by Colin Conway
—Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes, “The Adventure of the Three Gables”
Chapter 55
Captain Tom Farrell stared down at the white cardboard box in front of him, half full with all his possessions. He’d walked around his office twice now and was surprised at how few items were truly his. Almost everything belonged to the department, and so he left it for the next occupant of this room. He’d turned in his badge, his gun, his uniform, his keys, his ID card, everything that marked him as a police captain. Sergeant Ragland had collected every police-issue item, officiously marking each off his list as he went. Farrell could tell he enjoyed the task. Then he’d handed Farrell the empty box and escorted him here.
This room was the last thing. It wasn’t his anymore, either.
Baumgartner had allowed him to retire, at least. His career was destroyed, and he had lost more than just his job. He’d lost his legacy. His name was forever sullied. That had been the cost of his actions.
Was it worth it?
That was what the chief asked him when Farrell showed him his retirement papers. He’d asked without rancor, his tone genuinely curious, so Farrell told him the truth.
“I don’t know.”
Three days ago, it had briefly felt worth it when he watched Detective Wardell Clint march a bloody-faced Garrett into the jail. In that moment, if Baumgartner had asked him if it was worth it, he might have said yes. But the chief had remained as silent as he had himself, and Garrett had turned his head, looking away from both of them.
Now, though? With his career gone? Was it worth it now?
He thought perhaps yes. If he had lost his pension, had hurt Karen’s future that way, then he believed it would have been a resounding no. But Robert Baumgartner was old school, a pragmatist who believed in honor. When he gave Farrell his medicine straight—retire or be fired—he told him as much.
“I know why you did it, Tom. I know what your intentions were,” he’d said. “But you fucked up too badly to ever come back from this.”
Baumgartner was right. He was lucky to be leaving via retirement, his name in shambles. Of course, he was still at risk for anything the Department of Justice might decide to throw at him. And who knew what civil suits might come out of this debacle. He still had a long road ahead of him.
But it would be as a civilian, not a police officer.
Farrell stared down at the photograph on the top of his personal items in the box. It was his academy class, taken decades ago now. His own smiling face, utterly naïve, gazed up at him, full of hope, promise, determination. Ashamed, Farrell reached into the box and turned the frame facedown.
A knock came at his door. He looked up sharply. He’d been hoping to get his things and slip out of the station. The few eyes that had lighted on him today either held pity or contempt, and he had no desire for either.
Captain Dana Hatcher stood in the doorway, eyeing him expectantly. “Bad time? I can come back.”
Farrell pointed to the white cardboard box. “I won’t be here.”
She followed his gesture. Her face fell. “Oh.” She looked back at him. “I’m sorry, Tom.”
He considered her. He’d thought she had come by to gloat, or to get a look at the corpse of his career, but he saw genuine sympathy in her.
“Thanks,” he said.
“I…I wish I had known,” she said. “Maybe I could have helped. Instead of…what happened.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know, but…I am sorry.”
Farrell nodded. He reached for the cardboard top to the box and fitted it on. He gave Hatcher a slight lift of his chin to say farewell and headed out the door.
“Good luck,” she said after him.
As he walked out of his office and away from mahogany row, he tried to keep his head high. But when one of the crime analysts rounded the corner near the chief’s office, he averted his eyes as they passed in the hallway. Neither of them spoke.
Farrell decided he didn’t want to go out through the foyer of the Public Safety Building. Everyone from cops to lawyers and clerks to civilians to criminals would see him, carrying his white box of shame. He didn’t want to endure their stares or hear them murmur as he walked past. He decided to use the west doors to exit the building. He didn’t have his ID card, but the employee entrance only required one to enter, not to leave.
Thank the fire marshal for small favors.
He turned around and headed back down the hallway. His mind was curiously quiet, as if he were clinically observing his own final moments inside a police station. Even his shame seemed to step to the sidelines.
Then a thought struck him. Right now, his actions were scandalous, but everyone knew what he’d done. He’d helped orchestrate Garrett’s downfall. Yes, it had been Clint who brought the man in, but he had been a part of that. But as the years passed, would people lose that distinction? Would his fall from grace become lumped in with Garrett’s, melted together into one scandalous event?
Farrell passed the Investigative Division and reached the west doors. He turned sideways and depressed the push bar with his hip to open the door. Warm summer air greeted him when he stepped outside. He headed to his personal vehicle, wondering if he was going to be remembered as the dirty captain who was forced to retire as part of the Garrett affair.
He hoped not.
But he thought so.
Chapter 56
“He just…he looked so devastated,” Captain Hatcher said.
Chief Baumgartner pursed his lips. “I imagine he was.”
“It must have been difficult for you,” Hatcher said. “To fire him.”
“I didn’t fire him. He retired.”
“Of course. That’s what I meant.”
Baumgartner leaned forward. “Then, Dana, that’s what you need to say.”
The intensity of his words seemed to surprise her. He realized she had no idea what was coming or why he’d called her to his office today.
“You’re right,” she managed. “Thank you.”
