“Don’t joke about it or I might make us do it.”
“That will be hard since you can’t drive.”
“You’re a bastard.”
“I know. Until you get cleared, I’ve got the keys and we go only where I drive us.”
“We could take the subway.”
Jason paused. “I don’t think the captain would want you to be that exposed. You might fall down the stairs and dislocate your shoulder.” Jason reached over and planted a soft punch on Mike’s left arm.
“Ow,” Mike protested. “Be gentle with a cripple.”
“You’re such a bullshitter,” Jason scolded. “I saw you carry that file box into the room with your left arm. I know you’re fine.”
“Fine. I’ve still got more PT sessions, but you’re right about that. So don’t treat me like I’m broken. We need to work this just like always. I’m back, so let’s make some progress on this dog.”
“There was one thing,” Jason said, pausing to make sure Mike was focused. “I may have mentioned this to you last Friday. In the file on Christine Barker, we found a reference to an unusual interrogation. She was in the lock-up after being arrested for drug possession. Normally she’d get cut loose the same night, or maybe first thing the next morning. It was a nothing bust, with no extenuating circumstances. But she was held overnight. The next day, she was signed out of the lock-up for an interrogation. The name on the sign-out was Curran.”
“I remember.” Mike said. “I wonder how many cops there are on the force named Curran?”
“Ray said he checked and found seven,” Jason said. “The thing is, there’s no record of the interrogation. No notes, no summary of what she said about where she got the drugs. The file is empty. It looks like whoever it was wanted to lean on the girl without leaving behind a record.”
“That would mean a cop,” Mike observed.
“Yeah. I know. It would mean that somebody within the department was involved and didn’t want his involvement to be recorded.”
“We’ll need to keep an eye on that angle,” Mike said. “Were there any irregularities in the records from Christine’s prior arrests?”
“No. Nothing that stands out. But you remember I told you about the unusual circumstances of her last arrest, too. The files don’t make sense.”
“Yeah. Not much about this investigation makes sense,” Mike agreed.
Chapter 25 – Public Relations
Wednesday, March 20
THE NEXT DAY, MIKE WAS BACK in the bullpen after his PT session, still without a bagel. He was making calls to line up witness interviews in a case on which Ray McMillian had been taking lead. It was fairly routine, although Mike always said that no homicide is ever routine to the families – or the victim. In this case, the dead guy had allegedly picked a fight in a SoHo bar that had a tough reputation. He and another man ended up in the space between the bar and the adjoining building, where he fell, or was pushed or thrown, and split his head open against a fire hose stand pipe. He was dead before the EMTs arrived. Amazingly, not a single person at the scene knew who the other guy in the fight was. Mike had placed a half-dozen calls to employees of the bar and witnesses who had been identified by the officers who had responded to the scene. He was waiting for call-backs from several of them when his desk phone rang.
“Detective Stoneman,” he said in a moderately friendly tone.
“Detective! Very nice to speak with you again. This is Dexter Peacock from The Times. I know how willing you are to work with the press on important issues and I wanted to arrange a time to speak to you and Detective Dickson.”
Mike held the receiver away from his face and scowled. Mike had exploited Peacock’s willingness to be fed information during the investigation of the Righteous Assassin and had allowed the reporter to break some key facts in the story, when having those facts in the public domain was helpful. Peacock had developed an annoying sense of entitlement about calling to mine for information during the rest of that case. Mike suspected that he had been champing at the bit during Mike’s absence from active duty, waiting for his next opportunity to take advantage of the relationship he thought he had. As much as Mike would love to shut him down, there was also the possibility that he might want to use this backdoor into the press in the future. So, he resisted the urge to hang up.
“Mister Peacock,” Mike said in a friendly voice, “nice to hear from you. You know that I’m only just yesterday back on active duty, right?”
“Yes, I heard that, Detective. Very nice that you’re back earlier than expected. Was that because of the tragic death of Detective Ray McMillian?”
“I don’t think I’m going to comment about that,” Mike said as calmly as he could manage while seething.
“Well, that’s fine, Detective. But part of the reason I’m calling is that a source of mine told me that the internal investigation has cleared Detective Dickson of any negligence or wrongdoing in his partner’s death. I was hoping that, now that the investigation is over, he might be willing to give an interview and tell the story of the heroic actions of Detective McMillian. It’s a story people want to hear and, so far, we’ve been unable to get any details. Well, now that the investigation isn’t ongoing anymore, I think it’s time the real story gets told. Don’t you agree?”
Mike again removed the receiver from his ear and took a deep breath, steadying himself before responding. Mike had to hand it to Peacock; he almost believed for a second that the reporter was seriously interested in writing a positive story about a heroic cop cut down in the line of duty. Mike dismissed the idea as impossible and put the phone back to his face. “Mister Peacock, I appreciate your interest, but I don’t think Detective Dickson is going to be giving an interview about that, at least not for a while. I’d appreciate it if you would not try to contact him directly.”
