"What's wrong, Gracie?" asked MacFarland as he handed her a hot dog.
Gracie looked over at Kirk, who tilted his head to stare at the pavement. "The cops beat up someone last night," she said. "Over by the Mission."
MacFarland immediately became alert. The Denver Rescue Mission should be a safe haven for homeless people. "Who got beat up?" he asked. Rufus hadn't shown up again this morning. It was not like Rufus to miss two mornings in a row. Unfortunately, MacFarland had no way of locating Rufus, other than by word of mouth through the network of homeless people. MacFarland didn't even know where Rufus' hidey-hole was; Rufus made sure no one knew where he hid, just in case the Viet Cong had spies even in friendly camps.
Kirk lifted his head to look MacFarland in the eyes. "There was two men who got beat up by the cops, Mac. One was your friend Rufus, but he was able to get away. I think the police is looking for him now. The other was Arnie Jones. Don't know if you know him. He always stays on the other side of town. He's always in trouble with the cops, on account of he tries to panhandle the baseball crowds. He got beat up real bad. They had to take him away in a ambulance."
"Christ!" said MacFarland. "Why'd the police beat them up? What were they doing?"
"They weren't doing nothing," said Gracie. "Just bein' themselves. Somthin's got to be done about the cops, Mac, but what can any of us do? We just have to stay out of sight, you know what I mean? We can't even go over to the Mission any more. That just ain't right."
As Gracie and Kirk wandered away, presumably to go someplace where they would be out of sight, MacFarland stared after them, having the disturbing realization that he had caused this to happen. It was his fault that Arnie Jones and Rufus Headley had been assaulted by the police.
Chapter 52
Friday, January 15, 1705 Hours
MacFarland closed down his cart earlier than usual and headed back to Pierson's house. He had already called her three times, leaving messages that all went to voice mail. He finally recalled that she said she would be on a stake-out that morning, and might not return home until quite late at night. In fact, she did arrive home just a minute or so after five in the afternoon. MacFarland wasted no time in confronting her.
"What have you heard about two cops beating up homeless people last night?" he demanded.
Pierson glanced at him in surprise, then put her badge and gun in the drawer where she stored them. "I haven't heard anything," she said. "Who got beat up? Who did it?"
"You haven't heard anything? Where the fuck were you all day?"
"God damn it, I was on a stake-out for a scumbag meth dealer. He never showed, so our entire trap was a waste of time and manpower. I don't know anything about what happened while I was out. Now, will you calm down and tell me what you know?"
MacFarland took several deep breaths, then sat down at the kitchen table. He realized that he was over-reacting, and he needed information, not someone to blame. "I heard that Rufus and another homeless person were detained and force was applied. It seems that Rufus escaped, but the other party resisted and may have sustained injuries. I need to find out who was hurt and who the cops were who did it."
Pierson raised her eyebrows. "Okay, Mac, I get it that you're upset and concerned. Fuck, Rufus? He would never be involved in any conflict with a cop. Certainly not intentionally. Let me get on my computer and see what I can access."
MacFarland followed her into the library and over to her computer. She logged on, then accessed the District Six website. She checked the logs for all five precincts. "There doesn't seem to be anything," she said. "No, wait a moment. Last night, at 1010 hours, there was an EMT call for an ambulance. A homeless man was found mugged around the corner from the Denver Rescue Mission."
"Who was it?" asked MacFarland.
"No identification. Description is black male, late sixties; grey hair, beard, and mustache, approximately five feet eight inches, weight one fifty-five. Wearing a brown pullover cap, dark blue coat, red shirt, jeans, and boots."
"Thank God, it isn't Rufus," breathed MacFarland. "My contacts said it might be Arnie Jones."
Pierson looked up at him, her eyes not concealing her concern. "I'll put a note in the computer to cross check against his records," she said. "We should have a positive ID by morning."
"Is there any description of the injuries he sustained?"
She started cross-checking records. "He was unconscious when the EMT team brought him in. It looks like he has a concussion, cut lip, broken nose, several lacerations on the back of his head, and at least two broken ribs."
