Crime Beat Girl

by Geri L Dreiling

"It's from Parker. She says that I should contact the mayor's office to lean on the police department to see if I can do ride-alongs for the bait car sting the SLMPD is planning."

  "What are you waiting for?" Sam asked.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Bait Car

  It had taken Debbie longer than usual to get dressed. This was, after all, the first time she'd been invited to a ride-along with the police. And she hadn't had much time to prepare. She'd only just started trading texts with the SLMPD's press contact the day before, when she learned that the bait car experiment was already planned for the following day.

  As she stood in front of her closet, Debbie pondered the weather. The outside temperature had been hovering above ninety degrees Fahrenheit for days. The air was thick with moisture, making it even difficult to breathe. She'd always blamed the oppressive humidity on the fact that St. Louis was a city stuck between two mighty rivers, the Mississippi and the Missouri. And when pollution was mixed in with the moist air, physical exertion in the afternoon was a challenge for even the most healthy.

  Debbie didn't plan on doing any running during the stakeout, but then again, it was probably wise to plan for every contingency.

  The reporter made her way down to the kitchen. "What do you think?" she asked her mom.

  Beth, wearing a navy pencil skirt, a cream-colored blouse, and a matching jacket, looked nothing like a recovering surgery patient. Which was exactly the message the lawyer wanted to communicate.

  "What do I think about what?" Beth asked.

  "My clothes. Do you think I'm dressed to hang out with the cops?"

  Beth looked at her daughter from head to toe. Blue jeans, a short-sleeved polo, and Converse sneakers, hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. "You look presentable."

  "Really?"

  Beth shrugged. "Well, you do resemble a college kid who gives campus tours."

  "Thanks," Debbie replied.

  "If you were wearing khakis, I might say camp counselor." Beth waved her hand as Debbie grimaced. "Oh, come on. I'm just joking. You're overthinking this. Really, you look fine."

  Beth took a sip of coffee before saying what was really on her mind: "Do I need to worry about you today?"

  "Are you kidding? The police made it very clear that I'm going to be a distant observer. I don't get to be in the center of the action. The city's lawyers keep mentioning liability."

  "Thank goodness for the lawyers," Beth said. "Folks with some sense. And with the series of unfortunate encounters you've had lately, I'd say that they're probably also worried about their officers becoming collateral damage. I don't know that it is too safe for them to be around you."

  Debbie sighed. "Perhaps. By the way, how are you feeling?"

  "Really good," Beth said with a smile. "I'm trying to ignore the fact that I'll get the verdict about chemotherapy this week. The oncologist said the medical review committee would be looking at my file and making a recommendation. I really don't want to have to go through chemo."

  "I know. I don't want you to have to go through it either," Debbie said.

  Debbie parked her rental car in the St. Louis Metropolitan Police Department's North Patrol lot. She spotted Officer Parker near the front entrance with Flannery.

  Flannery nodded as Debbie approached. "How'd you manage to get an invitation to this shindig today?"

  "I think the mayor leaned on the police chief," Debbie lied.

  Flannery shook his head. "When it comes to women, the mayor is easily charmed."

  Officer Parker coughed. Debbie ignored the jab.

  "Well, how will this work?" Debbie asked.

  "We have a specially outfitted SUV," Flannery explained. "It's an older model. We'll park it in an area where we've seen a spike in car thefts. We'll leave a purse on the passenger seat. The keys will be inside."

  "Isn't that entrapment?" Debbie asked.

  "No." Flannery shook his head vigorously. "We are just providing the opportunity for criminals. We're not encouraging them to do something that they wouldn't have already done."

  Debbie opened her notebook and scribbled a few lines. "I see," she said.

  Flannery continued. "The car doors lock once the bad guys get inside and only we can let them out. They'll be able to start the car, but they won't get too far. We've got a kill switch that allows us to turn off the motor. We'll surround the car and then nab our joyriding thieves."

  "Okay. This should be interesting," Debbie said, trying to contain her excitement. "Will I be riding with you?"

