The Biggest Little Crime In The World

by Brent Kroetch

  “You didn’t ask about the fee,” Ham grinned.

  The cabbie returned the smile and shook his head. “No need. I figure you’ll let me know when you’re ready to tell me. Ain’t no hurry on my part.”

  “I can pay you $2,500 a day, starting, of course, today.”

  Jesse’s jaw dropped somewhere south of his chest as he gulped and gasped his shock. “That’s outrageous,” he finally protested. “There’s no need to overpay. I’ll do just as good a job for you if you pay me normal wages as if you pay me millionaire fees.”

  “It’s going to be $2,500 a day, Jesse. Or there will be no agreement. I’ll just have to find me someone else.” If the words stung, the smile he offered washed that away.

  “Okay, McCalister,” Jesse grinned, “have it your own way. You’re the boss. I’ll be here when you come out.”

  Ham nodded thanks and hurried on into the lobby, intent on making his way to his room, the one that he and Charlie had intended as a post wedding party for two. The room that now characterized lonely sorrow and rueful discontent. And fear for the future, a dread of the unknown.

  He strode across the lobby, nearly made it onto the elevator, was stepping in as his phone blasted to life. The caller ID revealed it to be Gary, who apparently had grown tired of waiting for Ham himself to call back as had been promised. He tucked it back in its holster, unrequited, and rode up to his floor.

  Not until he opened the door to his room, not until he had loaded the disc into his laptop, and not until he started the procedure to dupe the feed did he pull his phone out and return the call to his attorney.

  The phone at Gary’s office connected half way through the first ring. “Gary Larsen and associates, Attorneys-At-Law.”

  “Hey, Chrissie, it’s Ham. Let me speak to Gary, if you will.”

  “Ham, damn your sorry ass, you’ve caused me nothing but misery today. Gary’s been breathing fire down my neck waiting for me to answer a call, the call from you that never came.” The tone of her voice indicated clear accusation, whether because of Gary’s hovering over her shoulder or because of Ham’s inattentiveness he felt unsure. “It’s about goddam time, and fuck you very much” she barked.

  Okay, now he knew.

  Gary snatched up the phone within seconds. “Finally, dammit. What’s going on? Why did you wait so long to call me? What, I’m an afterthought? And fuck you very much.”

  Still the same old Gary, Ham thought to himself. Patience called Gary a stranger. “Yeah, that seems to be the sentiment around your office. Anyway, I’m calling now so all should be forgiven. Also, I think I’m going to need your help.”

  “More felonies?” Gary guessed.

  “At least one, possibly more,” Ham agreed, “but that’s not the reason I’m calling at the moment. I want to keep you in the loop and on call. I’m not sure but what we’re going to have to go after one of my own.”

  “Here or in Reno?”

  “Definitely here, maybe in Vegas,” Ham shrugged. “Won’t know for a bit, I’m guessing. Meanwhile, Eric, Duncan and Drew are at the hospital with Russ. Last I heard he’s still unconscious. Which reminds me,” he noted, “I do need to call for an update.”

  “Do you need me to come out there?” Gary offered. “I can be there within a few hours if I charter a plane.”

  Ham thought it over, decided the idea had wings. “If you can get away, yeah, I think you should. I have a hunch that if I’m going to need you it’s going to be a quick like now need.”

  “Great,” Gary responded, “I’ll be out there before you know it. Now, before I hang up and make arrangements, give me a very quick rundown of your alleged crimes.”

  Ham related the incident of the pay for stolen feeds, about the Reno cop who’d seen them, left them and failed to mention them in his report, and the current dupe he had running in his computer. “I’m going to hand one copy over to this cop I’m working with, Lieutenant Karl Neely. The other one I’m going to get one of my buddies to run a facial on, more as a test of the locals than anything else. Not sure I can totally trust anybody at Reno PD, not even Karl.”

  “Good god, Ham,” Gary retorted, “do you have to antagonize every police department in every town you travel to? You know enough to plead the fifth, right? Not one freaking word until I’m there. Not one,” he insisted.

