Code Four

by Colin Conway

  “They’re not calling you! Don’t be delusional, buddy.”

  Baumgartner chuckled. “No, the first person the new mayor is going to call is the new chief of police. They’ll want to make sure my allegations about you are thoroughly investigated. Especially if the consent decree is still in place, they’ll need to make a name for themselves. Show themselves to be a law and order type of mayor. Hasn’t Maggie Patterson been pushing that idea around most of this year?”

  The two men seethed quietly at each other for several moments. Outside, a siren from a fire engine wailed in the distance.

  Finally, the mayor said, “So we’re in agreement then?”

  “Of what?” Baumgartner snapped.

  “That a consent decree would be a disaster for the department.”

  The chief slowly nodded. “I’d say we’re in agreement.”

  Mayor Andrew Sikes turned his palms up in frustration. “Then what the fuck are you standing here for? Get back to your department and make sure they don’t hammer us.” Then his face transformed into a magnanimous smile. “I know I can trust you to do the job, Bob. You’ve always come through before.”

  Baumgartner left without further word.

  Chapter 23

  “Jake and Molly!” she hollered. “Your dad’s here.”

  Angie Garrett stood in the open doorway of her house. She tried her best to keep her face passive, but there was a hint of malice behind her eyes. Her right hand clutched the door’s handle. An unconscious signal that she would slam it closed at any moment.

  Then he remembered she wasn’t Angie Garrett anymore. She was Angela Berg again. She’d abandoned his name.

  “They’re not ready?” Garrett asked.

  “We just got home from the park. Finally had some time to change my clothes.”

  His eyes traveled up and down her length. She wore a tight pair of tan shorts and a form-fitting T-shirt. Her feet were bare and her toenails unpainted. “You look good.”

  “Don’t start.”

  “Why don’t you grab some sandals and come with us?”

  “What about your girlfriend?”

  Garrett ignored her question. “It’ll be the four of us. Like old times.”

  Angie looked past him toward his car. Tiana wasn’t with him so there was nothing for her to see. He was supposed to pick his girlfriend up after getting the kids, but if Angie said yes, he would call and break their date. But more than likely…

  She shook her head. “Wouldn’t be a good idea.”

  “Why not? You got something better to do? Hot date maybe?”

  Her eyes hardened.

  “You seeing someone?” Garrett asked.

  Angie crossed her arms. “Does it matter?”

  “Do the kids know?”

  She paused, as if considering a lie, probably knowing damn well that Garrett would ask questions once they pulled away from the curb. It was a violation of the parenting plan to talk about the other parent, but it was bullshit legal talk. He knew she did it because he was doing it.

  “I just started seeing him,” Angie said.

  A lie. “What’s his name?”

  “You wouldn’t know him.”

  You would be surprised. “How do you know? I know I lot of people.”

  “I know your friends,” she said. “He doesn’t run in those circles.”

  “What circles are those?”

  She opened her mouth to say something then slowly closed it. Finally, she muttered, “Cops. He’s not a cop.”

  Jake and Molly showed up then, one on each side of Angie. Their grins were in stark contrast to their mother’s glare.

  Garrett forced a smile. He reached out and put a hand on each child’s head then pulled them toward him.

  “Good for you, Ang,” he said. Even though he didn’t mean a damn word of it, his voice was soft.

  “Thank you.”

  Garrett looked to his kids. “C’mon, guys. Let’s go have some fun.”

  “I want to be a fireman,” Molly said.

  Tiana Kennedy smiled. Her face was at the same level as Molly’s. “A fireman? Not a firewoman?”

  Molly cocked her head. “Huh?”

  The four of them were seated in a booth at the Carl’s Jr. on Northwest Boulevard.

  Tyler Garrett chuckled. “Why do you want to be a fireman, kiddo?”

  “Because they put out fires,” Molly said. She dipped a french fry in ketchup and lifted it into the air. “And they save people.”

