Deadly Enterprise

by Kevin G Chapman

  “Unless the item might have some other substance on it that could contaminate the evidence,” Officer Swanson called out.

  Mike smiled, nodded his head, then told the group to study sections three and four of the training manual on evidence collection and chain-of-custody protocol for the next session. As the officers filed out of the room at the top, Jason slid over to the side and walked down the steps to the pit, where Mike was talking to three uniformed officers who had charged up at the end of class like puppies at meal time. Jason waited patiently while Mike answered questions and pointed out to one young officer why nail clippers would not be a good choice as an evidence-collection device. When the last officer had turned to leave, Jason approached Mike and sat down in a front-row seat next to where he was standing. Mike sat in the adjoining chair and faced his partner.

  “What brings you to the lower decks, Detective Dickson?”

  “I just want to remind myself how much I don’t know,” Jason said with a playful smile.

  “Well, if you still need teaching, then I’m a failure as a partner,” Mike retorted. “How’s that Barker case going?”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk about,” Jason said, getting up from the chair so that he could take a stroll around the front of the room while he talked. “It’s actually kind of a chain-of-custody issue, but involving a person instead of a piece of evidence.”

  “How so?”

  “It’s Christine Barker. She was picked up for solicitation a little more than a month before her death. She was brought in and put in a holding cell. Now, normally they would either get the night court judge to issue her a desk summons and cut her loose, or hold her overnight and process her in the morning. But in this case, she was held in the lock-up for two days.”

  “Maybe they were waiting to charge her with something else?” Mike suggested.

  “Yeah, could be, but they never did. She sat for two days, then got released without a desk summons or any charges. Just cut loose, free and clear.”

  “Didn’t she have some other outstanding charges?”

  “Yes,” Jason said, stopping to pick up an eraser and start clearing Mike’s chalk scrawl off the blackboard. “She had an arrest warrant outstanding for failing to appear on a prior desk summons.”

  “Maybe that’s why they held her for two days.”

  “You would think that,” Jason replied, “but this is where it gets weird. She was arrested three times under her correct name, Christine Barker. Then, when she was picked up for solicitation, she gave her name as ‘Christine Baker’ and claimed not to have any ID, so she was processed under that name.”

  “So, maybe they were holding her until they could verify her identity,” Mike suggested.

  “That would make sense,” Jason responded, “but it doesn’t seem that they ever made the connection. They just cut her loose, without any record of an interrogation.”

  Mike raised an eyebrow. “Nothing?”

  “Nope,” Jason said. “There’s no record of her ever leaving the holding cell. She was never signed out, never questioned, never spoke with a PD, never made a phone call, nothing.”

  “That’s not possible,” Mike muttered softly, then looked up at Jason. “Even without the name issue, there’s always a record of a prisoner in custody having contact with somebody. Nobody stays in a lockup cell for two days without any contact.”

  “That’s why it’s weird. Everything about this case is weird.”

  “When was she next arrested?” Mike asked.

  “She wasn’t. That was her last record in the system. After that, she dropped off the map until we found her in the river. That’s just one of the things that bugs me about this case.”

  “What else?” Mike asked.

  “It’s a lot of little shit. You remember that Doctor McNeill identified three other girls who died from heroin overdoses and she thought they were maybe similar?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, you would think it would be easy for me to pull those files, but I requested them two weeks ago and they haven’t come in yet. They’re all lost.”

  “Curious. But files get lost. It’s not like those were important or high-profile cases.”

  “True, but all three?”

  Mike paused to ponder the significance of the missing files. “I guess that does seem particularly unlikely.”

  “So, you think it means anything?”

  “It could,” Mike admitted, “but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Those files being missing doesn’t mean that somebody is trying to prevent us from making connections between them and Christine Barker.”

  “But it could,” Jason said.

  “Yeah. It could.”

  Chapter 17 – Standing Down

  Tuesday, March 5

  THE NEXT DAY, Detective Steve Berkowitz grabbed Jason and told him that Captain Sullivan wanted to see him – without Ray. Jason reported as instructed and noticed when he walked to the office that the captain had drawn the blinds. That was generally considered a bad omen. Sullivan, who was on the phone, waved him in and motioned for him to shut the door and take a seat, which Jason did. When he had completed his call, the captain turned to Jason with an unexpectedly friendly expression on his face.

  “Dickson, I don’t want a problem here, so just listen. I made a call about the Gallata prostitution ring angle you’re chasing on that Baker case.”

  “Barker,” Jason said softly.

  “Whatever!” Sully yelled, but then composed himself. “As it turns out, there’s an ongoing undercover operation involving a prostitution operation in Brooklyn and somebody downtown thinks that your girl might have been involved in it. The district commander wants you to share your information and work with the vice guys on this. Make a copy of all your case notes and forward them to Lieutenant T. Warren Magnan at the Vice unit out of the ninety-fourth precinct. He’s in charge of the undercover operation. He’ll take the information and make sure that you and McMillian get any leads linking her death to anyone within the scope of their investigation. As far as I’m concerned, you can let them take the damned case and you can stand down. Understand?”

