Never the Crime

by Colin Conway

  She turned fully toward Garrett now, her hands still in her pockets. Normally, he would ask someone he was talking with to remove their hands from their pockets, but he didn’t fear the girl. By the look on her face, it was clear she feared him, though. She remained perfectly still as he approached.

  When he was close, he could see she had a circular barbell nose ring and her left eyebrow was pieced with two rings.

  “Ikuko, right?”

  “What happened in there?” she asked, looking around him toward the house.

  “Are you friends with Bethany Rabe?”

  “Betty.”

  “Betty? Is that what she went by?”

  Ikuko nodded.

  “You were friends through, what, school?”

  “And the neighborhood. I live over there.” She pointed at her house. “We’re in some of the same classes. She okay?”

  Garrett looked back toward the house. “No. No, she’s not.”

  “What happened?”

  He studied the small girl. “Was she having problems at school?”

  “Same as everyone. Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”

  “Was she seeing anyone?”

  Ikuko’s eyes widened. “I should go.”

  “Why was Betty talking with the cops?”

  The girl turned and started walking. Garrett fell into step with her.

  “I’m not going to let this go, Ikuko. You need to talk with me.”

  “Leave me alone. I can’t be seen talking with you.”

  “Why not? If you keep walking, I’ll follow you up to your house and talk with your parents.”

  She spun around. “You wouldn’t.”

  “I would. I’m that kind of guy.”

  She pointed at Betty’s house. “Tell me what happened to Betty!”

  “She killed herself.”

  Ikuko’s face widened. “Oh my God. She didn’t.”

  “Yeah, she did.”

  “Oh, man.” Ikuko spun in a circle. “Oh, man.”

  “Talk to me.”

  “I didn’t think she would really do it.”

  “She talked about it?”

  Ikuko lifted her hands to her head. “This is my fault. I should have said something. Oh God, I should have done something.”

  “It’s not your fault. She did it to herself.”

  “How do you know?” Ikuko said, stepping toward Garrett. She moved her hands wildly as she spoke. “How do you really know? Maybe someone did it to make it look like a suicide. That happens, right?”

  “Not very often.”

  “But sometimes it does.” Ikuko’s gaze was frantic.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because that’s what they do.”

  “That’s what who does? Who is they?”

  “Men in power.”

  “What men? What men in power did Betty know?”

  Ikuko suddenly looked frightened.

  “Was that why she was talking with the cops? Was someone threatening her?”

  She pointed to Betty’s house again. “That could happen to me.”

  “Nothing is going to happen to you, Ikuko. Tell me what I need to know.”

  Ikuko started to turn, but Garrett grabbed her by the coat sleeve. Her eyes locked onto his hand. She tried to pull free, but Garrett held her in place.

  “They’ll kill me if I talk with you. I know it. I’ve seen the TV shows. That’s what happens. It always happens.”

  “Enough!” Garrett snapped. “Your friend is dead. Tell me what was going on.”

  She again tried to yank free, but Garrett jerked her arm which caused her to stumble into him.

  “Tell me,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “I’m not fucking around.”

  Ikuko blinked several times. “You can’t talk to me like that.”

  “I just did.”

  She stared at Garrett.

  “Tell me or I make a big stink about you knowing Betty. I’ll tell everyone how you helped me. I’ll write your name in big letters on my reports. Everyone will know who you are and where you live.”

  “You can’t!”

  “You want to stay out of it?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Then tell me what was going on with Betty.” Garrett tugged on the sleeve of her coat. “Now.”

  “She was messing around with some politician.”

  “A politician?”

  “Yeah. A congressman.”

  Garrett straightened. “A congressman?”

  “You know, the city congress. The guys that work with the mayor.”

  “You mean the city council?”

  “Sure, that’s what it was.”

  “Your friend was hooking up with a councilman?”

  “Yeah.”

  Garrett studied Ikuko’s face. “She was seventeen.”

