiths…well they’re a little…shall we say slow. They’re trying to care for a three month old but it’s not going very well.”

  “What part isn’t going well?”

  Shannon sucked in a deep breath then exhaled. “Well, the Smiths are in their mid-thirties but their academic level is somewhere in the neighborhood of about the fifth grade level. They’ve made numerous visits to the emergency room with the baby.”