Hard Case

by Kylie Dodson

  ***

  The precinct was quiet except for the yelling that was coming from Captain McGhee's office.

  Jennifer tread carefully toward her desk. She could see that Blake was in the office with McGhee but couldn't understand why the captain would be yelling at a civilian.

  She should have left her sunglasses on as a disguise attempt, because she wasn't five feet from her desk when McGhee looked up and spotted her. He was red in the face from all the yelling. His hand rose and he beckoned her in with one finger.

  Blake turned around, and even he looked scared.

  Reluctantly, Jennifer stepped into the office, closing the door behind her.

  "Sit down," McGhee said through clenched teeth.

  "What's going on, Captain--"

  "Sit down, Case." McGhee said once more.

  Jennifer did as told, trying to maintain a cool exterior.

  "I don't know if you're aware of this," McGhee started. "But if a civilian is hurt or worse while in the company of an officer, that officer is jailed for negligence. Jailed, Case."

  "Was someone hurt?"

  "Don't you play innocent here. You took Mr. Rivers on a ride-along--"

  "Under your orders."

  "On a ride-along--" McGhee spoke over her. "--to a place with a possible killer."

  "Wait, what?"

  "You even had him in the interrogation room with you. Civilians aren't allowed in the interrogation room. That's why they have two-way mirrors." His voice rose.

  She'd about had enough. "You two are the ones who want some dumb article written about me. How's he supposed to do that unless he tags along on things?"

  "From a distance, Case. A safe distance. That's why I didn't want you running this murder stuff. If you do find the suspect and they have a weapon, they could hurt your ride-along. You get that, right?"

  "Why are you so bent out of shape--"

  "Watch it!"

  Jennifer restructured her thoughts. "Why is this a problem now? You told me I could work the thing. That would mean that Blake would have to be there, too." Feeling betrayed, she switched her glare to Blake.

  "I didn't even say anything," Blake said. "We were just talking about you and...I mean, it just came out."

  "Just came out?" Jennifer asked.

  "It's not like I was in here telling on you."

  "I don't care how I know about all of this," McGhee interrupted. He rubbed his hand over his short but thinning hair. "Case, I know I told you that you could run this thing. But now that I know you're working two murder cases, I want you off both."

  Anger gut-punched her. "What? You can't--"

  "Captain McGhee, that's--" Blake started.

  "I don't want to hear it. From either of you. I said you're off. You want to get to the bottom of who Jennifer Case is, Mr. Rivers, you'll do it the way I wanted you to, before.

  Beat cop stuff. Light domestic disputes, cats out of trees--that sort of thing. If I hear you dealing with anything more than a fender bender...It's your badge, Jen."

  "Fine," Jennifer said. "I'm off the serial killer. What about Kimberly Gamble?"

  "I said both."

  Jennifer stared at McGhee. Her eyes were starting to well up. But it wasn't from sorrow. It was from anger. She didn't like being limited. And she definitely didn't like being told on. Unintentionally or not.

  "Taggart will take over your files on both cases," McGhee continued.

  "Taggart's working another homicide," she said, biting back how she really felt. "It might actually be related to Kimberly Gamble."

  "Really?" Blake asked with great interest.

  Jennifer ignored his question. With so many murder cases going on, she felt if best not to add Blake's to the mix. Despite how much she wanted to murder him at that moment.

  "Then it's perfect," McGhee said. "It sounds like he's already involved. Give him the files. He, Jamal, and Amber will deal with all of it."

  Jennifer held her gaze on the captain for just a bit longer. He returned her stare, silently daring her to say more on the matter.

  "Fine," Jennifer said. "Can I go, now? I'm sure there are traffic citations to hand out."

  McGhee sat in his chair and waved her off. Whipping around, she stomped out of his office with Blake on her heels.

  Outside of the captain's office, Blake slowed down and kept some distance from Jennifer as she made her way to her desk. "So, we're not actually giving all of this to

  Taggart, are we?" he asked with some trepidation.