  "Nope," Flannery said. "You're not going get very close to the action. Not as long as I'm here. You are going to spend some time with Officer Parker." Flannery paused. "And Officer Parker is going to remember that she's with a reporter, right?"

  Parker gave a curt nod. "Yes, sir."

  Flannery continued. "You and Parker are going to observe from a distance. You can listen to the action on the radio. And once we have everyone apprehended, then she'll bring you over."

  "I really hoped I could get a bit closer," Debbie said with her best smile.

  "And I really hoped you wouldn't be here at all. And Parker would like to be in on the action. Consider us all disappointed," Flannery said.

  "Is it just me, or is Flannery even more of a jerk today?" Debbie asked Parker as they drove to a location near--but not too close--to the bait car.

  Parker shrugged. "I don't know what you mean."

  "C'mon. You can tell me," Debbie said sweetly.

  Parker looked at Debbie's tape recorder and notebook, then pursed her lips.

  Debbie said, "Look, off the record. I'm not going to print it. Why the heck is he in such a foul mood?"

  Parker found a spot in a park near the bait car, rolled down the windows to try to keep her vehicle from suffocating them, and turned off the engine. All that was left was the sound of passing cars, some kids playing in the park, and the squawk of the police radio as cops talked about getting into position for the sting.

  "Off the record?" Parker asked again.

  "Absolutely," Debbie said.

  "He isn't happy that you're here."

  "That much is obvious," Debbie answered.

  "Rumor is that he and the police chief and the mayor got into it over this plan. So much so that people outside of the chief's closed office door could hear them arguing. Gossip says that Flannery called the mayor's idea a publicity stunt. He said that he couldn't guarantee your safety. Seems he's concerned that the shooting at your car the other day wasn't random, especially after the incident in the park."

  Debbie rolled her eyes. "I can take care of myself."

  "Of course," Parker said. "Paternalism is alive and well, especially in law enforcement. Anyway, you know there's bad blood between the mayor and Flannery anyway," Parker added. "You know, that whole ex-wife thing. And to think they were once close friends."

  "They were buddies?" Debbie asked.

  "A long time ago," Parker said.

  "Before Mayor Robertson stole Flannery's wife, I presume?"

  Parker nodded. "Obviously."

  "Was it also before Flannery was accused of being a dirty cop?" Debbie asked.

  Parker cleared her throat. "We don't talk about that," she said as she turned up the police radio. "Let's go back on the record. You might be interested in the conversation that is taking place over the police radio."

  Debbie flipped open her notebook and began scrawling down the clipped conversation that drifted through the radio. More than once, Flannery came on to remind the cops that a reporter was listening to the entire conversation. Most of the banter was benign, Debbie thought, juvenile insults punctuated with a reference to someone's mother hurled among officers to relieve the boredom. When the insults became too salty, Flannery was once again on the radio. Occasionally, the chatter would stop when pedestrians would near the car. It was almost as if Debbie could feel them holding their breath. But then those walking would continue on.

  After a while, even Debbie found it d
ull. Her primary distraction was a group of kids throwing rocks in the park. She guessed they were around twelve or thirteen. Just the sort of kids Teen Alliance would want visiting their center rather than wasting time out on the street. A few of them spotted Parker and Debbie sitting in the car. One of the kids in the group started to head over to their car when a friend grabbed him by the arm and shook his head.

  "What's that all about?" Debbie asked.

  "You know that whole 'idle hands and devil's workshop' saying, right? At least one of them was trying to figure out if we were easy targets," Parker said.

  "Easy targets for what?"

  "Probably to rob us. Steal our car. Play the knockout game. Who knows," Parker said.

  "The knockout game?" Debbie asked.

  "Roaming gangs of kids looking to prove their street cred. The object of the game is to knock an innocent person down. They'll punch and kick the poor sap who happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. One old guy walking home from the market was killed that way."

  "But they're so young," Debbie said.

  "Don't let their youth fool you," Parker said. "Anyway, one of them has figured out we're undercover cops."

