I watched him bounce the thought around for a bit. He seemed to buy the theory. “Why bury them and not the RRs?” he asked. “What’s the reason for making them public?”
“Katherine wanted revenge. She wanted to instill fear in the executives, let them know someone was after them.”
White nodded. “She’s been married to that psycho for some time. I wonder why she waited until now.”
“Maybe she didn’t know enough about them and needed time to track them down,” I offered.
“Sheesh, those two were a perfect match for each other. What are the odds?” White grabbed hold of his pants and tugged them up.
“You know, your 24/7 surveillance team should have picked up on this place.”
White’s eye’s narrowed in on me. “What are you getting at, Agent?”
“If that team had done their job, this place should have sounded the alarm.”
“You’re right.” The Lieutenant held up the notebook in his hands. “Maybe it would have led us to the Carters or this book sooner. For now, I’ll hang on to it.” He then shoved the notebook into his back pocket.
I opened my mouth to speak but stopped myself. White must have sensed what I was going to say.
“Let it be. It doesn’t matter now. It’s over. You can go home, and I can go back to counting the days to retirement.” White held his pleading stare until someone called out for him. Before walking away, he repeated what he had told me once already. “It’s bigger than you and me.”
82
The drive back to Detroit was long and arduous—lonesome, too, if I were to be honest. I missed sitting in the passenger seat while Wilkinson watched me fix my lipstick from the corner of his eye. I still had trouble believing he was gone. The mornings at the hotel were sad reminders. There were times I expected to see him in the lobby waiting with a coffee for him and a green tea for me. I wished he were.
There were a lot of things I wished I had done differently—like not playing hard to get for as long as I did, or saying yes to more of those late-night drinks. I wished I had taken him seriously sooner.
Since the murder of my husband, my social life had been scarce, like the ice age. I had almost forgotten what sex was like until that night with Wilkinson. Even though I hurt between my legs the next day, I had been ready for round two.
It’s not like I didn’t want to date after Peng’s death. There were plenty of opportunities, but it had felt like I would have been cheating on him. Wilkinson broke through, though. He helped me open myself up again. And now he was gone, too.
Since his death, I’d spent more time than I wanted lying awake in bed, thinking about what I could have done differently that night. There were a million ways we could have approached the situation. Would the outcome have changed? Perhaps. I try not to beat myself up about it. I could run multiple scenarios through my head that would lead to a positive outcome, but it wouldn’t be fair. With hindsight, one can always skew the results.
The truth was, the case was screwy from the start. The more I thought about the cover-up, the angrier I became, even though it had no direct affect on Wilkinson’s death. I wanted it to. It would be something I could blame.
I couldn’t shake it. How does a cover-up that big go unnoticed? A corrupt city, that’s how. Wild scenarios swam around inside my head. None of it made any sense. My imagination started to get the best of me.
Honestly, part of me didn’t want to know what had really happened. Finding out could result in career death. White was right; people much more powerful than the chiefs were involved.
• • •
I decided to stick around for a few more days to finish up my report at the central precinct. It wasn’t necessary to be in Detroit to finish; the only reason would be if I wanted to continue investigating the cover-up.
I still had access to the necessary case files and spent most of the day combing through them again, trying to glean anything I could, when I heard a knock on the office door. I looked up to find Reginald Reed standing there. “Chief Reed.”
He motioned for me to remain seated. “Don’t get up. I’m glad you’re still here. I wanted to personally thank you for all your help, Agent.”
“I wish I could echo your enthusiasm, but the loss of three good men dampens my spirits a bit.”
“I understand,” he said, pausing awkwardly. “I bet you’re eager to get back to your family.”
“I am, but I thought I’d wrap up my report here, while everything was still fresh in my head.”
Reed looked around the room. A few of the boxes were open, and case files lay strewn about my desk. One didn’t need to be a top-notch detective to see I wasn’t writing up my report.
“You’re being thorough with your report, I take it?”
Did he ask me a trick question? Reed had to know I didn’t need to plow through the case files for my report, at least not to the extent it appeared. I decided to play along with the top guy. “I am.”
“Good to hear. It’s important the facts are kept straight. I keep all my facts tucked away in my desk, left bottom drawer, in a manila folder marked ‘miscellaneous’.” Reed eyed me for a moment before turning around and leaving.
He couldn’t have been any clearer.
I hung around the precinct later than I had planned, late enough for the day shift to clock out, and more specifically, for Reed’s administrative assistant to leave. I had already done a walk-by past his office earlier, but the timing wasn’t right. There were too many uniforms milling around. Getting caught snooping in the big man’s sanctuary wasn’t something I wanted to explain to my superiors.
To kill time, I called Po Po to see how things were going and to let her know I would be home in couple of days. Our conversation was short, a struggle really to get beyond one-word answers. Luckily, Ryan and Lucy had come home from school, so I got to hear all about Lucy’s day.