Tom Farrell had departed only yesterday, but Baumgartner knew he couldn’t wait to put things into motion. The Department of Justice wasn’t known for its agility, but he still didn’t expect it to be long before he received formal notice that a consent decree was coming. Lou, his so-called football friend from high school who now worked at Justice, had reached out to let him know that it was almost a certainty. Baumgartner wondered if Durand was behind that notification, too, just like she’d orchestrated the tip that she and her team were on their way.
Once the decree was in place, his decision-making authority would be severely curtailed. He needed to put his plan into effect quickly so that it would already be in place when any sort of freeze occurred.
Hatcher was a central part of that plan.
“I’m promoting you to assistant chief,” he told her. “Effective tomorrow.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “I thought that position was dead.”
“No, only hibernating until I thought the time was right. Now is that time.”
Hatcher processed the news. He could see she was both pleased and confused, and perhaps even a little suspicious.
Good. I need your optimism, but I need you to be suspicious, too. It’s the only way you’ll survive.
“Can I ask why?” she asked.
“A consent decree is almost certainly coming in the wake of Garrett’s arrest,” Baumgartner said. “I may be a casualty of that process, whether I get canned right away, or down the road. There needs to be a successor in place, with time to get up to speed.”
“But why me?”
Baumgartner fixed her with a speculative look. “Why do you think?”
“Tell me it’s not because I’m a woman,” she said. “Because if that’s why…”
“If that’s why, you don’t want it?”
Hatcher paused. “I didn’t say that.”
Baumgartner smiled slightly. “Well, it’s not, so you can relax
. But if you’re going to be my number two, we need to be able to be honest with each other, agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“Then the truth is, the woman part doesn’t hurt. The optics are good, and Lord knows we need some good optics these days.”
Tyler Garrett and his wounded face had become the image of the police department, and he wanted to change that. Swiftly.
“But the biggest reason is that you’re a good leader, Dana. And I think you can be a good chief someday. I don’t get to name my successor, but I can try to rig the game in your favor as much as possible when the time comes. At the very least, you’ll get some time as the interim chief, and a fair shot at the job.”
“When the time comes?”
Baumgartner shrugged. “Whenever that is. Tomorrow, or five years from now.”
“Is there a catch?” she asked. “There’s always a catch in politics.”
“I suppose there is. I’ll admit to being a little selfish here. I’ve given most of my life to this department. I want to leave it in good hands. By making you the AC, I know you’ll get the experience to do the job. Because we’ll be working closely, I’ll be able to pass on what I know, what I’ve learned.”
“Mentor me?”
“Call it what you will.” She had it right, though. Steering the department through the consent decree was his immediate concern, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t concerned about his legacy. If things went as he hoped, she would be his legacy.
She nodded, understanding. “This is a political move.”
Baumgartner almost smiled again. Of course, it was political.
Promoting Hatcher threw up a little bit of a shield where DOJ was concerned. They might urge Sikes to fire him, but it would look bad to fire Hatcher, too, without even giving her an opportunity. As a captain, she wouldn’t be afforded that, but as assistant chief? She had a claim.
Having her in the second chair might also blunt Councilwoman Margaret Patterson’s attacks on him. Since a chief and an assistant chief were considered as one office, any slings and arrows she flung toward Baumgartner would strike her friend, too. The only alternative for Patterson was to claim Hatcher was only a figurehead. That wasn’t a viable option because it undermined Hatcher, something Patterson would want to avoid. He suspected that councilwoman would be forced to adjust the nature and intensity of her criticism. With a little work, maybe she could even be turned into an ally.
The biggest checkmate this move provided was with the mayor, though. Baumgartner had no doubt Sikes was biding his time, waiting for his first viable opportunity to fire him. He’d said as much. The Garrett arrest hadn’t given him quite enough, since it had been his own people who brought in the dirty cop. But a consent decree would provide sufficient ammunition for the mayor to send him packing.
He could still do so, but Baumgartner doubted it. If he left, that would make Hatcher the interim chief by default. Sikes would have to respect that or risk the terrible look of canning the first female chief in the department’s history without even affording her a fair chance to prove herself. But if he left her in office, even as an interim, he’d have to deal with the fact that his greatest political rival, Margaret Patterson, was closely allied with his police chief. Sikes would never allow that. He’d see all these political nuances before he acted, like waiting chess moves, and eventually recognize that his strongest play was to stick with Baumgartner, at least for a while longer.
“You still haven’t told me the catch,” Hatcher said.
“The catch is simple,” he told her. “You have to commit. This is an all-in proposition. There are no half measures. Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
“I’m serious, Dana. It means you have to fully embrace executive leadership. It’s a completely different sphere. You don’t get to be a three-stripe captain anymore, you follow?”
She frowned. “That’s unfair. I care about my people.”
“I know. It’s one of your strengths. But every strength is also a weakness. You have to learn how to serve them in the role you are in now. You’re not a sergeant, holding their hand. Not a captain, either. You’ll be a chief, and that is something altogether different. There are difficult choices to make and your every action has significant consequences for people. You have to be able to do the right thing for the greater good, even it if it is the hardest thing.”
