“Where were they in all of this?” he thought to himself, he didn’t remember seeing any distraught family members or anyone crying on his way into the home, “they must have left her in this place alone.” Ryan having not even met the victim’s suspected children already despised them, “they could have done something,” he knew more than anyone the pain of seeing a family member in trouble and being helpless to do anything about the situation.
“I don’t see any car parked out front, no keys to any either, although they could be anywhere in here,” Claire said as she began to roll the body of the elderly lady on the floor of the kitchen over to further examine her. “Shot twice, once in the stomach and once in the chest, looks like all this happened quickly.”
“Let’s hope so,” said Ryan, “clearly the suspect didn’t do their homework if they assumed the place would be empty, amateur hour,” added Ryan as he knelt down for a closer view, “You continue here, I’m going to find this witness that the uniform is keeping an eye on outside.” As he walked out of the kitchen and through past the front door down to the steps he saw the crowd was now even larger than before, the police were struggling to keep the street’s traffic moving steadily.
“Get those people back!” he heard one officer shout as he approached the witness, a young boy named Marcus Simpson aged no more than seven. Ryan knew that if the witness checked out and it then led to an arrest the boy would have to testify in court and ID the suspect on the stand, he didn’t feel for him it’s a lot of pressure for a boy around that age to deal with.
“So, did you get a good look at the guy?” he asked as he leaned forward bringing himself down to Marcus’s level.
“He looked a normal colour like me,
“A normal colour? Do you mean like me? Or like that other officer over there?” Ryan asked,
“Like you, he had writing down his arms and bright blonde coloured hair like mommy, he ran away really fast after the loud bangs,” Marcus simply said to Ryan as he pointed towards the house.
“He had writing? Like tattoos? All down his arms?” he asked the boy leaning further in.
“The one on his neck was a cross shape, with red colour,” stated Marcus, as Ryan dipped his head and acknowledged. He then began to walk away with a determined look on his face as he reached for his phone from his coat pocket calling someone from the station house.
“Find me anyone local with past or present gang affiliations, prison records and cross reference that with known Aryan affiliations in the local area. Find me some photographs for this kid to look at back at the station.”
* * *
Back at the station Ryan had arranged a line up for the young boy to view still accompanied by his mother. Several hours after some photographs of about twenty potential suspects were viewed at his desk, after scanning through and picking out a few possible ones they were assembled later that afternoon for Marcus to view from a separate room with his mother. Harry joined the three of them,
“I never could turn down a good perp parade,” he said chuckling softly and rubbing his hands together. One by one the suspects marched in each more violent than the last, some with records of past crimes as long as hymn sheets. Harry seemed drawn to suspect number five, he inspected him closely and walked all the way up to the one way mirror. Ryan didn’t know what Harry saw in that older stout gentleman, with a navy blue boiler suit on and black thick rimmed glasses, he looked the least likely to be a killer when compared to the wretches he was stood in line next to.
“Is something wrong?” Ryan asked. Harry had begun scratching his head and adjusting his tie nervously fixating on the man in the line-up.
“Excuse me for a second,” he replied as he left the room and scurried back into his office closing the door.
Meanwhile Marcus who was standing next to his mother this whole time, had pointed at the man in the number one position,
“that’s him,” Marcus said.
Number one was Rio Jamieson, who wasn’t exactly the career criminal, he was only twenty five but already had a long history with the wrong side of law. He was violent young offender who had a history of home invasions on his record and the red swastika on his neck that matched the one the young witness identified. When the other suspects were let go Rio was held for questions and escorted to holding room two, he would subsequently be moved to the interrogation rooms. Ryan walked past Harry’s office to see him arguing with someone down the other end of the expensive new mobile phone he had bought for himself the previous day.
“...I was just letting you know!” Was all that Ryan’s ears managed to catch Harry shouting, before hurling his mobile phone across the room with so much force it cracked but didn’t break the glass of a shared window with the office next to his own. The entire floor could hear his outburst and couldn’t help but try to gain a peek into what was going on.
“What was that about?” Ryan asked as he entered Harry’s office hoping for a private chat with his old friend. Maybe he could offer some help and be there for Harry, in the way’s he was always there for him.
“Not now Ryan,” He replied before grabbing his coat and walking out his office heading for the station exit. Ryan then remembered what Claire had said to him earlier about Harry acting bizarre for no given reason at the hospital. Ryan closed his office door gently and continued down the hall to interrogation room two.
