The Hooker, the Handyman and What the Parrot Saw

by Patricia Harman

  Dear diary, tonight Daddy made me . . .

  The responding detective and Operations Lt. Gerald Grisolm, who would later become Charlie’s CID captain, weren’t exactly thrilled with the overzealous rookie patrol officer, but on the other hand she did seem to have all of her bases covered so the Lt. let her run with the case and was there to help her with the details. As the case unfolded Charlie learned a few things.

  She learned she wanted to be a detective, in spite of her mentor’s strict no-suits policy.

  She learned that in order to save a victim of molestation at the hands of a family member, you must first destroy that child’s family with an arrest.

  It was a Catch-22 that Charlie was unprepared for and it hit her hard. Lt. Grisolm did what he could to prepare Charlie for the harsh reality of working a molestation case, but he was promoted to captain shortly after the Klasky case and transferred, leaving Charlie pretty much on her own. Captain Grisolm always felt bad about not being there for Charlie when things went sideways. He knew he couldn’t explain to her the madness in moving an innocent child from one room in hell to another and telling them you were “saving them.” That was the reality and Charlie had to learn it on her own. There was no other way.

  The case did make one thing clear to Charlie, the storybooks are bullshit. This was something her own childhood and Nicholas Cage had already taught her. She just didn’t know that it was true for so many others until she became a police officer.

  Charlie made Virginia Circuit Court history when she used Mary Jane’s diary to convict Paul Klasky without using the direct testimony of his traumatized daughter. In the year that led up to the court date, Mrs. Klasky committed suicide and Mary Jane was passed back and forth from family members to foster care and back again as the highly publicized trial drew near. The state secured a fifty-four-year sentence for the forty-one-year-old Klasky. He would never see the light of day. None of them would.

  Chapter 3

  Carneys—Small Hands

  Whenever Charlie saw Mary Jane, now blossoming into a beautiful young lady, she felt obliged to spend time with her after all she had been through, but now was not the time. Charlie was so overwhelmed. Mercifully, Mary Jane’s visit was brief and soon Charlie was back at it, but still not finished when her workout partner and lead detective Clint McCallister was ready to punch out that night and head to the gym. She would have to pass.

  “Peace out!” he had yelled as he walked past her office. “Going to Amy’s after.”

  She regretted passing on the work out. Clint didn’t need it but she sure did. Charlie Cavanaugh was not built for police work. She was tough and smart, but she was small; very small with small features, and the small hands of a carnival worker. Carneys . . . small hands, smell like cabbage as Mike Myers would say.

  Thankfully, she entered police work at a time when gender and size no longer mattered. At least it didn’t matter as much as it once had. The addition of pepper spray and TASERs, props to the Smith brothers of TASER, were great levelers of the playing field. The weapon of the future—Thomas A. Swift’s Electric Rifle, coined in the early 1970’s by inventor Jack Cover, after the fictional character created by Edward Stratemeyer in 1910. The TASER had saved her bacon more than once and that of a suspect she might have otherwise had to shoot. On most occasions, her diminutive size worked to her advantage rather than to her detriment. There wasn’t a whole lot of glory in beating up a 5’4” 118-pound female police officer.

  Unlike too many of her male counterparts, Charlie would rather talk her perps down than bash their skulls. “Just because you have the authority, doesn’t mean you have the right,” her mentor would say. On the rare occasion when she could feel herself about to lose her temper and was tempted to hold the trigger on her TASER a few seconds too long, she could detect a hint of Thompson’s cigar smoke that would bring her back down. Her mentor loved a good cigar (“good” being code for cheap) and Charlie loved him for it and for so much more.

  Charlie had a love affair with the Constitution that not all of her fellow officers understood or embraced. Protect, serve, and enforce; in that order. That was how she thought a public servant should behave. It was about public service, not power.