“No, no, no, of course not,” Peacock soothed. “I would not do that during such a sensitive time. That’s why I called you, and I certainly appreciate your position. If you or Detective Dickson change your mind and want to get that story out, you know you can count on me to be sympathetic and supportive. And speaking of that, I’ve also been thinking about the story of your rehabilitation after your serious injury, inflicted by Ronald Randall, and your triumphant return to duty. That would also be a spectacularly interesting story that New Yorkers would love to hear. And since it seems you have been pressed back into active duty sooner than expected due to Detective McMillian’s untimely death, I see all kinds of intriguing human-interest angles here. Do you think that I might have the opportunity to speak with you about that?”
“I’m flattered, certainly,” Mike responded in what he hoped was an appropriately encouraging voice. “Right now, I’m very busy trying to get back into the duties of a detective and I really don’t want to distract myself from that process at the moment.”
“Well, I understand, Mike.”
Mike flinched and grimaced at the oily reporter’s attempt at familiarity.
“Perhaps after a few weeks back on the job you’ll be ready. I’m absolutely sure that the reading public would be fascinated to hear your story, including perhaps some of the never-before-disclosed details about your personal confrontation with the Righteous Assassin.”
Mike wondered if Peacock actually believed his own bullshit, because he was remarkably convincing. “Thanks. I appreciate the offer. I will reach out to you if I decide that the time is right.”
“Fine, fine. Thank you for your time, Detective. I’m sure we’ll be talking again soon, and you feel free to call me any time there are issues you think the public needs to know.” Peacock disconnected the call, depriving Mike of the pleasure of slamming the receiver down on him. Mike sat in his chair, staring at the handset and fuming about the conversation until the phone rang again and he punched the flashing button to answer.
“Stoneman!” he barked, then immediately apologized to the witness who was returning his call.
Later, when Mike and Jas
on were both getting a coffee refill, Mike told his partner about the call from the reporter. “I hope you don’t mind that I stonewalled him on your behalf,” Mike said.
“No. You can shut down that asshole for me anytime.”
Chapter 26 – Strange Bedfellows
Monday, March 25
THE FOLLOWING MONDAY, JASON AND MIKE went down to the basement records room to have a chat with Sophie. She was so happy to see Mike in the building that she actually got off her stool, came around the counter, and gave him a big hug.
“Careful, now, Sophie. You can’t be squeezing that shoulder too hard or I’ll never finish my rehab,” Mike scolded her playfully.
“Oh, go on, you old goat. Nothing can slow down and old mutt like you,” she said with her Jamaican accent, which Mike always thought sounded like someone who was British, but lived in New Orleans. She slapped him hard across his left arm as she finished. Mike flinched, but didn’t outwardly acknowledge the stab of pain he felt in his shoulder. He did make a mental note not to miss his next PT appointment. He had blown off the last one on the pretense that he was too busy with the transition back to active duty, but that pain made him remember that he was not fully recovered yet.
Jason took a step to get close to Sophie and asked, “Can a brother get some of that?” He gave her a hug, while turning his head and winking at Mike. When he broke away, he said, “You remember those files that Ray and I were looking for?”
Sophie’s big smile changed instantly to a somber purse. “Oh, that’s such a shame about Ray. I didn’t know him, in fact I don’t think he ever came down. But still, such a shame.”
“Thanks, Sophie. It’s a tough one.”
“How are you managing?” the older woman asked with motherly concern. Sophie felt like she was responsible for all the younger officers, but in particular she acted like a surrogate parent to the Black and Hispanic cops.
“I’m getting along fine,” Jason replied. Then he added, “Mike here has helped.”
Mike cocked his head, surprised that Jason would share that, and marveling at Sophie’s ability to get others to open up and talk to her. That’s why she was the queen of workplace gossip. “Detective Dickson is handling the situation very professionally,” Mike said.
“Well, ain’t no one ever handled losing a partner without some sleepless nights, Honey, so don’t you worry if you got some nightmares. You come down and talk to ol’ Sophie any time.”
“Thanks, Sophie. The department has a psychiatrist, but if I need somebody who really knows what they’re talking about, I’ll be sure to come down here.” He smiled warmly at Sophie, who beamed back at him as her smile returned.
“Now, what about those files?” she said as she walked back behind the counter and sat back down on her stool. She muttered something that Mike and Jason could not hear as she tapped keys at her desktop computer. “What was the day I said I put in that transfer request?” She asked Jason.
“You said it was February 19,” Jason responded. Mike and Jason stood like statues, waiting for Sophie.
“That’s so very odd,” she mumbled, reaching for her mouse and tapping additional keys. After a minute, she threw up her hands in disgust and turned toward the two waiting detectives. “I can tell you that those files are probably not coming,” she said, obviously annoyed.
“Why not?”
Sophie frowned at her computer screen. “The two files that were supposed to be in Central were signed out to archiving to be scanned into the electronic file system. Well, archives says they can’t find the files, and after archives finishes with files, they burn them so that the confidential information doesn’t get thrown in the trash where somebody could find it. So, if they say they can’t find them, we may never see them.”