  Jason contemplated making a point or two about how he and Ray might leverage the information from the Vice unit to aid in their investigation, but then decided it was futile and just gave up. “I understand, Captain.” He slowly rose from the chair.

  Then Sullivan had one more thing to say. “You tell McMillan. And tell Stoneman.”

  “Right,” Jason said as he walked out. The eyes of the cops in the bullpen were all fixed on Jason as he exited the captain’s office. “What are you all looking at?” he snapped as he walked toward Ray, who was sitting at his desk. Jason motioned him into the conference room and gave him the news.

  “When are you going to tell the M.E. that we’re going to be standing down on this investigation?” Ray asked.

  “I’m not going to tell her,” Jason replied.

  Ж Ж Ж

  “Why do I have to tell her?” Mike asked Jason as they sat at a tiny table against the freezing cold window of the diner at 70th Street and Broadway. Mike liked the place because it had cheap breakfast specials and was a block away from his apartment. The temperature had plummeted down to deep winter levels despite the calendar saying that spring was just around the corner. An ooze of cold air seeped through the cracked caulk as they watched pedestrians, bundled in their heavy parkas, gloves, and furry hats, hurry by outside. Mike was attacking his egg white, onion, and mushroom omelet, with a side of cottage cheese. Not his usual, but he wanted to impress Jason with how healthy he was eating during his rehab. Plus, he had to make up for the huge dinner at Darren’s house.

  “Because the captain wants to make sure that this has a lid put on it, and the only person who might still push it is Doctor McNeill, and she’s more likely to take ‘no’ for an answer from you.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Jason. She’s less likely to listen to me. She’s more likely to
try to get me to do what she wants. She’ll listen to you. You should do it.”

  “I’m not going to do it,” Jason said flatly. “I’ll just send her an email.”

  “Then she’ll call me and ask me about it,” Mike said. “Which means that I’ll end up talking to her about it regardless, right?”

  “Right.”

  “You’re a bastard.”

  “I know.”

  “So, you and Ray can still work the case, right? It’s not like the whole investigation is shut down.”

  Jason looked across the table and took a bite from his toasted corn muffin before responding. “Mike, the case is a dead end, the captain wants us to bury it, and we’ve got the Rosario case to chase, along with all the other incoming stiffs. I’m pretty happy to let the vice guys take the lead.”

  “I know,” Mike said dejectedly. He scooped up the last of his eggs and took a bite of his multi-grain toast, devoid of butter or jam. “Have you checked out this guy, Magnan?”

  “A little. He’s a lifer. Older than you, Mike. I’m surprised your paths haven’t crossed.”

  “I might have bumped into him a few times, but he’s in Vice, so it’s another world.”

  “True enough,” Jason said as he drained his coffee mug and stood up. “I need to get to work. Some of us still have to fight bad guys, you know.”

  “Yeah. You go fight crime and I’ll go get a massage.”

  Ж Ж Ж

  Later that day, Mike struggled out of his overcoat, wincing at the pain in his shoulder as he wrenched his arm out of the heavy fabric. He stuffed his gloves and hat into the large pockets of the coat and carried the bulky package in his right arm as he entered the medical examiner’s lab. He waved at Natalie, Michelle’s Assistant M.E., who waved back with her left hand, which dripped something dark and thick before she returned her attention to a body on the steel table.

  Michelle was sitting at her desk, typing on her keyboard with a look of intense concentration. Mike stopped twenty feet away and hopped up onto a high stool next to a counter that was littered with microscope slides, Pyrex trays, and vials of liquids of various colors. He knew better than to interrupt Michelle while she was writing a report. He pulled out his phone and checked his email, which was almost all junk and administrative spam from the City of New York. He felt a wave of melancholy, remembering Jason’s dig that he was no longer doing his job and fighting crime. He hated being on leave. Before he could get too morose, Michelle called his name.

  “Detective Stoneman!”

  Mike hopped down from his perch and walked toward her. “I need to know if you are free for a lunch meeting,” he said with a serious, business-like tone.

  “Mike, nobody’s here except for Natalie. You can just say that you’re taking me out to lunch.” She smiled and waved toward Natalie, who nodded without interrupting her examination.

  “Okay by me, I’m not even a real cop at the moment.”

  “Mike, don’t say things like that.” Michelle’s face softened and she reached out and touched Mike’s hand. They had been dating for more than half a year and were regularly sharing a bed, but he still felt a tingle up his arm at her touch. He smiled and melted.

  “I’m sorry. I’m just getting itchy to get back to work.”

  “You will. You’re doing great. Get done with the PT and in ten more weeks, you’ll be back bitching about how much you hate filling out reports and sucking up to the commissioner.”

  Mike laughed and took Michelle’s hand. “I promise that I will never complain about writing reports again. I make no promises about the commissioner.” Now it was Michelle’s turn to laugh.

  After Michelle bundled up against the bitter cold wind that was whipping around lower Manhattan, they trudged without much conversation to the Chinese restaurant Mike had picked out for their lunch. They hurried through the flimsy door, grateful for the heat of the interior. After discarding their outer layers, they settled into a small table and ordered lunch specials.