"Is there any mention of any arresting officer?"
Pierson shook her head. "He wasn't under arrest. There’s no be-on-the-lookout for Rufus either. If someone is looking for him, it’s not official. From this, it looks like the guy in the hospital was simply mugged by some unknown party as he was heading towards the Rescue Mission. There’s no mention of Rufus or any second party."
"I don't think that's how it went down," said MacFarland. "Rufus wouldn’t stay at the Mission. He should already have been inside his hidey-hole at that hour. I think Lucas or French got to him."
"Why would they go after him?"
"Because I asked Rufus to keep an eye on them, Cyn."
"Shit, Mac, tell me you're not playing with fire here."
"Cynthia, I’m convinced that Peterson is behind the murder of Otto Freeman, and as I get closer to proving that, he is using his influence with some rotten cops to try to put a stop to it. First me, and now Rufus and Arnie."
Pierson looked at him in disbelief. She started to shut down her computer. "Mac, you have no evidence, no proof. And if you are asking these men to spy on the police, you are putting their lives at risk. I'm telling you, Mac, back off."
Chapter 53
Friday, January 15, 1830 Hours
After enduring Pierson's rant about his total lack of responsibility, MacFarland spent his time cleaning his pots, pans, and holding bins. Perhaps he washed his pots with a little more energy than he usually had, but he needed some venue for his anger. And for his disappointment with himself. What made him think that he could make a difference? Pride. It’s always my pride, my damn conceit, he thought. Where did all this arrogance come from? The reality was that he was a failure. He had always been a failure. He should have gone to college. He was smart enough. That’s what his teachers all told him. Instead, he took what he thought was the easy way out. He joined the Marines. Becoming a Marine had been pretty tough, but he actually was pretty good at being a Marine. Why did he quit, then? He had a chance to do something right with Nicole, but he had made a mess of his marriage. He let his wife drift off into the arms of another man. When that man destroyed the one good thing in his life, he did nothing to bring the bastard to justice. He just stood on the sidelines, letting other people botch the prosecution. And then he ruined his own life and career by not controlling his temper.
He should have just poisoned himself with booze. He should have stayed on the streets.
He should have just told Baker that he was just a hot dog vendor.
Pierson was right. He should back off, drop the case. Tell Baker that the lawyer needed to find someone else to help him save Maureen Freeman. Someone who was a real detective, not an arrogant son of a bitch who just got innocent people hurt. In total disgust, he knocked his pans off the counter, letting them crash onto the floor.
Pierson came back into the room, followed by Benny Lockwood. "Fuck, Mac, can't you be a little quieter? And don't destroy my fucking kitchen!"
He looked up. "Sorry, Cyn. You're right, I’ve fucked everything up. I should back off."
"Well, not so fast. After we talked, I asked Lockwood to see what he could find out about the homeless man in the hospital. Benny has tracked him down. You were right. It was Arnie Jones. We’re going to see him. Do you want to come along?"
MacFarland looked at Pierson and Lockwood in surprise. "Yeah
, I do. Why are you two going to see him?"
Pierson and Lockwood exchanged questioning looks at each other. Finally, it was Lockwood who answered. "Arnie Jones was one of Bozworth's contacts on our drug case. He's been helping us. If anything happens to him, it could affect our case too."
Pierson went to the drawer and retrieved her badge and gun. "It may not be the men who mugged you who got to Jones, Mac. It may not have been your fault that Jones got hurt. But we have a good reason to dig further, don't we? So are you coming?"
MacFarland nodded, dried his hands and grabbed his jacket.
Arnie Jones was still in Intensive Care. The physician on duty said that his condition was guarded. Jones had regained consciousness, yes, but they would only have limited time with him. Pierson and MacFarland stood on one side of the bed, Lockwood on the other. Jones became aware that they were there, then carefully looked from one person to another. When he saw MacFarland, his face took on a troubled expression. "Hi Mac," he said. "I'm sorry I let you down."
Pierson looked at MacFarland, then at Lockwood. "Mr. Jones, we need to ask you a few questions. Do you feel up to it?"