  The noise of the radio interrupted Parker's warning.

  "Looks like we might have a winner," a voice called out. "Two suspects, male, probably late teens or early twenties, skinny white guy with short hair wearing a wife-beater and an African-American guy, bigger, in jeans and a gray T-shirt. They walked past the vehicle. Turned around and gave it a second look."

  Flannery's voice chimed in. "Are they approaching?"

  "Yeah, Detective. One is opening the passenger door. I think he saw the purse."

  "I see it on the camera," Flannery said. "He's got the bag in his hand. Seems to be rummaging around in it."

  "I see that as well," said one of the officers. "His buddy seems to be keeping an eye out. Oh, looks like the dude with the purse just found the keys."

  "Everyone sit tight," Flannery said. "If they turn on the ignition and move it away from the space, I'm going to hit the kill switch. When I say go, I need you to arrest them nice and neat. Remember, they could be armed."

  Debbie held her breath. She couldn't see what was happening. All she could do was listen to the crackly voices over the radio.

  "Go, go, go," Flannery shouted. "Kill switch activated."

  The sirens sounded. Debbie could hear them wailing through the radio as well outside, as if in stereo surround sound. But she couldn't see anything.

  "What's happening?" Debbie asked. "Can't we go over now?"

  "My orders are clear. You're not to be allowed on the scene until Flannery says so. And I'm not about to cross him," Parker said.

  "Well, at least tell me what it is you think they're doing," Debbie pleaded.

  "They'll circle the car and get out with their guns drawn. Three cop cars, I think."

  Debbie could hear the screech of brakes through the radio. "Hands up! Hands up!" Debbie heard through the radio.

  "I'm unlocking the doors now," Flannery told his officers.

  "Get down on the ground!" Debbie heard through the radio. Then it was silent. The silence seemed to last for ages, but it was only a few minutes.

  "You can bring Ms. Bradley over now," Flannery said.

  Parker threw the car into drive and stomped on the gas.

  "It must be killing you to babysit me," Debbie said. "I'm sorry about that. And I appreciate your tip."

  "I'll have other chances to be in on the fun," Parker said as she swung the car down a few blocks and brought it to a quick stop.

  They were closer to the action than Debbie thought.

  Two teens were bent over the hood of a car. Their hands were being cuffed behind their back. Flannery was barking orders to make sure the scene was secured. One officer was told to keep an eye on the people who had gathered on the sidewalk to gawk.

  "Keep her back!" Flannery shouted to Parker. "I don't want her contaminating any evidence."

  Debbie gritted her teeth. She'd been good. She'd followed directions.

  Pop. Pop. Pop.

  "Get down!" Flannery yelled.

  Parker ducked behind a car. Debbie stood still, frozen in place. She could hear the bullets but couldn't tell where they were coming from.

  Ting. Ting. The bullets were ricocheting off the car next to her. She could see the suspects had been pulled to the ground. Several officers had taken cover behind the car doors that had been left open.

  Flannery came bounding toward her. "Get down!" he yelled.

  He leaped into the air and tackled Debbie, who landed with a thud on the hard asphalt.

  The shooting stopped.

  Parker appeared from behind the car, looked at Debbie, and then looked at Flannery before yelling, "Officer down! Officer down!"

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Officer Down

  When the shooting stopped, the detective rolled his weight off of Debbie. His face was pale. His eyes darted about, still searching for the threat.

  Debbie sat up, dusted herself off, and spotted the blood on her clothes. "Oh my God!"

  "If you'd just listened," Flannery said, a barely perceptible pant punctuating the end of his sentence. "Gotten down when I told you to." His face grimaced as he sat up. He reached down to press one of his pant legs that was shifting from tan to crimson as Debbie watched.

  "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Debbie said, unable to look away from the liquid spot that was expanding in size. "I froze." She looked up at the circle of officers who had gathered around them. "We need an ambulance! Where's an ambulance?"

  Flannery snorted. "There's already one on the way. I heard Parker calling for it. Thank God someone keeps her wits about her under fire."