  “So? That doesn’t mean she can’t have sex.”

  “Who? Who was she seeing?”

  Ikuko looked around, her eyes scared. Tears streamed down her face now. “She never told me his name.”

  Garrett yanked Ikuko’s sleeve, jerking her closer to him. “Quit fucking around, kid. This is serious.”

  Ikuko looked up and down the street. “If they’re watching, I’m already dead.”

  “Don’t be stupid. No one is going to hurt you. Just gimme a name.” Garrett wrapped his fingers around her wrist for emphasis.

  “She only called him Denny. That’s all I know. I swear.”

  He nodded. There was only one councilman who could fit that nickname. Dennis Hahn.

  “Can I go now? Please!”

  Garrett released her wrist. Ikuko immediately flipped up the hood on the parka and sprinted toward her house. She ran around the side of the house and disappeared.

  He walked back toward the Rabe home but stopped before getting there. Garrett pulled the business card from his notebook and stared at it.

  What did Officer Gary Stone and Councilman Dennis Hahn have in common? A dead seventeen-year-old.

  He was going to have to do some additional work on this case.

  THURSDAY

  The essence of lying is in deception, not in words.

  —John Ruskin, English writer and artist

  CHAPTER 18

  “Is the chief in?”

  Marilyn looked up from her computer. “You’re not on his schedule. Is he expecting you?”

  Stone rubbed his face in frustration. “No, but he’ll want to see me.”

  “He has a meeting with Captain Farrell in five minutes. He doesn’t have time for you, Officer Stone. Set an appointment.”

  “Tell him it’s about the report he asked me to handwrite. Be specific about that. He’ll want to see me then.”

  Marilyn studied him for a moment before lifting her telephone and buzzing the chief. Stone couldn’t hear whatever Baumgartner was saying but Marilyn didn’t try to hide her side of the conversation.

  “Chief, Officer Stone is here to see you. Yes. Uh-huh. I told him you were busy. That’s right. Yes. Well, he said it was about the report you asked him to handwrite. Yes, sir. Right away.”

  She hung up the phone and turned to Stone, curiosity now in her eyes. “You can go in.”

  Stone hurried past her desk, through the little waiting room, and into the chief’s office. He shut the door behind him.

  Chief Baumgartner sat in his chair with only his socks on. His shoes were on his desk sitting on a couple pieces of white paper. He was in the process of shining them.

  “Make it fast, Gary. I’ve got a meeting scheduled.”

  The chief picked up a shoe and buffed a brush across the toe.

  “The mayor was all over me last night about the Hahn investigation. He was pushing hard to know what was going on.”

  The chief turned the shoe and continued buffing, not bothering to look at Stone. “And?”

  “I wanted to let you kno
w. I mean, he was pushing pretty hard.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “Nothing.”

  Baumgartner dropped the shoe on the desk and lifted the other. He immediately began buffing it. “How did he take it when you didn’t spill?”

  “Fine,” Stone lied. As soon as the word tumbled out of his mouth, he wondered why he said it.

  The chief stopped buffing and looked at Stone. “He took it fine?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Shit, Stone thought. The first lie had already led to a second.

  “I would have thought for sure he would have been pissed.” Baumgartner leaned back in his chair, one shoe in his left hand and the buffing brush in his right. His stocking feet moved back and forth on the carpet as he thought. “He’s up to something. He’s slow-playing this. Be careful, Gary. Sooner or later, he’s going to come to you and ask that you keep tabs on things here in the department. When he does that, you let me know, okay?”

  Stone remained silent, because he was afraid anything he said would be another lie.

  “Yeah,” Baumgartner muttered, swiping the brush across the shoe leather, “that slippery son of a bitch is up to something.”

  “I won’t say anything, Chief.”

  Baumgartner pointed his shoe at Stone. “That’s good, Gary. Keep it that way. Don’t tell him squat. I’ll tell him what he needs to know.”