“I painted a big dog and he was blue, and then I painted a flower and it was blue, and then I painted a sun and it was blue, and then I painted a caterpillar and he was blue…”
By my count, Lucy had painted a total of ten blue things at school. She went on to tell me about snack time; they had orange slices. My heart fell out of my chest as I listened to her. I could have been home now, walking her back from school and hearing about her day firsthand. But no, I had made the decision to pursue a case that, by all accounts, didn’t really matter anymore.
When I got off the phone, I headed straight to Reed’s office.
The coast looked clear. I reached for the knob. For a split second, doubt skipped around inside my head. Had I understood my conversation with the chief correctly? When the knob turned and I closed the door behind me, I knew I had heard exactly what he wanted me to hear.
I took a moment to survey the room before moving over to the desk. Left bottom drawer. I grabbed the handle, and even though I saw a lock on it, I knew it would be open.
Inside were a few hanging files. Lying on the bottom, I saw a manila folder labeled, “Misc.” Inside, I found a small leather-bound book. It was a diary. After flipping through a few pages, I realized Reed had kept a detailed account of all the monthly meetings he had with the mayor of Detroit, Leon Briggs.
83
I spent the next two hours holed up in Reed’s office reading everything he had written in the diary. Most of the questions I had about Garrison and his case were answered right here. Reed was very particular in his note taking. It was as if he knew one day someone would need to know what had happened.
It didn’t take long for me to realize the mayor really did run that city. Turns out very few people were allowed access to the information on Garrison’s case, but it didn’t stop Reed from writing it all down.
On numerous occasions, he pointed out the fact that no real evidence tied Garrison to the murders before the Comerica robbery. Reed knew, and so did the other chiefs at the table I had met when I first arrived. Even White knew. But they all ended up following the orders
of the mayor. That’s a lot of brass putting their butts on the line for one man. What was it about Mayor Briggs that had these men caving to these insane requests?
The discovery didn’t stop there. Further reading revealed the attorney general, the prosecutor for the city, and the defense for Garrison knew about the lack of evidence. Their job was to make sure the holes were closed.
It was unbelievable. I felt like I was trapped inside a wild crime novel. Never in a million years would I have suspected something like that could actually happen in real life. Movies? Sure. In the city of Detroit? Apparently.
It was getting late. I figured his office and desk would not be accessible the next day, or any day after for that matter, so I made sure I had all the information I needed. I took notes and snapped pictures but stopped short of taking anything. If I were to actually tackle the job of revealing the cover-up, common sense would say I would need his notes as evidence. That’s when I realized I was still unsure whether I wanted to create problems for myself. I followed my instincts and left the office.
I reached my hotel a little after nine. I had “Hot Bath” flashing like a neon sign in my head. I hoped it would help me think through the dilemma that had decided to toy with me.
I immediately got a bath going and removed my clothes. It felt good to feel the cool air against my skin. The humidity was one thing I would not miss. While I waited for the tub to fill, I poured myself a hefty serving of Jameson, neat. I let the first sip roll around my tongue for a bit—such a familiar and delicious taste. After a few swirls, I let it slip down my throat and warm my chest. That was the liquor’s way of telling me everything would work out. It always did.
It took a few more sips and a couple more swirls before the tub was filled. I eased myself into the warm waters until I felt my butt touch bottom. Nothing beats a bath. My favorite thing to do was point my toes forward and stretch my legs, triggering a full body quiver. I always followed that up with a yawn.
After a few minutes, I started considering my options—to pursue or not to pursue. That was the obvious elephant in the room. Even if I did decide to move forward, it didn’t mean I had to work it. I could just turn over the evidence and my report to my supervisor. Or I could push ahead like I normally would and deal with the fallout.
Now that I was aware of Mayor Briggs’ involvement, I had to decide whether to confront him. I didn’t feel the need to follow up with Reed at the moment, since he’d already given up the mayor. I suspected Briggs ordered the cover-up. Next up was to find out why.
That seemed to be the only question bouncing around in my head. Why risk so much to frame Garrison? Whatever it was, it had something to do with the mayor. Everyone else appeared to be following his orders; they were too scared not to. There were a lot of powerful people falling in line. They could have stood up to him. How big of a son of a bitch was that guy?
So Briggs convinced everyone to go along with the cover-up. Okay, everyone’s crooked. Fine, I’ll buy that. Money talks. But how did Briggs know it would work? How did he know the original killer would stop killing so his plan to frame Garrison could work? That’s when it hit me.
I jumped out of the tub and called White.
“This is Lieutenant White.”
“Lieutenant, it’s Agent Kane… He knew.”
“What are you talking about, Agent?”
“Briggs. He knew the Carters.”
84
That same night, Mayor Briggs was also twirling his thoughts around. He was busy figuring out what to do with Abby Kane.
Stevie and the mayor were tucked away in his office downing glasses of scotch while they did what they did best: schemed. When they heard Agent Kane had caught the killers and they were dead, they celebrated like everyone else. Why not? The big gorilla on their back had just climbed off. Mayor Briggs had waited a long time for that to happen, and he let himself enjoy it. But like most things in Detroit, the party didn’t last very long.