  "Of course we are," Jennifer said sarcastically. "Because I'm a good cop who does as she's told. Don't you know? I always follow orders, Mr. Rivers."

  Blake smiled. "That's what I thought. So, Jordan was killed, huh?"

  "It wasn't a joke, Rivers. I'm going to do exactly as I was told. And do you know why? Because I like my job. And I'm good at my job. And I want to continue doing my job. Which isn't carting some writer around all day, looking into husbands and wives having arguments in their front yards. Or tracking down some jerk who commits a hit-and-run. I'm a homicide detective. That's what I do. And I've put in a lot of time and effort into getting to this point. I'm not going to let some...journalist who thinks he knows better cost me my job. So, yeah, I'm passing all of that--" She pointed to the conference room with the clue-filled white board. "--to Taggart so he can do my job for me. Then I'm going to take you, safely, through town, answering only the tamest of dispatch calls. You are going to write whatever it is you're going to regarding those calls and my behavior on them. And then you and I will part ways, never to see or speak to each other again. That work for you, Mr. Rivers?"

  Blake's gaze moved around the bullpen at the officers who were staring at them. Jennifer didn't seem to care. But the feeling of embarrassment was growing on him. Not to mention the notion of what those officers might do in Jennifer's defense.

  Jamal cautiously made his way toward her desk. "Case? You OK?"

  "I'm fine. Me and Mr. Investigation have some parking tickets to pass out. You guys are on the murders with Taggart."

  "Wait, you're off them?" Amber asked. "All of them?"

  "All of them." Her phone buzzed in her pocket and Jennifer pulled it out. She didn't recognize the number. "This is Detective Case."

  "That is not the same lovely voice that visited me earlier."

  "Mr. Carver?"

  "Must we use such formality?"

  Jennifer took a breath.

  "You are troubled, my dear."

  "Yeah. Something like that. Wait, how did you get this number—Never mind. How can I help you, Lionel?"

  "Another visit soon, perhaps? Yours is a mind I would very much like to decipher. However, in this instance, I believe it is I who am helping you? You will forgive that I looked up your phone number of my own volition."

  "Lionel?" Blake mouthed the words. He glanced at McGhee's office as if afraid the captain would come out and know who Jennifer was talking to.

  "Go on," Jennifer said.

  "I have spoken to a few--well, I suppose they're colleagues. You'll understand if I keep their names to myself." It was a statement and not a question. "Their suppositions have led me to a simple conclusion."

  "What is that?"

  "A soldier does not choose to go to war."

  "Lionel, I am really not in the mood for more riddles. I can't--Hello?" She lowered her phone and saw the [Call Ended] message.

  "He does that, sometimes," Blake said. "What did he want?"

  "I'm not sure." Jennifer stared at the home screen of her phone. She let Lionel's words repeat in her head. "But I may want to try something."

  CHAPTER 19

  Jennifer sat at her desk with a notepad and pen in hand. "What do you think Driscoll is actually worth?"

  "A billion, at least," Amber said.

  "His company may be worth a billion," Jamal replied. "He's probably just over a hundred million."

  Jennifer wrote both notions down while Blake scrolled through his phone.

/>   "Got it," Blake said, turning his phone screen to face the detectives. "Nathan Driscoll's net value is in the range of two-hundred-million dollars."

  Amber whistled. "I know that's less than a billion, but that's still a ton of money. What's someone do with that much?"

  "Anything they want, if you ask me," Jamal told her.

  "And they can probably afford to get away with it, too," Jennifer added.

  "Sure," Jamal said. "There's at least three lawyers just crooked enough to lie in court for the right price."

  "I'd say two hundred million is the right price," Blake said.

  "Depends on the crime."

  "What about murder?" Amber asked.

  "That's the question isn't it?" Jennifer told her.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, let's say--" Jennifer took a casual glance at Captain McGhee's office before returning to her thoughts. "Let's say, just for kicks, that Driscoll is responsible for these murders. He's got enough money, he could probably sweep anything under the rug. But something like that doesn't happen by a check or money order."