  CHAPTER 19

  The morning rain pelted Margaret Patterson’s car as she packed her things, readying herself for the run from the parking lot to the lobby of city hall.

  She took a final swig of coffee and put the cup back in its holder. Her phone, car keys, and reading glasses were tossed inside her purse. She grabbed the newspaper and reread the headline: Councilman Armstrong Accused of Kickbacks, Peddling Influence.

  It keeps getting better. Another councilman, Patrick Armstrong, was being called out for unprofessional conduct; this time outright illegal actions.

  She opened her car door, slung her purse over her shoulder, and slipped out. Using the newspaper as an improvised umbrella, she held it above her head. She pushed her door closed with her hip, then hurried to the front entrance of the building.

  A young man, a worker she’d seen somewhere before in the building, held the door open as she approached.

  “Thank you,” she said as she hurried past him.

  She stopped just inside the building and flung water off the newspaper. It was probably ruined but she didn’t want to toss the paper until she could make a copy of the Armstrong article.

  On the sixth floor, she quickly walked to her assistant, Devan Bollman, who sat outside her office. She handed him the wet newspaper. Devan’s lip curled as he held the dripping paper away from him. Just out of college, Devan was a slight man with gelled hair and a small hoop in each earlobe.

  “Don’t be a wuss, Devan. It’s only water,” she said and flicked the paper with her finger. “Make a copy of that article. Then throw it away. Put the copy on my desk. Got it?”

  “You can just go on the internet and read it there.”

  Patterson blinked several times before saying, “What did you say?”

  “You can—”

  “Oh, I heard you, Devan,” Patterson said. “I’m wondering why you think you could say that to me?”

  “Well, I didn’t—”

  “I know you’re not foolish enough to talk to me that way because I’m a woman.”

  Devan’s eyes widened. “No, ma’am. I would never.”

  “Then is it because you think I’m stupid?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Is it because you’re stupid? I’m running out of options here.”

  “No, what I was saying is that the paper is wet,” Devan said, crinkling his nose. “You can just as easily get it off the internet.”

  “Who sits in there?” Patterson asked, pointing to her office.

  “You do,” Devan said.

  “And your job is what?”

  Devan stared at her.

  She pointed at her office a second time. “I sit in there and you sit out here. You’re supposed to do what, Devan?” Her voice was raising, and Devan was noticeably uncomfortable.

  “Assist you.”

  “You’re supposed to assist me. Huh. You think you’re doing that? Me neither. Okay, let’s start again. What did I ask you to do?”

  Devan looked down. “Make a copy of this article.”

  “And?”

  “Put it on your desk when I’m done.”

  “Now, you’re learning.”

  Patterson stepped into her office and set her purse on the desk, then spun around and left, without looking at Devan. She hurried toward Councilman Hahn’s office. His office door was shut, but she could see him through the glass. He was on the phone. Patterson paused at the desk of his assistant, Jean Carter.

  “Who’s he on the phone with?”

  Jean looked up at her. “I don’t know, ma’am. Maybe a personal call.”

  Patterson stepped to the door and made eye contact with Hahn through the small window. He lifted a finger in a just a minute signal. She looked at the clock on the wall in his office. It was half past eight. The morning was quickly slipping away.

  She opened the door and stepped into the office.

  “Hold on,” Hahn said, slightly irritated, and covered the telephone’s receiver. “What is it, Maggie?”

  “Did you see the article on Patrick?”

  Hahn rolled his eyes. “Yeah.”

  “Then get off the phone. We need to game plan.”

  “This is my wife. She’s planning a parent-teacher conference.”

  Patterson put a hand on her hip. “Are you kidding? She doesn’t need you to plan it. We’ve got more important things to do.”