Chapter III
Rio Jamieson was visibly nervous as he sat awaiting questions in interrogation room two. His palms were sweating as he rubbed his moist hands together. He was clenching and tightening his fists under the table and the talks hadn’t even begun with detective Mathers yet, this was everything Ryan could see as he sized up his prey. If they had enough to charge him they would have already, Rio’s only saving grace. When Ryan entered the room he played the waiting game, he could see the beads of sweat from Rio’s brow trickling down the sides of his face as he perspired sitting in the chair. Jamieson had yet to make a phone call since he was hauled down to the station for the line up a few hours earlier so was still to procure a lawyer. Rio wasn’t the brightest bulb in the chandelier and his history with being caught in his file for all at the station to see could prove it. Even though he wasn’t under arrest, he was free to leave at any time; Ryan noticed that he was unaware of this fact, which only made him look all the more guilty in Ryan’s eyes, who had thus far delayed to take a load off in the chair. Ryan decided to play all this to his advantage before sitting down. Instead he reached for a cigarette out of his pocket and proceeded to light it and take a pull,
“Uh... I don’t think you can smoke in here,” Jamieson said to Ryan as he pointed out the ‘no smoking’ sign hanging not three feet above his head over the one way mirror.
“You’re telling me the law, that’s rich,” Ryan retorted to Rio as he took another drag on his cigarette. At one point Ryan would always turn down a cigarette but these days it’s one of the small pleasures in life he has left, that and the taste of a refreshing Glen Garioch single malt at Mickey’s several times a week.
“So a witness saw you running away from our scene this morning,” Ryan opened with as he finally sat down and looked directly at Jamieson.
“No way man, I was nowhere near Riggs street today I didn’t even know that old lady that got killed!” he replied.
“I didn’t even mention Riggs street, or the fact an old lady was shot, the press don’t even know that, we haven’t even informed the family members. Yet you knew the location of the crime scene, and a description of the victim! You really are as stupid as people say eh? For someone who brushes with the law constantly you certainly know nothing about it. You were free to go a few minutes ago, now we’re more than a little interested in you Rio,” Ryan told Jamieson as he read him his right’s, Jamieson didn’t even protest the charge he just hung his head and began crying saying,
“I didn’t mean it,” evidently wondering how could he have been so stupid as he was escorted out of the room in handcuff
s knowing he just all but sentenced himself to twenty-five to life.
“Is it me or are criminals getting stupider and stupider by the day, that has to be the quickest homicide solved in the departments history,” said Commissioner Ellis as he peered around the door having examined the whole interview from the observation room. “You looked like the Ryan of old in there, although I don’t agree with the smoking, good work detective.”
Mathers naturally embraced the appreciation from Ellis as he decided to call it quits for one day, he made sure to pick the card up from his desk drawer unfolding it carefully, smiling as he left the station and headed home to see his daughter April. This was a day he could actually tell somebody about for a change, Ryan hadn’t felt this good in years while working in that building, and this was pleasant for him to know. He was leaving with a joyous attitude rather than a lousy one.
* * *
Later that same day as the evening drew near and the light began to fade from the city, a black BMW with the windows tinted was driving down Cleveland Avenue towards a house on Garfield Street located in the Woodley Park area. A blue sedan was in the rear view mirror several car lengths behind but was yet to be noticed by either person in the car, it had been following the black BMW all morning and afternoon from his office, to the school and then home again. Inside the car was city councilman Eli Walker and his Daughter Christy, he was driving her home from Gonzaga College High School. She was eighteen and old enough to drive but Eli always made a point to her that he enjoyed their regular weekday routine of morning and afternoon trips to and from school together. He was very close with his daughter ever since his wife had died during her birth and she adored and adulated her father. Christy was always stylishly dressed, well behaved and committed to her school work, the complete opposite of her good friend April from her class. She modelled most aspects of her life so as to repeat her father’s success when she grew older. On many occasions it was said from across the dinner table that she wanted to study law at Harvard just like her father Eli. Sometimes though Christy had voiced that she felt guilty that it was because of her that her mother wasn’t around and that she prevented Eli from bigger things, but he proved that he wanted to spend time with her constantly and felt running for Mayor of D.C. or congress would mean campaigning more vigorously and thus less family time.
“As a legacy admission I should have a better chance right? I also want to work pro bono for a while like you, helping those less fortunate,” said Christy as she turned off the radio and began to quiz Eli on her educational options at Harvard once again.
“You should be fine as long you keep your grades up, I am going to miss you when you do go off to college though sweetheart,” Eli replied with a sad tone to his voice. “I always knew one day you would leave the nest, I just wish it was longer.” Now Christy couldn’t help but feel guilty at leaving her aging father all alone.
“Don’t worry I’ll visit you whenever I can and call you all the time as well,” she replied turning the radio back on hoping to put a quick end to the conversation she started because she had clearly upset him. Just before the car turned on to the terrace where their house was, the blue sedan still remained inconspicuous at a distance, Walker’s phone had begun to ring in his jacket pocket. As he reached for it and answered it was his personal secretary from the John A. Wilson Building where his office was. She was calling to let Eli know that he had left several important documents and summaries unsigned that finally needed to be archived.
“Ok, fine I’ll be there in half an hour,” Said Walker as he hung up his mobile when they arrived at his driveway, “I have to rush back to the office, I’ll just drop you off, you have the spare key I had made right?” He asked Christy who retrieved it out of her pocket to show him as she got out the car and walked towards the front door.