  When Charlie was promoted from patrol officer to detective and started working child molestation cases, civility and professionalism became scarce resources. She wanted to kill the bastards she dealt with for what they had done. For the innocence lost and for the lives altered in a way that no judge, jury, or prison sentence could ever undo. Charlie could see it in their little eyes; shock, betrayal, confusion, pain. Their eyes all looked the same. In her darkest hours in her bed at night as she slept, it was the eyes of these children that stared back at her . . . just before the train would come.

  Unfortunately, plea bargaining was a way of life for kiddy crime cases. Actually, plea bargaining is a necessary part of any kind of policing. Occasionally, John Q. Public gets a hair up their butt and tries to eliminate plea bargaining from the criminal justice system. Big mistake. In the case of kiddy touchers, plea bargaining protects victims. It saves the child from reliving the trauma on the stand and saves the parents from hearing it. It also lowers the threshold for guilt. Beyond a reasonable doubt is a pretty high benchmark to hit, and plea bargaining allows for justice to be served even if every box isn’t checked. It also cuts the backlog on cases by as much as sixty percent. Having to try every case would raise the cost of the criminal justice system in a way that would have taxpayers dumping tea. It’s necessary. The downside is, especially when prosecuting pedophiles, they don’t get enough jail time. As was the case with the two dead pedophiles from Charlie’s old cases.

  As a police sergeant in Major Crimes, Charlie wasn’t taking cases to court anymore but she was still trying to protect the predator from the prey. There was just a lot more to it now. There were personnel to manage—all men. There were reports to review, evaluations to write, vacations to approve, and mental health to monitor. It was exhausting. Charlie never really wanted to be promoted. She liked the front lines.

  “You take their stripes, you gotta take their shit,” Thompson would caution.

  When the promotion was offered, however, she accepted. But this left little room for anything else in her life. Truth be told, there wasn’t really anything else in her life anyway and never really had been. Charlie was a freak. No one seemed to fit with her. To say she had less than a traditional upbringing would be an understatement, and as for her introduction to sex—unconventional is a word that leaps. Charlie’s brother Tom was in and out mental health facilities in Georgia and her stepsisters lived in California where they had both attended college and built lives. Real lives. She loved them, but she was not like them and not close to them. Charlie was single. Divorced actually, but she preferred to say single. Everyone else that really meant something to her was gone. Her parents were gone. Cancer took them both. Her husband, a.k.a. The Plaintiff, was gone, but not gone enough. They still worked for the same police department though mercifully at different stations. Charlie had been alone most of her life but it wasn’t something she liked to think about.

  What she had left was Moses, Thompson’s talks-too-damn-much parrot, her job, her love of the sea, her movies, and her internet buddy, AJ. AJ was a headless, bodiless pretend boyfriend—words on a page. But his words meant so much to her. He meant so much to her.

  Chapter 4

  AJ

  AJ101-789: Hi Angel. How was your shift tonight?

  VABlueAngel: Better now that I am home and you are here waiting for me. 

  AJ101-789: It’s what I live for.

  VABlueAngel: Me too. I’ve become so attached to you and yet you are a zillion-miles away . . . or maybe you’re not lol. Actually, you could end up being my crazy Aunt Pat! Honestly though AJ, I don’t know how I would have gotten through the last year without you. Those fucking kiddy cases nearly b
uried me. I’m so grateful.

  AJ101-789: Language  Tell me about your day . . .

  VABlueAngel: Sorry. I really am trying but you know that a sewer mouth and police work go hand in hand. What does AJ stand for?

  AJ101-789: That has been my experience as well but you are better than that.

  He typed, ignoring the question she knew he could not answer.

  VABlueAngel:  I love how you look after me AJ. It’s been a long time since anyone has. Okay, I told you about the two homicides of the pedophiles right? Well, there’s been a development. Federal “help” was brought in.

  AJ101-789 Uh-oh.