  "That would be a cash only transaction," Blake added. "Untraceable."

  Jennifer looked at him, not quite ready to forgive, but at least ready to set aside. "Not entirely. Amber, can you find out who Driscoll's personal banker is? Anyone with that much money definitely has one. Find out if there have been any odd money moves."

  "Odd, like, how?"

  "Uncommon cash withdrawals."

  "Got it." Amber took out her phone and made her way to her own desk.

  "What if she comes back with nothing?" Blake asked.

  "Then we're going to go find traffic violators. Until then, I want one more talk with Pluckus."

  ***

  Pluckus scratched at his bald head then sniffed at his clothes. A goofy smile crossed his face, as if he liked the scent.

  Jennifer tried to breathe through her mouth to keep as much of the horrid smell away from her nostrils as she could. As bad as the odor was, she felt a sadistic twinge of pleasure at the thought of Pluckus being in a small holding pen with other law breakers. She figured that the other prisoners would think twice before committing another crime. No one wanted to be in any cramped space with Pluckus.

  She slid the photo of Kimberly Gamble in front of the creepy guy. "Do you recognize her?"

  "Pretty. Always so pretty in sleep," Pluckus said.

  "She's not sleeping, Pluckus. She's dead. And I've been told that you killed her."

  "Night-night. Sleep tight. Bed bugs have a buffet."

  "Her parents are devastated that their little girl is gone. Don't you feel any remorse for them?"

  "I have parents somewhere. I remember they used to tuck me in at night. But then, one day, they got mad. Threw me out. Told me to take my needles with me. Now I have no place to hide my needles."

  If there was any doubt as to the reason for Pluckus' psychosis, there wasn't anymore. Cassidy called this one right. Drug-addled brain.

  Jennifer glanced at the two-way mirror, worried about whether or not McGhee could be on the other side. Though, if he was, she reasoned he would have pulled her out by now. Either that or he was waiting to hear a possible confession. That might be good. If she could pull that from Pluckus, and McGhee heard it, he might pull off the threat of firing her. And let her continue with the murder investigations.

  Unfortunately, her strategy of making Pluckus feel guilt wasn't working. She decided to switch things up. To trade emotion for logic.

  "I need to get a lotto ticket," she said.

  "Thirty-two-million," Pluckus replied.

  She didn't know if he was good with numbers or just interested in money.

  "Is that what it's up to, now? That's a lot of zeroes," Jennifer went on. "But do you know what's got even more zeroes?"

  "Three-hundred and twenty-million."

  "That's right."

  Pluckus stared at her with great interest. He was like a puppy that was about to fetch a ball.

  "But I have a feeling that a million is not your favorite number."

  Pluckus violently shook his head.

  "Pluckus, what's your favorite number?"

  He continued to shake his head.

  "I'll bet it's a really good one."

  More shaking.

  "I like that hoodie. How much do you want for it?"

  Pluckus suddenly vaulted his feet onto the steel chair he sat on and started thrusting his pelvis in and out. "Twelve and sixty-five! Twelve and sixty-five!"

  Jennifer took one step back, unsure what the creepy bald guy was going to do next.

  "What else will you do for twelve and sixty-five?"

  "The sky is the limit. The limit. The fancy man gave me twelve and sixty-five for it. A good day's pay for a good day's work."

  "Who's the fancy man, Pluckus? What did he want you to do?"

  "Put the pretty girl to sleep. Make her all pretty."

  It wasn't a full-blown confession, but it did tell Jennifer that Pluckus had a connection to Kimberly Gamble. Jordan was right to suspect him. Now all she needed was one last piece of information and she would have the one responsible for Kim's death.

  ***

  Jennifer stopped at Amber's desk. "You get through?"

  "I had to leave a message."

  "That's fine. Hopefully they call back before we get to Driscoll."