  “Dad saves people,” Jake said.

  Molly frowned. “Is that true?”

  Garrett nodded. “Sometimes.”

  Tiana touched Molly’s nose with a finger. “Your dad even has a lifesaving medal because of it.”

  His daughter scrunched her nose. “I thought the police arrested people.”

  “We do that, too.”

  Even though she hadn’t taken a bite out of it, Molly dipped the french fry deeper into the ketchup. “That’s what I thought.”

  Tiana was still bent over with her face near Molly’s. “You don’t want to arrest people?”

  The little girl shook her head. “I want people to like me. People don’t like the police.”

  Jake looked to his father. “Mom doesn’t want me to be a policeman when I grow up.”

  Garrett put his hand on his son’s head. “You can be anything you want, but I would like it if you did something else.”

  “Like what?” Jake asked.

  “Something safe and inside an office.”

  “That sounds boring.”

  Tiana raised an eyebrow. “He sounds like you.”

  Garrett winked then checked his watch. “Hey, babe, I need to run for a couple minutes.”

  She straightened. Concern registered in her eyes. “What’s going on?”

  “A thing I gotta do.” He glanced to the kids. “Ten minutes at the most, but I’ll be right back. Can you watch them?”

  Concern washed over Tiana’s face, but she muttered, “Sure. Okay.”

  He stood, kissed her on the cheek, then said to the kids, “Be right back. Eat your burgers.”

  Outside, he opened his phone—the burner he kept for use with his side business—and saw a text message from Royal Harjo.

  Ready.

  The house was only a few blocks away from the restaurant. It was a small rancher with an attached garage. A large picture frame window took up most of the east half of the house.

  The exterior looked recently painted. Pictures online showed its interior was completely modernized—almost too nice for the neighborhood. Garrett had pulled the transaction history on the web and found that it sold earlier in the year. It was simple to understand what it was—a flip. Therefore, no one was living in it.

  A For Sale sign proudly stood in the front yard. On it was William Cardwell’s name and phone number.

  Earlier that morning, while he’d been watching Clint outside Earl Ellis’s grandmother’s house, Garrett made two calls. The first was to Cardwell to set a showing on this house. His assistant took the call and gladly scheduled the tour. The next call was to Royal Harjo—a big man with a knack for physical violence.

  Garrett drove slowly through the neighborhood, looping back by the small rancher several times. When he finally saw Cardwell’s Audi, he pulled to the side of the road.

  The Audi bounced into the driveway of the For-Sale house. Cardwell exited the car and trotted toward the front door. He was a tall, thin man in black slacks and a bright blue golf shirt. His gray hair looked expertly trimmed. Even from this distance, Garrett could see that Cardwell was filled with confidence bordering on arrogance.

  The man held his cell phone next to an electronic lock attached to the front door. When it popped open, he removed a key and let himself in.

  Garrett dropped his car into gear and crept down the street. When he was parallel with the picture window, he saw Cardwell fall inside the house. As he fell, the broker’s hand slapped the window. It didn’t break,
but light shimmered off the vibrating glass.

  It was hard to tell, but it appeared there was a masked figure standing near the window. Garrett glanced around and didn’t notice anyone moving about the neighborhood.

  Satisfied that no one else had seen the movement inside the For-Sale house, Garrett accelerated away.

  When he returned to the Carl’s Jr. parking lot, he checked his burner phone. He’d received one new text message.

  Done.

  He typed Good. Will call again from new number.

  Then he snapped the phone in half.

  He tossed the pieces into the trash can outside the entrance.

  Inside, Tiana and the kids had finished eating. Jake was playing with his phone and Molly and Tiana were whispering to each other. Molly giggled as she did so.

  Garrett slid into the booth next to his son and put his arm around him.

  “Everything good?” Tiana asked.

  “Definitely,” he said. “What do you say we go shoot some mini-golf?”

  “Yeah!” Jake said with a fist pump.