  VABlueAngel: Right?! While I understand that a potential serial killer is very unusual for a small agency to deal with, I really resent the fact that a fed is being foisted on my team when I don’t need and didn’t ask for help. We are all seasoned investigators. Many of my detectives have worked for much larger agencies and we are perfectly capable of working a serial. He’s FBI. He’s flipping FBI, AJ. FEDERAL BUREAU OF IDIOTS. FEDERAL BUREAU OF INTUITION. FEDERAL BUREAU OF INJUSTICE. He’s apparently assigned to a regional major crimes task force in D.C., and since they can apparently afford to spare him (I’ll just bet) I’m going to be stuck with him. The chief said, via my captain, that we are to give him “every consideration” while he assists us. Thanks for the vote of confidence Chief. I have my best guy at the helm. Clint McCallister knows his stuff, he really does. He’s not much for tact but I guess that’s what I’m here for. So now I am going to have to be the buffer between Clint and the fed. This guy is as arrogant as any fed I’ve ever met and it’s annoying as hell. He also has kind of a command presence about him that is a tad unnerving. Maybe that’s why he’s arrogant but it’s going to be no fun trying to keep him in check. I’m not sure but he seems to get off on tuning me up. Like he is making fun of me or laughing at me or something? Am I rambling?

  Charlie and AJ’s paths had crossed when he sent her an email with suggested corrections to a post Charlie made on the police department’s public relations website about some child molestation legislation for which she was seeking community support. His unsolicited “corrections” had infuriated her until she learned he was serving in the military overseas and bored to tears. He told her he had been a police officer before 9-11, but quit his agency and signed up with the military just one month after the attacks, to defend his country.

  His love of country and duty struck at Charlie’s heart. He said he had a military assignment that, very much like police work, consisted of days and weeks of boredom, followed by moments of pure terror. He could never provide specifics however, and the closer they became, the more grateful she was not to know the kind of danger he was in. He told her he spent his downtime looking at police websites and starting up conversations with officers who might share their “war stories” with him to break the monotony.

  AJ didn’t know that Sergeant C. M. Cavanaugh was a woman but after her blazing email in response to his “corrections,” he researched her and found a photo. One look and his heart was gone. It was her department file photo. She was smirking at the camera like she had a secret. It was clear she was tickled to be photographed in a police uniform. She looked like a kid playing dress up. Huge brown eyes and pulled back shiny brown hair and that little smirk. She was up to something. It took weeks for AJ to engage her fully, but charming a woman was not difficult for him.

  AJ101-789: Yes, you are rambling. Is he single?

  VABlueAngel: How should I know?

  AJ101-789: Answer the question. Is he single?

  VABlueAngel: No ring.

  AJ101-789: Ahhh

  VABlueAngel: Here we go.

  AJ101-789: He’s attracted to you. He’s interested. That’s why he’s pulling your pigtails.

  VABlueAngel: Oh for Christ’s sake AJ, you think EVERYONE is interested in me!

  AJ101-789: I’ve seen your picture. You have an enchanting smile and hauntingly beautiful eyes—it is an indefensible combination kiddo. You’re beautiful and smart as hell. I also know your heart—also beautiful. I have no idea what kind of insane man would let you go, but I thank God for your ex’s lack of judgment and character—otherwise you might not be in my life.

  VABlueAngel: Maybe I am not the angel you think me to be AJ. Have you ever thought of that? I was, after all, fired from my marriage. In your life, AJ? Words on a page? I don’t know anything about you. I don’t even know what branch of the service you are in—you just popped on my screen. Can you believe it’s been over a year? How old are you anyway?

  AJ101-789: It’s been fifteen months and yes Charlie, you are in my life. You keep me going over here and you know me better than any woman ever has. I know that’s crazy but it’s true. I’ve never shared myself with anyone like I have with you.