  Mike and Michelle had never settled on a restaurant that was “their place.” The way eating establishments sprouted up and went out of business in New York City, they didn’t want to pick a place and then have it turn into a vegan steak house. Instead, they made it a project to go to every restaurant in Manhattan and they seldom visited the same place twice. They knew they would never get to every place, but it was fun pretending and experiencing different restaurants.

  When they had made their orders and the waiter had brought them a pot of tea, a plate of fried noodles, and a saucer of duck sauce, Mike leaned forward and said, “I need to tell you something.”

  “Me, first,” Michelle said excitedly. “I need to tell you what I’ve learned.”

  “About what?” Mike asked, happy to delay the difficult conversation.

  “I have some more information about Christine Barker.”

  “More social media posts?” Mike speculated.

  “No,” Michelle responded hesitantly, looking away from Mike as she spoke, as if the orange Koi fish swimming in the giant tank by the door of the restaurant were suddenly very interesting. “I got the information directly from Steph Barker. She called me at the office. She was really upset about her sister’s death and she needed to talk to somebody. The point is that Steph is absolutely sure that Christine would never have voluntarily taken heroin.”

  “How can she know that?” Mike asked, forgetting about being mildly pissed at Michelle for speaking to Steph Barker and potentially interfering with an ongoing police investigation.

  “First, Steph explained to me about Christine’s meth habit. She had fallen into a bad group in high school and her boyfriend, Jack, did meth and he convinced her to go to Seattle. He was apparently really bad news, but Christine couldn’t see it. But after their brother, Alex, died, Christine and Steph both swore that they would never, ever do heroin. When Christine’s boyfriend started using, she left him. That was apparently huge. She refused to see him for the destructive force that he was, but as soon as he started using the heroin, she dumped him.

  “Christine contacted Steph after she got to New York and told her that she was sick about the dark place she had been in, but she had pulled herself out of it and she was clean for two weeks. She was making plans to come home, but she had to keep the plans secret from somebody named Eddie. Steph told me that Christine was calling from somebody else’s cell phone and she had to hang up very suddenly, and that was the last Steph heard from her.”

  Mike sat quietly, trying to absorb the information. “How certain are you that Steph is being straight with you and not just giving you her own wishful thinking?”

  “Pretty sure,” Michelle said, a little bit offended by the question, as if she could be fooled by a nineteen-year-old.

  “Okay, we’ll assume all the information is accurate. What does it tell us? We know that Christine had run away from Seattle to New York, we know that she was a meth user, and we know that she was turning tricks in Queens.”

  “What?” Michelle blurted out. “When did we know that?”

  “Sorry,” Mike apologized, “we just found that out recently.”

  Michelle looked appropriately chastised. “Fine. Now I know. I wonder whether this Eddie person has something to do with that? It might explain why she had to keep her plans secret, if there was somebody pressuring her into working as a prostitute. We know she got arrested a couple times in New York, so it’s possible that she fell into that kind of situation, right?”

  “Right . . . ” Mike said slowly, thinking about several things at once.

  “So, Mike, you’ll make sure Jason and Ray get all this information, right?”

  Mike froze. “Um, well, Michelle, that’s what I needed to talk to you about. You see, Jason and Ray are not going to be actively working the case. The lead responsibility is being transferred downtown to a Vice unit. They have an undercover operation going with the prostitution ring Christine might have been caught up in, and so the captain wants
to let them handle it for now. I’ll make sure the information gets to the guys in Vice, though.” He looked at Michelle’s crestfallen expression. “I’m really sorry. I know you were interested in the case.”

  “It’s just–” Michelle started, then stopped herself. “I just feel a connection to these girls.”

  Mike reached across the table and took her hand in his. “What is it about Christine Barker?”

  Michelle took a deep breath in, then let it slowly out through her mouth. It was a relaxation technique that Mike recognized. He sat silently, waiting for her to be ready to speak. “You once asked me why I never got married, and I never told you. I didn’t want to scare you away.”

  “Hey,” Mike said, squeezing her hand comfortingly. “You have to know by now that I’m pretty hard to scare.”

  “I know,” she said softly. She took another deep breath, then started talking quickly, as if she wanted to get it all out at once. “When I was in college, I had a steady boyfriend. He never actually asked me to marry him, but I thought that’s where we were heading. His name was Dwayne, and he had a sister named Veronica. She was a few years younger and we became close. Dwayne graduated a year ahead of me and while I was prepping for my med school boards, he was foundering. He was a musician, but he couldn’t get any good paying gigs, so he was waiting tables and playing in a band on weekends.

  “He had always smoked some pot. I did too, back then. But he started doing some harder stuff. We started fighting about it. I wanted him to stop, but he either couldn’t, or wouldn’t. What was worse was that he got Veronica doing it. They did cocaine and amphetamines and then he started free-basing with coke and heroin. It was awful. I couldn’t get him to stop, and I was trying to study and then – then he hit me.” Michelle wiped away a tear.