By the time Eli had reached the building that lay just two hundred feet from the White House, where he administered on a daily basis, the natural light had faded from the city which provided a fairy tale glow to the downtown Washington D.C. vista. The John A. Wilson building looked identical to the surrounding buildings, all designed with the same duplicate grey beige colour of stone but for a modern looking mosaic of office windows around the reverse side of the structure. He then drove to the rear of the building in his car to the underground parking area, having to pass through flashing his ID to the security gate, Eli quickly exited his car and stood waiting for one of the file room clerks in the afterglow of the yellow LED lighting that illuminated sections of the below ground multi-storey. As he waited there a few minutes the tall considerably sized figure of a man dressed all in black was skulking behind one of the nearby pillars watching Walker. He began to move slowly and silently from car to car following him, being careful not to trip any of the car alarms. Using the vehicles and the patches of darkness for cover, both hands garbed in thick black leather gloves, one hand was held behind his back concealing a large knife. The figure moved closer and closer still hidden in the shadows, Eli was left completely unaware of the mortal danger he was in and just stood against his parked car tapping a tune on the passenger side door as he leaned against it for support.
“Three...Two...One.” The man counted to himself with a deep intake of his breath as he quietly moved out of the shroud of darkness and walked with purpose ready to strike the councilman. “Three times in the back should be enough,” he thought as he moved ever nearer to his target. Just as the assailant was less than ten metres away, suddenly, the loud crash of the nearby emergency exit door closing could be heard as it echoed throughout the car park, it was Walker’s assistant carrying some files underneath his arm. The assassin quickly dove behind a nearby sports car and peered around the backside headlights of an SUV to see what was going on. Meanwhile, Eli had moved away from his car and approached the man, at which point another car could be heard entering the vicinity and pulled up in a nearby vacant space, the man’s chance had gone. The mysterious character knew that there could be no witnesses, he softly made his withdrawal over the railing into another section of the multi-storey and commenced with his escape into the blackness of the night. All the while councilman Eli Walker was unaware he was a marked man, as he said goodbye to his assistant who headed back up the emergency exit stairs. Eli trudged back to the driver side door of his BMW climbing in and turning the ignition. As he drove out of the exit of the underground parking structure making sure to flash his ID to security once again, he was left completely oblivious to how close he was to being fatally attacked and potentially becoming just another statistic for the system. Just then Walker’s phone started to vibrate in his jacket pocket as he drove along Pennsylvania Avenue, it was Harry,
“What do you want now O’Neill?” asked Walker in a condescending tone of voice.
“We have to do something, before someone finds out or he talks to someone,” replied Harry, he sounded panicked and was breathing heavily down the other end of the phone.
“Like I told you earlier, just leave it all alone, that was twenty years ago, besides, he wouldn’t have the guts to come after me,” Walker told Harry before pressing the end call button on his touch screen. Rather than going home Eli decided to make a quick trip to his favourite lounge. Mickey’s bar still located on the corner of 14th and Corcoran had become a beloved watering hole in the downtown D.C. area over the past twenty years and was still going strong, albeit now only more expensive for the beverages that were served and for a table. The shabby and sombre seating arrangement was replaced with a lavish and open new seating area. The walls a new shade of maroon with the stench of stale cigarettes and cigars no longer in the air as you breathe in thanks to the smoking laws. Eli casually sat at the bar almost looking out of place these days surrounded by the young flashy new clientele who made their money in a casual shirt selling software they had designed, making millions. As the bartender poured him his usual on the rocks, he immediately swallowed it with a look of deep contemplation on his face as the sound of loud thu
mping deep house music that replaced the classy jazz band bounced from wall to wall.
Chapter IV
The next morning as Ryan arrived at the station again on the chilly February morning ready for another day’s work with his disposable coffee cup in hand. Harry’s outburst was still strongly imprinted in his mind. Harry had always seemed so level headed and professional, it was a shock to see him act out in such a way. The last time Ryan saw him that angry was when he asked about his childhood several years earlier while they were both working another case together.
“It must have been something to do with the line up yesterday, something about that man made him flip a switch,” he thought to himself as he walked past his still empty office wondering if Harry would show up at all today. Concerned for his best friend Ryan decided to dig a little deeper hoping to help, the same way Harry helps Ryan with his demons seemingly on a weekly basis.
“Hey Simmons,” he shouted to one of the nearby lieutenants from his desk, “You arranged that line up for the Jamieson ID yesterday right?” Ryan then asked.
“Yeah, just found five who fit our profile and threw them in there,” Simmons replied emerging from behind his computer.
“Who was perp number five?” Ryan asked determined to know if he was the cause of the outburst, “had O’Neill all shook up.”
“Hmm, number five was… Ah here we go some piece of garbage fresh out of jail called Wayne Peterson,” Simmons answered flipping through several documents on his computer screen. “You know the guy?”
The Sins of a District Page 4