“What about the other one,” Jason asked, “the one from the precinct in Queens?”
“The records clerk there said she couldn’t find the file, and that was two weeks ago. The most recent note was from three days ago, and it says that they’ve exhausted all avenues and the file is irretrievably lost.”
They all exchanged looks of frustration, but nobody offered any options. Mike thanked her and he and Jason went back up the stairs. Mike muttered something about the perils of undue reliance on technology. Jason just said that Mike sounded like an old fogie.
“There is another possibility,” Mike said as he climbed the first flight of steps.
“Yeah, I know,” Jason said, keeping his breathing regular despite the exertion of the climb. “It’s quite a coincidence that the files on these three allegedly unrelated overdose deaths suddenly all come up missing. It’s like somebody is hiding them and covering their tracks, but that would mean that the people involved are inside the department.”
“Yeah,” Mike said, panting slightly and trying to suppress his heavy breathing. “That would be a problem.”
When they reached the third floor, Mike stopped at the landing to catch his breath.
Jason asked, “If these other cases were somehow related, and the perps are covering their tracks, why were we able to get Christine’s file?”
Mike drew in a deep breath before trying to speak. “Well, none of those other cases were identified as homicides.” Mike had to pause again, but then continued. “It’s possible that they just didn’t have a chance to expunge or hide Christine’s file yet.”
“So, the good news is that it’s possible to get ahead of them,” Jason said. “Now all we have to do is stay ahead of them.”
“Let’s not jump to any conclusions. There might not be any ‘them’.”
“Yeah, I know. But then again, there might be.”
Ж Ж Ж
Later in the day, Mike made a call to the sergeant in charge of the lockup at central booking in Brooklyn. The sergeant, named O’Neill, did not immediately recognize the name Curran. O’Neill speculated that it might have been someone visiting from another district. He said a lot of detectives from Manhattan came through talking to their detainees.
At the end of the discussion, Mike asked O’Neill to pull the electronic records of badge swipes in the security system for the relevant date so that they could get an ID number for the mysterious Officer Curran. O’Neill agreed, but let Mike know that since the date was more than thirty days ago, pulling the data off of the archive server would take some time. Mike thanked him and said that it was not a priority matter that required a rush on the archives. There was no need for anyone to contact Captain Sullivan to inquire about it.
Ж Ж Ж
The next day, Mike’s desk phone rang. The LED readout said “number blocked,” but he answered anyway, hoping it was not some kind of junk call. “Stoneman,” he said gruffly into the receiver.
“Detective Mike Stoneman?” the caller asked.
“Yes.”
“This is Agent Lucas Gomez, from Internal Affairs. We met a few weeks ago, when I was interviewing Detective Dickson.”
Mike paused, wondering why the IA investigator was calling him now. Was he looking for some comment about Jason? “I remember you,” Mike said warily. He did not want to engage in any small talk with this guy.
“Good. I’m calling because of a request I reviewed for information about another officer. I understand the request came from you, regarding Detective Darren Curran.”
Again, Mike paused. He had not specifically inquired about Darren – only about the identity of the cop who was signed in as Curran at the lockup. “Why do you ask?”
“Detective, any time there is a request for private data about a police officer, it gets reviewed by Internal Affairs. Can I ask why you’re seeking this data on Detective Curran?”
“I didn’t actually request information on Darren,” Mike said, trying not to show any particular emotion, although he was apprehensive. Had Gomez already checked the electronic records and determined that his old partner’s ID was used to log out the prisoner? How could that be possible? Darren had not been on active duty for eighteen months, and ce
rtainly would not have had any reason to interrogate an inconsequential detainee in Brooklyn.
“Detective Stoneman, I’m curious, really more than just a little curious, why you are looking into these records. I know that Detective Curran was your partner before his injury. I’ve looked into the case file for that matter, and it seems strange that Detective Curran would be engaged in any police activity, since he’s still out on a disability leave.”
Mike paused, trying to put together the pieces of this puzzle in his head. “Agent Gomez, I’m as confused as you are about how the record could show Darren Curran as the one who signed out this detainee. It makes no sense. I’m going to look into it, but until you just told me, I didn’t know the record was for him – I assumed that it had to be another officer named Curran.”
“Well, Detective, now you know. We’re going to have some work to do if we’re going to unravel this little mystery.”
“We?”
“Yes. You will be assisting me with my investigation,” Gomez said in a matter-of-fact voice. “I trust that will not be a problem?”
“No. No problem at all,” Mike said flatly.
“Good. In that case, please meet me tomorrow morning in my office. I find that when I show up at a precinct, silly rumors start to fly around. It’s more distraction than it’s worth.”
“Sure,” Mike agreed, “I understand that perfectly. Detective Dickson and I will meet you in the morning.”
“Fine. I look forward to working with both of you.” With that, Gomez terminated the call, leaving Mike holding his receiver and staring at it as if it were a hostile reptile.
Chapter 27 – Facing the Inevitable
Tuesday, March 26
Deadly Enterprise Page 15