  Ham grinned as he hung up and holstered the phone, an image of a red faced diminutive bulldog run amok. In other words, Gary in court. Should the Reno cops be dumb enough to arrest him, Gary would feed them through the grinder and to the sharks. The thought evoked amusement along with a wider smile.

  He checked the progress of the dupe, noted it complete and popped the CD out and into a jewel case. Another dupe set, Ham stretched his suddenly tired limbs and idly wandered the smallish suite until he found himself at the picture window fronting the bustling street below. He slid the curtains wide and peered down at the activity thereon. As he did, he noted what he assumed to be Jesse leaning against his cab, arguing with, presumably, a cop. Though the room was too high to allow for perfect vision, the car that abutted Jesse’s revealed flashing lights in the grill, the symbol of unmarked police cars everywhere.

  If that was Jesse leaning against the cab, and Ham felt sure it must be, he appeared unconcerned by the cop’s presence. Arms folded across his chest, he merely nodded and voiced a response from time to time. Not once did he produce any identification of any kind, that much Ham discerned despite the distance.

  The cop reached into his car, doused the lights and, with a goodbye wave to Jesse, entered the hotel. Again, Ham had difficulty identifying the cop’s characteristics except for a light tan coat, maybe a windbreaker, which in itself he found curious given the blazing heat outside. Beyond that, all he could distinguish was that the man wore sunglasses and sported dark, rather short hair. He’d be interested in learning what brought that man of the law to his resort but only as a mere curiosity, nothing professional. Like when he passed an ambulance parked in front of a house or establishment, its lights flashing emergency within. As with most people, it piqued his interest, a curious human response to tragedy.

  Ham shrugged off the thoughts and the visions of misfortune in favor of attention to his computer. Already the feed had copied, the CD ready for storage in the open case nearby.

  A glance at his watch advised him he still had nearly twenty minutes before Lieutenant Neely arrived but decided to hell with it. A day of surging emotions and never ending slaps across the head deserved an early beer, fit the times. He hurriedly changed out of the suit he’d worn since before the wedding—which now felt days gone by—and into more comfortable jeans, open neck short sleeve shirt and a pair of sneakers. Like the unknown cop he’d seen out front, he finished with a light jacket, less from protection from the hotel’s air conditioning than for the need to cover the CD from prying eyes. He had no desire to advertise the handoff to a Reno cop.

  As Ham waited for the elevator he idly hoped that Karl would have the sense to be a bit circumspect himself, rather than drawing attention to what Ham still hoped would be an unremarkable meeting. Just two buds jawing away some time over a cold one.

  The ping of the elevator brought his mind back to the present and along with the few passengers also on board, he disembarked. Blinking into the confusion, he recalled that he had failed to locate the bar on his way in, or even on the way out before he and Charlie joined Drew and Russ at the chapel. But a niggling at the corner of his mind suggested he move left, beyond the check-in counter.

  The niggling not only led him to a directory but a directory that sat nudged up against the very same lobby bar he sought. With a slight smile and a silent laugh at himself, he entered the tastefully decorated smallish room and let his eyes adjust to the dimmer setting inside. When they did he noted with surprise that, though the man at the bar sat with back toward him, it had to be the same guy he’d seen emerge from the unmarked, the very one who’d spoken to Jesse.

  Ham sauntere
d farther down the bar where he grabbed a seat and motioned for service. As he ordered a draft, he let his vision slide sideways, seeking out the man several stools away.

  And recognition hit at once. His appointment, Karl Neely of the Reno PD, sat nursing his own draft, eyes glued to the news on the TV above the bar. Grinning, Ham grabbed his beer and plopped down next to Karl.

  Only then did he note the man wore a tan windbreaker.

  Ham’s eyes squinted into the dimness, thoughts whirling within. Had the talk with Jesse just been a coincidence, a cop asking a cabbie why he was hanging around, blocking a busy entrance, and that so near an intersection? Or was it personal? Perhaps they were acquainted, either well or in passing. Both city residents, both working the streets, that certainly seemed possible, even probable. He mentally shrugged and let it go.