  Molly’s eyes lit up. “Can we get the cotton candy?”

  Garrett smiled at his daughter. “Of course, kiddo. It’s a great day. We should celebrate.”

  Chapter 24

  Union President Dale Thomas leaned over and whispered into Sergeant Kelly Ragland’s ear.

  Édelie Durand waited patiently as this process repeated itself for the umpteenth time.

  As Thomas continued to quietly advise his client, Ragland nodded but kept his gaze firmly affixed on Durand.

  The men across the conference room table were a study in opposites.

  Ragland wore a meticulously cared for police uniform. It was pressed to high creases, and there wasn’t a speck of lint or dust anywhere on the dark blue polyester. His badge glistened so much under the conference room lights, she wondered if he polished it. However, the tidiness of the uniform couldn’t hide the frumpy nature of the man himself. Ragland was overweight and his face was jowly. His eyebrows needed trimming and a couple long hairs peeked out from inside his nose.

  On the other hand, Dale Thomas wore a tan suit that appeared straight off a rack at Men’s Wearhouse. His white shirt looked as if he might have pressed it a couple days ago, and his tie was knotted haphazardly. That’s where the low budget ended with this man. His hair was cut in a businessman’s style, and his cheeks glistened as if they were recently shaved. His fingernails were clean and cut short.

  Durand glanced down at her notes, not because she needed to be reminded of anything, but to stop herself from rolling her eyes at the union president’s continued whispering.

  Ragland had sought counsel’s advice almost a dozen times already and Thomas had butted in a few when it wasn’t even necessary.

  When the sergeant finally spoke, he said, “I was assigned the position.”

  Durand sighed. “So you didn’t want it?”

  Thomas leaned toward Ragland again, but Durand lifted her hand to stop him. “Enough.”

  The union president straightened. “Excuse me?”

  “Can we let the man answer a simple question?”

  Dale Thomas pursed his lips before saying, “He has the right to counsel.”

  Durand smiled. “Of course, he does. I’m not implying he doesn’t, but if he can’t answer a simple question, it makes me wonder a couple things.”

  “Like what?” Thomas asked as he steepled his fingers.

  Durand turned her full attention to Ragland. “Like is he putting you between us because he’s done something wrong?”

  The union president snorted. “The advice of counsel doesn’t imply wrongdoing. Give me a break.”

  She faced Thomas now and shrugged. “Or maybe he’s too simple to understand my questions.”

  Thomas’s mouth dropped. “You can’t say that.”

  “I’m not simple,” Ragland protested.

  “She can’t say that,” Thomas said to Ragland.

  “If that’s the case,” Durand said, ignoring their protests, “then it’s an obvious failure of this administration to properly vet their leadership candidates. If you both will agree that Sergeant Ragland is too simple to understand my questions—”

  “I’m not simple,” Ragland repeated.

  Thomas laid a hand over his arm. “Kelly…”

  “Then I’ll make an entry to that agreement. We can end this interview right now and I’ll have my proof that this department has been derelict in its duty.”

  Ragland yanked his arm free of the union president’s hand. “I’m not simple,” he said.

  Durand raised her eyebrows. “But you’ve needed help on every question I’ve asked.”

  “He advised me not to talk—”

  “Kelly!”

  Durand glanced at the union president.

  Thomas turned to his man and whispered, “That’s not what I said.”

  Ragland muttered, “She called me simple.”

  “She’s trying to get your goat.”

  “And you told me not to talk.”

  Durand waited patiently for the two men to decide a course of action. Ragland chose it for them.

  He faced her and asked, “What was your question again? Did I want to lead the Anti-Crime Team? No, I did not want to lead that unit.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I was already the administrative sergeant. I didn’t want additional duties.”

  Durand nodded. Now, she was getting somewhere. “So, the desire to not be on the team had nothing to do with the unit personnel?”