Instead of going home, like she should have, Agent Kane chose to stick around and poke her little head where it didn’t belong. She was officially more than an irritant.
“How can a person be so smart at one thing and fool at another?” Briggs asked out loud as he leaned back in his leather chair.
Stevie didn’t bother to answer; he knew his boss was just talking. And so long as he talked, the chief of staff listened. Enough time had passed. Stevie decided he had waited long enough and updated Briggs of Agent Kane’s situation. They had both thought she’d left Detroit, until Stevie heard otherwise.
“My sources told me she was at central all day. That’s not all, though.”
Briggs turned to Stevie with an arch in his eyebrow sharp enough to poke an eye out. “What? Spit it out.”
“I heard she spent time in Reed’s office tonight.”
“He talked?”
“He wasn’t there, but I wouldn’t put it past Reed to have left something out for her to find. That meticulous motherfucker is a liability. Always was. Should have buried his ass a long time ago.”
Briggs shifted his eyes toward Stevie. “You know I needed him to make this happen.”
Stevie sat up in his chair. “Nigga ain’t worth shit now.”
“He needs to be dealt with, but my concern is with the woman. She’s too close to the stove. Fuck if I’mma get burned.”
“What’s the plan, boss?” Stevie asked as he fingered the rim of his glass.
The mayor leaned back into his chair and took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. He was dealing with an FBI agent. She didn’t fall under his command or take orders from the head of the local FBI office. It was hard enough getting Special Agent Tully on board, but Briggs knew all those years of giving that man freebie jaunts to Windsor, Canada for nights in the casinos and the high-end brothels would pay off.
That was how Briggs had operated for as long as anyone could remember. He would work to win over anyone who had any cachet until they owed him. There were holdouts, though, Reed being one of them.
Briggs had wanted to appoint Reed to the top position of chief of police for a while. The job would have been the silver lining in a long career in law enforcement, and Reed wanted it—but he didn’t want the baggage that came with it.
Of course, the mayor realized if he gave Reed the job, it wouldn’t be enough to secure his unwavering loyalty to do his bidding without question. No, no, no. He needed a hook. Reed would need to owe him for a long time. When Mayor Briggs found out about Reed’s sick wife, he didn’t send flowers. Instead, he wiped out the $250,000 dollar balance at the hospital and then sweetened the pot with a $100,000 credit for future treatments, anonymously of course.
It didn’t take Reed long to realize what had happened. He had taken the bait just like was expected, and now, he was hooked.
Reed stopped fighting and gave in. They all did eventually. Everyone in the city was a friend of the mayor, and they all wished he were dead. Somehow and someway, Briggs had flipped every single one of them, and now he owned them.
Simply put, Mayor Briggs had the city by the balls. And he enjoyed squeezing them.
85
White reluctantly agreed to meet me in the lounge area of my hotel.
“Care to elaborate?” White asked, drink already in hand. I watched him slide into the oversized lounge chair and let out a long breath. The precinct was a ten-minute walk away, yet White acted like he had to climb Mt. Hood to meet me.
I ignored his antics and continued where I had left off earlier. “Briggs had to have known the Carters. It’s the only way he could guarantee the Garrison cover-up would work. It makes no sense to bully everyone into going along with his plan if it wouldn’t work.”
“Whoa, wait a minute here. You’re saying Leon Briggs, the mayor of Detroit, was friendly with a couple of serial killers?”
“Put your hands down and cut the dramatics,” I told him. “You know damn well what I’m saying.”
White’s flat expression hu
ng steady on his face. I had come on strong, but I was tired of dancing around the bush. He needed to stop hindering the investigation and just get on board. “It makes sense,” I said, raising my glass at him. “You know it does.”
White remained silent. He looked dumbstruck. Apparently, I had rung the truth bell.
“Did you know?” I asked.
White licked his lips.
“Do you honestly believe Briggs would pal around with a pair of murdering psychopaths?”
I didn’t bother to answer him. I didn’t feel the need to repeat myself.
White rubbed his hands together. His face grew tight. “Let me tell you a little about our mayor. He has got a grip on this city like no other.”
“What do you mean? He tells everyone what to do?”
“That’s a pretty good way to put it. I already know your next question, so I’ll go ahead and answer it. The few that challenged him…” White shook his head, “they just up and disappeared. Ain’t been seen for years.”
“So if you’re not with the mayor, you’re against him.”
White nodded. “We all learned not to question. People accepted the situation they were in, and when asked to do something, they did it. After Garrison was put away, the murders stopped. Whatever questions we had went away. Those who might have known, the surveillance team, they’re dead. Whatever answers they had to your questions they took to their graves.”
“You just admitted that Garrison was framed.”
White smiled and finished the last of his drink.
“So it’s also possible the surveillance team knew more than what you or others were led to believe?”
White nodded as he crunched on an ice cube.
“Well, that explains why you didn’t know about the property up north.”
“Exactly. We didn’t even know the hostages’ names. That’s how secretive it was.”
Corktown Page 19