  VABlueAngel: Oh . . . okay—just as long as there is no pressure. LOL

  AJ101-789: I realize that this is little more than a fantasy relationship to you and that I cannot expect fidelity from you on any level, but I need you to know my feelings for you are very real. They are life-sustaining in this depressing and endless hell hole. That being said, I also realize I have to be fair. I have no idea how many years it will be like this given my position and you have far too much to offer to spend your nights alone, but until a man appears who is deserving of your affection, your trust, and your gifts, please consider me a viable alternative.

  VABlueAngel: You are so much more than an “alternative.” You seem to be able to look into my soul. You comfort me, encourage me, and make me feel far less lonely. Oh crap! AJ, I’m being called back in to work. I’m sorry. I have to go.

  AJ101-789: I understand Angel. Watch your six.

  Charlie sighed as she looked for her gun. She had only been home for an hour and had only been talking to AJ for twenty minutes. Chats with AJ usually lasted anywhere from thirty minutes to two hours but they always ended the same way . . . with a smile. Her nights—his mornings. She got re-dressed in her black pants, her beige shell blouse, and her black blazer, handcuff case in the back, cell phone in the front, firearm on her side. She checked her look in the mirror. She was attractive—she guessed. The plaintiff had told her on their third date that she was cute. He went on to explain that an attractive woman’s looks fell into one of four categories: stunning, beautiful, pretty, and cute . . . and Charlie was “cute.” Cute was a fair description. Charlie had never considered herself pretty; she would never be beautiful, and she would damn sure never be stunning. This she accepted without self-incrimination on most days.

  His assessment of her, however, probably should have been a clue.

  A clue that he was an asshole.

  Chapter 5

  Closer

  Closer by Nine Inch Nails began to pound in his ears. That feeling was coming on. It was half terror, half exhilaration and the most intense phase of his slow and inevitable descent. “You let me violate you . . .”

  It was time. Time to get close to her. He wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything in his life, though he had never allowed himself to want for much. He learned early in life that he was not worthy. Some people were chosen to live worthy, if ordinary, lives. He had been jealous of those people for as long as he could remember. He was broken alright, but that was okay. More than okay. It allowed him to know what she needed. The broken call to the broken. Kindred spirits. The threat still existed, however, that she might be repulsed by the real him so he would just keep that little secret to himself. Everyone has secrets after all.

  He sighed and rubbed his temples. It had been too long. Watching scum die was amazing theater.

  They weren’t victims, he told himself. They were predators. His only regret was that there wouldn’t be time to terrorize them first, but the boy would never allow that. The boy had every justification to watch their kind suffer, but even after all he had been through it just wasn’
t in him. This had concerned him at first, but he was confident that he still had the upper hand and always would. After all, he was the one who saved the boy.

  Chapter 6

  Fucking Fed

  The call back into work involved a body that had been found in a dumpster at the Landon Mall. The twenty-something multi-pierced vape manager hit the dumpster with a flashlight before tossing in the garbage bag and instead of finding the usual raccoon, she found a body. As Charlie made the drive from her apartment to Landon Mall her mind now resisted all attempts at distraction. Another dead body meant she was forced to deal with the recent memory of the meddling Fed. When she had arrived at work that morning he was standing in her office, looking at the plaques and awards that hung on her I love me wall behind her desk.

  “Sergeant Over-Achiever, I presume,” he mused in a friendly manner that she wasn’t sure reflected sincerity or condescension. He was being too familiar and in response she had pulled back her shoulders and raised her chin as she proceeded to size up the stranger. He’s a cop—she figured that straight away. Not exactly a stretch to conclude given that someone had let him into the station, upstairs to the Criminal Investigations Division, and into her office, where he was now standing unescorted. That could only happen with credentials.

  He was a damn good-looking cop. Tall with a frame that suggested a lot of upper body muscle underneath his coat. He had thick brown hair, with waves that rivaled a perfect high tide. His eyes were deep brown and intense and she found herself staring at them, into them. Everything about him was massive and strong. He had a square head and a strong jaw with a dimple in his chin, and was dressed in a tailored long black cashmere coat that had to have cost a fortune. Pretention thy name is Fed.