  “You’re early,” Ham spoke to the unseeing man beside him.

  Karl jumped, noticeably spooked, such had been his concentration. “Ham, jeez,” he jibed, “you about gave me a heart attack. Clear your throat or something before you sneak up on a man.”

  “Most grown men don’t jump and shriek like a child,” Ham unkindly and jokingly pointed out.

  Neely grinned in return and held up his glass. “You can make it up to me with another round.”

  Ham nodded to the bartender and pointed at Karl’s glass for a refill. Taking a sip from his own, he inquired, “How come so early?”

  “Anxiety, I guess. This has been one hell of a day, don’t you think? I’m more than anxious to get my hands on that feed you got and see what we can find out. Plus, what the hell, if I’m going to be honest, I just plain wanted a beer. So here I am. Thirst and curiosity in need of satiation.”

  “Speaking of the feed, here’s the dupe,” Ham told him as he handed it to the cop below bar level. “Tuck it away. And where the hell did you pick up a word like ‘satiation’? Here I thought you were just another ignorant cop.”

  Karl nodded, slipped it into his jacket pocket. “Sometimes I’m glad to be on blood thinners. It means I’ve always got a jacket in the damn air conditioning. Either that or I’d freeze and that would be both ironic and miserable in the middle of a heat wave, don’t you think? And to answer your likely rhetorical question, I managed to make my way through graduate school. Master’s degree in English.”

  It occurred to Ham to ask the reason for the medication, the need for blood thinners, but decided that would be brazenly rude. After all, none of his business. If Karl wished to explain, he would. If not, fine. “No wonder you speak so well,” was all he said. “Impressive.”

  Neely ignored the statement in favor of a question of his own. “You have the same trouble?” he asked, nodding to Ham’s coat.

  No need, Ham decided, to go into long-winded detail about discretion. “No, for me it’s just thin blood. Born and cursed with same.” After taking a long swig from his glass, Ham set it down and looked Karl directly in the eyes. “You know Jesse from where?”

  The lieutenant studied him for a long moment, then shrugged indifference. “Don’t know any Jesse. Who would that be? And why would you ask?”

  Ham cocked his head, surprise evident in the move. “The cabbie out front. The one I saw you talking to when I was in my room.” At Karl’s questioning look, he added, “My room fronts the street, located almost directly above the entrance to the resort.”

  Karl shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t have a conversation with any such person, at any such place, not at any such time.”

  Ham tried another way. “Where are you parked?”

  Neely eyed him with amusement. “You were a cop, you tell me. Where did you park when you were on a case?”

  Ham grinned the obvious. “Anywhere I wanted to. So you’re parked right out front?”

  “Right out front,” the cop agreed. “But I still don’t know what you’re referring to. If there’s a cabbie there I failed to notice. Which says a lot about my investigative expertise, doesn’t it?” he jested. “So who is this guy? And, again, why are you asking me this?”

  “He’s nobody, really,” Ham replied, trying to sound earnest and unconcerned. “I flagged him down and got a ride from him. He seemed like a nice guy, very talkative, a mobile advertisement for your city. It’s just that I was curious as to why he’s still here. Although,” he admitted, “it might not even be the same guy who gave me a ride, it might be a different cabbie altogether. I’m too high up to identify faces.”

  “Yeah, that’s probably it,” the cop agreed. “Anyway, I can’t help you. I didn’t talk to anybody and like I said didn’t notice a cab at all. Probably just a coincidence,” he suggested.

  “No doubt. Are you set to get the feed run on facial recognition?” At Neely’s nod, he asked, “Is it at your station?”

  Karl regarded him with interest and not a touch of suspicion. “No, why do you want to know that? More to the point, why do you care?”

  “Oh come on,” Ham snapped. “I’m not asking for national secrets here, I’m just asking because I want to know how you’re going to get it done, how long it’s going to take in your opinion, and how long it will be before you give me the results. Which you will,” he added before Karl objected.

  “Which you and the governor assure me I will. Unless I want to clean toilets at the station until retirement.” No smile emerged to soften the accusation, a fact not lost on Ham.