  The cry of sirens could be heard in the distance. Whether the sound was from an ambulance or from police officers who'd heard the "officer down!" call over the police radio and were now rushing to the location, Debbie wasn't sure. But as the cacophony grew louder, it seemed likely that there was more than one car on the way.

  "You saved my life," Debbie stammered.

  "You shouldn't have been here," Flannery said, his voice with the breathlessness of a runner in mid-jog, only he wasn't moving. "I had a bad feeling about this from the very moment I was told of this publicity stunt. You're bad news, Bradley."

  The crowd of blue parted to let a paramedic inside the circle.

  "No artery. Just meat," Flannery said as the first responder was already at work cutting the cloth away from the wound.

  The paramedic exposed the detective's thigh. "Yep," he said tersely, "a deep graze."

  Debbie watched as the paramedic administered first aid while another rolled over a stretcher.

  Flannery noticed that Debbie was suddenly pale.

  "She's gonna go down," he barked as he pointed to the reporter.

  An officer steadied Debbie.

  "Just take a few breaths," Flannery told Debbie, his voice only slightly softer than before. "Look, this wound is nothing but a fuckin' annoyance. I probably won't even miss any work. And that stinks. I could use a paid vacation. Hell, I'd take an unpaid vacation so long as I could get away from you for a while."

  Flannery was helped to his feet by the paramedics. When they tried to lead him to the gurney, he balked. "I'm not laying down on that thing, I can climb into the back of the ambulance. I'll sit."

  With a paramedic at each arm, Flannery shouted a few last orders. "The suspects need to go back to the North Division and questioned. Find the shooter. With the officer down call, there should be a swarm of officers here in no time."

  "Parker!" Flannery shouted, finding some energy in his reservoir of lingering anger at the mayor. "Take Bradley back to the station. Get her to her car. And for god's sake, make sure she doesn't linger around here. Who knows what she'll write."

  Parker hesitated. "I said to get her out of here," Flannery growled.

  Parker put her hand on Debbie's shoulder to guide her away fro
m the scene.

  "And Bradley," Flannery shouted, "before you go to the office, I think it would be wise if you went home and changed your clothes."

  Debbie looked at the dark circles on her jeans and the red spots on her white Converses.

  A smile crossed his face. "I imagine your mom is going to give me an earful about this one. At least you get to deal with her wrath first. I'm going to hide from her at the hospital for a while."

  At home, she was safe. And, at least for now, she was alone.

  Debbie peeled off the clothes she'd picked out only hours earlier and tossed them into the corner of her bathroom. She turned the shower on as hot as it would go, waiting for the steam to start rising from the tub. Her bare feet didn't register the air-conditioned chill of the white tile floor made up of tiny hexagon shapes that had been popular at the turn of the century and then lovingly reproduced during one of her mother's exacting renovations. Instead, her attention was focused on the medicine cabinet mirror above the white enamel basin. She stared blankly at her reflection, not recognizing the hollow-eyed woman who stared back. Eventually, the stranger dissolved in the bathroom fog.

  Debbie put her hand into the stream of water, flinching only when she realized just how hot it had become. She adjusted the temperature, waited a few more minutes for her shower to cool down, then stepped in.

  As the water fell over her hair and down her face, the shouts of officer down bounced off the inside of her skull. As Debbie closed her eyes and rubbed shampoo into her hair, it was Officer Parker's horrified face at seeing Flannery's wound that appeared.

  Debbie reached for her bath scrubber, smeared it with more body soap than one person needed, and rubbed her skin until it turned bright pink. When her body could no longer tolerate her efforts to wipe away blood stains that seemed stuck in her head, Debbie hung the scrubber back on a hook and positioned her body squarely under the cascade of water, surrounded by steam that rose up from tub.

  The heat was suffocating. So much so that Debbie found herself falling forward, catching herself by placing her hands on the far wall of the bathtub. It was there that she hunched over like a suspect across the hood of a car. It was only when the water turned to ice that Debbie found her balance.