Arnie looked in her direction, then smiled. "Hi. Didn't know you was friends with Mac here."
Pierson nodded briefly. "Yes, Arnie, I know Mac. Best hot dogs in Denver. We're here to find out who did this to you. Did you recognize the person who attacked you?"
Jones tried to speak, but coughed instead. "Yeah, I know 'em. They seen me following them, and then when Rufus and me come around the corner, they jumpt us. Used their clubs on us too. Hey, what happened to Rufus? I seen him running. I tried to create, you know, a diversion, yeah, that's it, a diversion, so's Rufus can get away."
"Rufus got away," said MacFarland. "You did a good job, Arnie."
Jones tried to smile. "Good. Good. Good.” He coughed again, his face scrunched up with pain.
Pierson leaned closer, trying to get his attention. "Who attacked you, Mr. Jones? Did you recognize them?"
Arnie closed his eyes, as though he were trying to see them in his mind. "Yes'm, I recognized them. They was the man who walks that beat down there. Ossifer Lucas and his other guy."
"You're sure it was Lucas?" asked Lockwood. He spoke in a whisper to Pierson and MacFarland. “He must be talking about Lucas’ partner, Dwaine Schmidt.”
Jones turned and looked at Lockwood for the first time. "I knows who beats me up, man. You don't forget things like that. It was Ossifer Lucas."
Chapter 54
Saturday, January 16, 1000 Hours
Nobody spoke much in the car as Lockwood drove Pierson and MacFarland back to her house. MacFarland was thinking that he truly was responsible for getting Arnie Jones in the hospital. Pierson and Lockwood were clearly disappointed that this incident had interfered with their investigation. And no one was discussing the obvious elephant in the car--that Lucas and Schmidt were engaging in potentially illegal behavior. Neither Lockwood nor Pierson were assuming that the patrolmen had done anything inappropriate--there were too many variables unaccounted for to make that determination. But MacFarland noticed that they had not yet reported the incident. That did not bode well. MacFarland was surprised that Pierson didn’t insist that they call the infraction in. Was she waiting for Lockwood to suggest they report it?
Nor did MacFarland want to discuss his thoughts about the incident. He already felt like an outsider, and he knew that if he made any disparaging remarks about the two bad cops, Lockwood, and even Pierson, would turn on him. Nor was he entirely sure that the two cops hadn't acted in accordance with departmental policy regarding use of force. After all, Jones had indicated that he had tried to create a diversion to allow Rufus to escape. In MacFarland's mind, that meant that Jones had probably gone on the offensive. MacFarland could remember his days on the street. Police exhibit an attitude of authority, readiness, power--but the reality is that they always were on the lookout for something that might go wrong, for someone who might cause problems, or for someone who was on the attack.
The moment a cop didn't think like that was when the cop ended up in the hospital instead of the perp.
But no good cop would leave a man lying on the side of the street. That alone meant that procedure had been violated.
The next morning, Pierson went off to work, presumably to find out how Jones' hospitalization affected her case. She didn’t mention whether she or Lockwood had reported the police involvement with the mugging. MacFarland first considered staying home, but then decided that duty--always the hot dog vendor!--called, so he dragged himself out of bed, prepared his product, and arrived at his corner only half an hour later than usual. He looked around for Rufus, but apparently Rufus, if he had shown up this morning, had already left.
At ten o'clock, MacFarland saw Rufus coming over from Colfax. Rufus wasn't carrying any coffee this morning. Well, their routine had been disrupted for the past several days.
Rufus came over and stood next to the cart. "Morning, boss," he said, his eyes downcast.
"Good morning Rufus," said MacFarland. "Are you hungry?"
"I'm always hungry, boss."
MacFarland got out a hot dog and a bun and handed it to Rufus. "I saw Arnie at the hospital last night, Rufus. I think he is going to be okay. You don't need to worry about him."
Rufus took the hot dog and started to eat it. Finally, between bites, he tried to look directly at MacFarland. "I do worry, boss. I worry about all my brothers. I shoulda known this would be dangerous, but I didn't really think it through."