“Like forcing a longtime friend to retire?”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Or leveraging a friendship with a city councilmember. Can you do that?”
Hatcher didn’t hesitate. “If it is for the good of the department or the public, absolutely.”
Baumgartner heard the sincerity and the resolution in her tone. He was glad to hear that because she was going to need it.
“Plenty of departments have survived a consent decree,” he said. “Many have come out the other side better for it. But everything depends on leadership, especially on the chief.” He gave her a knowing look. “And the assistant chief. We have to show a united front to DOJ and to our own people.”
“I understand.”
“Can I count on you, Dana?”
Hatcher sat up straight in her chair and met his gaze. “Yes, Chief. I’m in.”
Chapter 57
Ray Zielinski sat at a table in the corner of the Starbucks. He remembered the last time he’d been at this coffee house. He’d met Dana Hatcher—Assistant Chief Hatcher now, as of three weeks ago—for coffee and conversation, something they’d been doing since they were both patrol officers. She’d moved up the ladder and he’d stayed on patrol, grinding it out. Then, in the last two years, she jumped from lieutenant to the office next to the chief’s, and he’d landed in a world of shit.
Assistant chief. Talk about going over to the dark side.
He sipped at his coffee, glad for the constancy of it. He always got the same thing at Starbucks, and it always tasted the same way. There wasn’t much in life with that kind of consistency. Wives filed for divorce, kids grew distant, and friends stopped calling…or got promoted to assistant chief. But his Pike brew tasted like god damn Pike, every time.
Dale Thomas, the union president, hustled through the door. He didn’t bother with the line of customers waiting to order coffee, making his way directly to Zielinski.
I guess he’s not staying long.
The truth was, he didn’t know where he stood with the union anymore. When Internal Affairs completed the investigation into the complaints against him, Chief Baumgartner took very little time to consider before firing him. Any rhythm he had hoped for when it came to Hatcher lobbying on his behalf either never materialized or didn’t have an impact. It took her all of a few weeks wearing a star on her collar to hang him out to dry. To be fair, he supposed the looming potential of a consent decree from DOJ influenced the chief’s decision, too. But he thought firing him was a harsh response. A suspension would have been fair, but to flat out fire a guy with his time on the job? And after his role in helping bring Garrett in? It seemed like there was a lack of appreciation and one of things he was hoping to discuss with Thomas today was some sort of an appeal to get himself reinstated.
Thomas pulled out a chair and plopped into it. He was breathing a little heavily, and his collar and armpits of his shirt were ringed with sweat.
“Get you a coffee?” Zielinski asked.
“In this heat?”
“They have iced.”
Thomas shook his head. “I don’t have a lot of time. This DOJ stuff is heating up.”
Zielinski scowled. “Well, sorry to bother you with my wrongful termination.”
Thomas didn’t react, except to raise his eyebrows slightly. “Wrongful?”
“Yeah,” Zielinski said, his anger bubbling. He’d been paying union dues for his entire career, and those dues paid this guy’s salary. So why was he always too busy for him?
Thomas loosened his tie. “Ray, I think we’re going to need to have a reality check discussion here today.”<
br />
Zielinski thought so, too. Thomas was supposed to represent him. Not do it half-assed, and not bail on him. “So do I,” he said.
“Let’s start with the good news. I just came from the county prosecutor’s office. They are declining to pursue any criminal charges against you.”
Relief flooded him. That was good news. While his second encounter with Darold Barden fell into a gray area, he’d been worried about how the prosecutor interpreted their first encounter. He’d heard from Thomas that they had discussed whether it qualified as a burglary, which was a felony. The prospect of a felony criminal charge after all he’d been through had been weighing heavily on him.
“Their decision will almost certainly help if Barden or Sanita sue you civilly,” Thomas said, “but that will be something for you to discuss with your attorney.”
Zielinski did a double take. “My attorney? You’re my attorney.”
Thomas shook his head. “No. I am the union president, who happens to be a lawyer by trade. I will continue to represent you in one matter and one matter only, and that is where your employment is concerned.”
“So you’ll get me reinstated but I’m on my own for anything else?” Zielinski asked in disbelief. “Are you serious?”
“Your defense is your own responsibility, yes. And reinstatement isn’t an option, Ray. We won’t be appealing the termination.”
“Not appealing…what the hell?”
“There are no grounds, and we can’t risk a frivolous appeal that damages our credibility.”
“Frivolous?”
“We’ll be arguing for the city to pay out your remaining vacation days and sick time, and we’ll negotiate with the Department of Retirement Systems regarding your pension, but that’s the end of it.”
Zielinski sat back in his chair, spreading his arms wide. “I don’t get it. I’m the good guy here, Dale. Garrett was the bad guy, not me.”
Thomas looked at him for a long while. Then he said, “Garrett is in jail, awaiting trial. In addition to a nasty crease on his face that wasn’t there before, it’s my understanding he’s looking at life imprisonment if convicted. So I think the system is humming along where he’s concerned.”