  "You're going back to Driscoll? But I thought that was a dead end."

  Jennifer ignored Amber's comment. "Call me as soon as you hear anything. Rivers."

  Blake's head shot up from where he'd rested it on Jennifer's desk.

  "You and Jamal are with me."

  "Where are we going?"

  "Got a domestic dispute."

  Blake sighed as he stood up. "We're really doing that, eh?"

  Jennifer's eyes widened. "It's a really bad dispute."

  Blake thought about her words for a second. "Oh. Oh, right." He looked back at McGhee's office. "I thought I heard that on the wire." Joining her, he gave her a wink.

  Jennifer shook her head subtly then made her way to the door.

  CHAPTER 20

  Blake Rivers sat, arms crossed, in the back of Jennifer's Impala. She noticed him in the rearview mirror. He looked like someone just grounded from playing outside. As immature as it appeared, it was more humorous than pathetic.

  "What's wrong, Rivers? You don't like the back seat?" she asked.

  Blake leaned forward, sticking his head between the driver and passenger seats, where Jamal's broad shoulders stuck out a ways.

  "Why didn't you let me hear the confession?" Blake asked.

  "That's what's crawled up your pants? You didn't get to hear what Pluckus told me?"

  "Yeah."

  "Well, maybe if you hadn't let things slip to the captain, you would have."

  "Look, that was an accident. I didn't mean to. And I sure didn't know he was going to react that way."

  "Well, maybe next time, you'll think before you speak. That's how you write an article, right? You think about it, first?"

  "OK. I get it."

  Jennifer smiled in her victory. "Besides, Pluckus didn't confess anything. Not entirely."

  "Then why are we heading to Driscoll’s?”

  "Because Pluckus said something that gave me an idea. Maybe the final puzzle piece."

  "Nathan Driscoll isn't a serial killer."

  "Probably not. But this isn't about that case. It's about Kimberly Gamble."

  "He didn't do that either. I was at Riptide that night, remember?"

  "That's right. The same night Kimberly Gamble was murdered. But if you don't think he did it, Detective Rivers, then who did?"

  “You sure you want me to do your job?"

  Jennifer snickered. "You haven't done my job yet. What have you got?"

  "Pluckus did it. That's a fact. But he didn't do it because he wanted to. He was paid to do it."

  "Who paid him?" Jamal asked.

  "Jordan," B
lake said matter-of-factly.

  The two officers up front glanced at each other.

  "Jordan as in dead Jordan?" Jennifer asked.

  "Huh?" Blake's head swiveled toward her. "When did that happen?"

  "I found out this morning. He was found stabbed to death in the park. Not a bad theory, but guess again."

  "Well, did I get the Pluckus part right?"

  "I think you did. So you're close, but not quite there."

  Blake worked his shoulder into the space between the seats, getting more of himself in front. Jamal did little to help but Blake managed.

  "What are you--?" Jennifer asked.

  "What happened?" Blake whispered.

  "When?" Jennifer asked, sensing he was no longer talking about the case.

  "I mean, the other night. Ever since then, you've had me at arm's length. I thought we were going toward a good place."

  "Define good place."

  "You know, a good--" He turned to look at Jamal who stared out the window. Blake wasn't sure if the big man was truly oblivious to them or if he was just pretending to be. He turned back to Jennifer. "Come on, Case. We shared a moment and you know it."

  "What I know is that I am now at risk of losing my job because of you. Not a risk of suspension. Not an risk of transfer. Risk of job loss."

  Blake looked forward out the windshield, pondering his next words.

  "Now, if you don't sit back and put your seat belt on, I'm going to fine you," Jennifer said.

  He turned to her again, gauging whether or not she was serious.

  "Even detectives carry citation booklets," she told him.

  Blake turned back to Jamal who fanned himself with his own citation booklet. The big man wasn't oblivious at all.

  "Fine," Blake said, "But I'm not done with this conversation." He moved back to his seat and fastened his seatbelt.