  “The ones who were already assigned? I didn’t care about them one way or another. I have a good job. Day shift hours. I didn’t want to give it up. That’s what I cared about.”

  “But you took the assignment after Sergeant McGinn’s emergency leave?”

  “I’m a team player,” Ragland said. “I stepped up even though I didn’t want to.”

  “And you weren’t worried about the lack of experience from a couple of the team members?”

  “You mean Yang?”

  “And Officer Stone.”

  Ragland smirked. “I’ve never gotten to pick my people for any team. You work with what you’re assigned. I figured this was more of the same.”

  “Did you make it known that you didn’t want the assignment to ACT?”

  Dale Thomas leaned forward then. “We registered a formal complaint with the department.”

  “And what happened?”

  “Gary Stone was killed,” Ragland said.

  “The team was disbanded after that,” Thomas added. “Our formal complaint no longer served a purpose. Sergeant Ragland was returned to his original assignment.”

  Durand made a note on her pad before asking, “How did you feel the team operated prior to Gary Stone’s death?”

  Ragland glanced to the union president who shrugged in frustration.

  “Sort of dysfunctional,” the sergeant said.

  Thomas groaned.

  Durand asked, “Can you explain?”

  “Garrett and Stone were running around like they were Tango and Cash, taking doors—”

  She interrupted, “I’m sorry, I don’t get that reference.”

  “Taking doors?”

  “Tango and Cash.”

  He glanced to Thomas who refused to look at him now. “It was a movie. Sylvester Stallone and Kurt Russell. Late eighties, I think. Doesn’t ring a bell?”

  “What did they do? This Tango and Cash.”

  Ragland sucked his lips in while he thought. Then he said, “They were a couple detectives. Sort of loose cannons.”

  Thomas moaned at that.

  Ragland didn’t seem to notice. “But they got the job done, you know? Great action. Funny wisecracks. Lots of explosions if I remember correctly.”

  “And that’s how you saw Garrett and Stone?”

  “Mostly.”

  Thomas rubbed his temples.

  “And this made the team dysfunctional?�
�

  “When they were getting all sorts of pats on the backs, yeah. Zielinski and Yang were all butt hurt over it.”

  “Butt hurt?”

  “Upset. Jealous.”

  “Jealous of what?”

  “Since they weren’t the flavor of the month. And let’s be honest, Ray Zielinski is never going to be anyone’s flavor. He’s sort of an asshole.”

  “Kelly!” Dale Thomas yelled.

  “What? He is. Even you’ve said so.”

  “Not in public,” the union president protested. “And not on the record.”

  “What about Yang?” Durand asked.

  “She was sort of a push around.”

  “A push around?”

  “Someone who doesn’t stand up for themselves. Truth be told, I was thinking maybe they were hooking up. I mean, she’s a decent looker—”

  “God damn it, Kelly!” Thomas shouted.

  “But I couldn’t get past the fact that it was Ray Zielinski. Have you met him yet?”

  Durand shook her head.

  “This guy could find a pile of shit in a mound of diamonds. There was no way he was getting with a young thing like Yang.”

  Dale Thomas turned in his seat to put his back toward Ragland.

  “Was the team paired up like that on purpose?” Durand asked. “Garrett and Stone? Zielinski and Yang?”

  Ragland shrugged. “They were that way when I took over.”

  “Which adds to your dysfunctional comment.”

  “Definitely.”

  Durand tapped her notes while she thought. “Officer Yang resigned from the department shortly after the death of Officer Stone.”

  “I know. I out-processed her.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “It’s part of my job as administrative sergeant.”

  “No,” Durand said. “Do you know why she resigned?”

  “Oh.” Ragland considered, then shrugged. “Some types just aren’t a good fit for police work.”

  “Which types?”

  “The type that quits after something bad happens. The type that can’t hack it.”

  “I see. Anything else?”

  Ragland thought about it for a moment. “I thought the small team dynamic could lead to all sorts of noble cause corruption.”