  “Well? Got any answers for me?”

  “We’ll send it to the state boys, they’ve got the programs for this. We’ve used them before, they’re usually fairly quick. I expect we’ll know something within the next few days, maybe a week. I’ll keep you posted.” With that he downed the remainder of his draft, threw a twenty on the bar and motioned for his check.

  When it arrived, Ham reached for it. “I’ll take care of this,” he told the cop. “Remember, you’re on the payroll now. Call it a company perk.”

  “No,” Karl replied, “right now I’m not. Right now I’m on the city payroll and this smells too much like a favor being bought. In plainer words, a bribe.” His smile demonstrated humor when he added, “You can bribe me after shifts. Steaks are good.”

  Ham’s eyes followed the detective’s exit from the bar and march to the entrance. He sat, idly sipping at his beer, and waited fifteen minutes to assure himself that Karl would be long gone from the area before he, too, motioned for his check. Fifteen minutes that would tell him volumes. Like either his crap-o-meter needed adjustment or that his instincts remain honed to the hilt.

  Because whatever that was, it was unreal. Ham had interviewed thousands of suspects in his day and he knew all the tells. Assuming so too did Neely, that did not alter the fact that some few showed. Like his nervous tap of feet against the stool rail, a tap caught and stopped as soon as Karl recognized it himself. Like his occasional sideways shift of the eyes as he answered a question, a surefire sign of deception. No need for a lie detector to demonstrate that.

  And yet he could not figure a reason Karl would lie about Jesse. What could possibly be the harm in an admission of acquaintance? Or a chance meeting and a few words exchanged as part of a daily check of the streets of the city? There could be no earthly reason—no legitimate earthly reason—to deny such a connection, either personal or professional. Which caused Ham to rethink his crap-o-meter. A trip to the shop to have it adjusted would be on his near schedule. It had to be.

  After collecting his change and tossing a tip on the bar, Ham worked his way the hotel exit. There he paused to take off his jacket—no need for it in the blazing late afternoon sun—and to peer through the huge tinted picture window. He noticed Jesse still there, still lounged against his car, but saw the unmarked had departed. That sixth sense, his cop survival radar, warned him to make nothing of its absence.

  With sunglasses now on he emerged into the frantic activity of the downtown street. Jesse began to straighten, no doubt to greet, meet and escort Ham
to his cab, but as he did Ham gave a gentle and all but imperceptible shake of the head. Jesse instantly adjusted his stance, looking for all the world as if just shifting out of discomfort, and pointedly looked beyond Ham and on into the casino. That man was damn quick on the uptake, Ham thought with delight. His admiration and gratitude jumped high up the meter as he wondered where Jesse had attended acting class and when he’d received his Oscar.

  Ham paused to ostensibly adjust his glasses, position his jacket across his arm and take a quick assessment of the traffic. That quick assessment resulted in what he had hoped not to see but believed he might. Though disappointed, he almost felt relief that his investigative hunches still held value, still led him to the right ends. For there, a half block up and across the street, sat Karl’s ride. The sun glared off the front windshield and prevented visual confirmation but the car looked the same. And he definitely discerned the lights in the grill. Lights he had seen flashing from his room above the street.

  So Karl, for reasons of his own, and for reasons he’d chosen not to share, had decided that Ham was worthy of surveillance. And therefore suspicion. Which meant, in turn, Neely himself had to be placed high atop Ham’s suspect list.

  He turned towards the car and headed up the street, knowing his eyes hid behind the tinted lenses. Though watchful of the rush around him, his concentration sat squarely on Karl’s vehicle, wondering what move the cop might make as Ham neared.

  It took mere moments to find out. Once he closed the distance by half, Neely pulled from the curb, merged into traffic and blended with the masses.

  Ham recognized the maneuver. Karl had not intended to follow his mark. He wanted to see whether Ham would contact Jesse and compare notes. In which case, he suspected, Karl would have barged in and taken Ham down. Though why, at the moment, he couldn’t fathom. But God and the world could bet that he would.