  Hahn watched Patterson for a moment further, then said into the phone. “Go ahead and pick a date. Then text me what you chose, and I’ll have Jean put it on my schedule. Uh-huh. Yeah. I’ve got to go. Okay. Bye.” When he hung up the phone, he turned to Patterson, “Okay, what’s so—”

  “Seriously, Denny? How are you not freaking out about this?”

  Hahn leaned back in his chair. “It’s an accusation. Nothing has been proven yet.”

  “According to the paper, HR has been actively investigating Patrick for months. Depending on what they find, we might have the police crawling around down here. Did you know about this? Because I sure as hell didn’t.”

  “No, of course I didn’t know.”

  “Who do you think the leaker was?” Patterson turned to look out the window of Hahn’s office. She surveyed the other council members and their assistants. “Think it might have been Buckner? That sneaky prick might have leaked it to throw the press off his trail.”

  “If Buckner knew about it, we would have known about it.”

  Patterson looked over her shoulder to meet Hahn’s gaze. “Good point.” She turned her attention back out the office window. “What about the assistants? Think one of them could have heard about the investigation and spilled it to the papers?”

  “Not Jean. If she knew something, she would have told me, and she would have kept it quiet. She’s a professional.”

  Patterson eyed Jean. “Yeah, she’s good.” Then her gaze slid over to Devan who stood at the photo copier. “I can’t say the same for boy blunder.”

  “You don’t like your new assistant?”

  She turned around and crossed her arms. “You’re missing the point. If what the paper is saying is true, Patrick’s got a serious problem.”

  “Let’s wait and see what happens.”

  “No, let’s strike. Now!” She clapped her hands in emphasis. “Listen. He’s an asshole. He’s always been an asshole. Now he’s an asshole who’s taking money under the table and selling his vote. It’s corrupt, and it makes us all look bad. That’s why I want my pound of flesh now.”

  “I think maybe we should let thi
ngs run their course.”

  “And waste this opportunity?” She shook her head. “No way. Justin’s part of it, too. Both of those knuckleheads need to be taken down and we should lead the charge. If there’s blood in the water, let’s join the fuckin’ feeding frenzy.” Patterson rubbed her hands together and laughed theatrically.

  It was then she noticed how red Hahn’s face had become.

  “What’s wrong, Denny?”

  “Nothing?”

  “You look like, something, I don’t know. Did I make you mad? You gonna get sick?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Oh, shit. It’s the cursing, isn’t it? I’m sorry, Denny. I’ll watch it next time. You know me. That’s just how I was raised. Even my grandmother swore when she got excited.”

  He waved it off. “It’s okay. Really.”

  “Regardless, I’m sorry for cursing around you. I’ll watch it next time. Okay?”

  Hahn nodded. “I’d appreciate it.”

  “So, here’s what I’m going to do,” Patterson said. “As soon as I leave here, I’m going to the mayor’s office and try to get some face time with the mad king. Then I’m going to get some intel from Human Resources. If I can’t, I want to use Jean to talk to the HR assistants.”

  “Jean?”

  “Yeah, Jean.”

  “Why my assistant and not yours?”

  They looked over to Devan who still stood at the copy machine. The wet newspaper in his hands was disintegrating. He looked up at the ceiling and lifted his arms in frustration.

  “Do I need to say more?” Patterson said.

  “Fine. I’ll authorize her to work with you.”

  “You sure you’re okay? Maybe you’re coming down with something.”

  Hahn inhaled deeply. “Yeah, maybe.”

  “Well, stay back then. I don’t want to catch what you’ve got.”

  Hahn’s smile was weak.

  “So, it’s settled. We’re going to get what we can on Patrick. Then we make a plan and go after him and Justin.”

  Hahn nodded. “Armstrong and Buckner.”

  “Should have been a cleaning brand,” she said. “Anyway, we take those fuckers down, sorry, mea culpa. We help take those two down, we’ll establish ourselves as the ‘Keep City Hall Clean’ reformers, know what I mean?” She spread her arms wide across the air to accentuate the idea.