MacFarland frowned and nodded slowly. "I didn't either, Rufus, and for that I'm sorry. I should have realized that if these guys would beat me up, they would beat up anyone." He had to remind himself that he didn’t know if they were, in fact, the men who beat him up. Can’t assume anything, he reminded himself.
"They're not good cops, boss. Most of you guys are okay. You treat us okay, and we understand the rules we all gotta play by. But those two are outta control, you hear me, outta control! They should be stopped."
"Do you or Arnie want to press charges?"
"Fuck no, boss! Shit, we got enough trouble without adding to it. We jus’ want it to go away. Some of my friends are saying that now the cops are watching us more close than ever. We don't want that, boss. You have to change your tactics. We can't keep walking into ambushes. The dinks will get us every time."
"I want to stop these bad men too, Rufus. I can't do it alone."
"I know that, boss, but how many casualties we gonna have?"
MacFarland suddenly found himself annoyed with Lockwood, Pierson, Rufus, Baker--everyone. All he wanted, the only thing he wanted, was to put Peterson behind bars, but everyone he encountered kept throwing roadblocks in his path. If they would just do what he asked them to do, what they were supposed to do, then everything would work out better.
"I said I'm fucking sorry, Rufus!" he exploded. "What more do you want me to do?"
Rufus took a couple of steps back, looking around to make sure there were no cops nearby who would blame him for the outburst. "Nothin' boss, nothin' at all. Just don't want nobody else hurt."
MacFarland tried, unsuccessfully, to control his anger. He spoke through clenched teeth, his hands balled into fists. "Let me tell you something, Rufus. I intend to get Peterson, even if it's the last thing I do. He killed my wife, and I will have his blood. And I frankly don't care how many people get wasted in the process!"
Rufus stood there, staring in shocked silence at his friend. "If that's the way you feel, boss, it's a good thing to know. I gotta go."
As Rufus quickly headed back towards Colfax, MacFarland stood there, thinking he had one more reason to kick himself. Why was he alienating the only true friend he had?
The answer was simple. If someone wasn’t helping him put Peterson away, then they were actually helping Peterson cement his victory.
That just was just not something MacFarland could accept.
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Chapter 55
Monday, January 18, 1150 Hours
MacFarland spent most of Sunday trying to avoid Pierson. He was disappointed in her for not reporting Lucas and Schmidt. He realized that he should just go and talk to her about his disappointment with her, but it was easier to hide in his room.
Rufus didn’t show up Monday morning. MacFarland realized that the Vietnam Vet was doing to him what he had done with Pierson. Avoidance. After nearly a morning of telling himself what a useless shit he was, MacFarland inwardly groaned as another reason to berate himself walked up to the corner.
"Good morning, Mac," said Jerry Baker, his voice ever pleasant and cheerful. "How about one of your wonderful brats for lunch today?"
MacFarland got out one of the brats, not sure how wonderful it was, and placed it in a warmed bun. Handing it to Baker, he couldn't help but notice that behind the cheery disposition, Baker looked tired, his eyes bloodshot, and his expression strained. "Something up, Jerry?" he asked.
Baker sighed, then busied himself putting condiments on his bratwurst. "There are times when I envy you your lifestyle, Mac. I wish all I had to do was stand out here, listening to music and serving hot dogs."
MacFarland didn't bother telling Baker that he didn't listen to music, but rather tried to improve himself by learning foreign languages. Hell, for all the good it did him, he might as well listen to music. When was he ever going to go to Mexico and actually use his Spanish? He thought about telling Baker to just go to hell, but instead he decided that the man probably would get there soon enough as it was. After all, he was a lawyer, wasn't he? "What's getting you down, Jerry?"
Baker wrapped up his bratwurst as if to take it with him. "Just the case, Mac. The judge refused to grant several of my petitions. He set a court date for February 22. I have only a month to find some way to get the case thrown out."
The Avid Angler - The Hot Dog Detective (A Denver Detective Cozy Mystery) Page 16
