Charlie-316

by Colin Conway

  “First, let’s be clear,” she said. “I’m the lead detective, and Detective McNutt is my second. Your role is strictly—”

  “—to observe and advise,” Clint interrupted. “I’ve read the protocol agreement. I’ll bet I know it better than you do.”

  Harris ground her teeth together, exhaling. She knew enough about Clint to know that he’d continue arguing as long as he could, and that he always had to be right. Therefore, she took the path of least resistance, and moved on. “The deceased is Todd Trotter. He’s got a long record with a fairly common pattern, starting with juvenile offenses, going from theft to burglary to dope. He—”

  “I know Trotter. What else?”

  Harris pointed to the patrol car. “Officer Garrett made a traffic stop on him here—”

  “I’m not asking you to tell me the obvious. Tell me what I don’t already know from simple observation.”

  “You know,” McNutt said, taking a half step toward Clint. “It’s unprofessional to interrupt. And rude.”

  “Do you really want to show off for her that bad?” Clint chuckled. “Son, the days of detectives throwing hands at a crime scene are long gone.”

  McNutt took another step toward him, growling something low and unintelligible.

  “Shaun!” Harris snapped. “I got this.”

  McNutt gave her a sidelong look and took a reluctant step back. Clint watched with an amused smile.

  “How about you let me brief you and don’t interrupt for two minutes?” Harris asked.

  Clint shrugged. “All right, then.”

  Harris ran down what she knew, keeping things concise and factual. Clint surprised her by remaining silent while she spoke. After she’d finished, he asked, “What’s your theory?”

  “I don’t have one yet.”

  He cocked his head again. “Of course, you do. What is it?”

  Harris shrugged. “It seems to be fairly obvious that it was an ambush.”

  Clint considered, then shook his head. “That theory stinks.”

  “Really?”

  “Like day old fish, yeah.”

  “How’s that?”

  Clint pointed at the car. “He was making a traffic stop. How could the ambushers control that, or whether it even happened?”

  “Easy,” Harris replied, “if the driver of the vehicle was in on the ambush.”

  “If,” Clint repeated.

  “Yes, if,” she said. “You might see a traffic stop as uncertain, but the driver of the vehicle being stopped controls where they stop. If the car was the lure, it could have led him here, stopped very purposefully at this location, and then the accomplices fired from the house.”

  Clint thought about it. “That’s a lot of ifs and a whole lot of wanting to make things fit. I think you’re already trying to bend the narrative to your theory. To me, it looks just as likely to be a crime of opportunity.”

  “Oh, really.” Harris couldn’t keep the contempt out her tone, even though she knew how unprofessional it sounded. “How’s that work, exactly?”

  “A couple of bangers or other hardcores hanging out in an empty house. Happens all the time.”

  She shrugged. He was right about that.

  “Garrett stops this car out front,” Clint continued, “and they see a chance to take a potshot at a cop. They probably didn’t even know the driver. Totally random.”

  “That’s your theory?”

  Clint smiled without humor. “No. It’s too early to be forming theories. All the same, it’s every bit as good as yours.”

  Harris stared at Clint for a long while. After a few moments, McNutt joined her, though his stare was decidedly more posturing than menacing. Clint just stared back, unflappable. She realized that this was going to be a long, painful investigation if she didn’t make sure Clint clearly understood his role early on.

  She also realized that if Clint was arguing with her about her theory, she was probably on the right track. That part made her happy.

  After a long silence, Clint finally motioned toward the dead body. “We gonna check under him for a gun or what? The pictures have all been taken.”

  Without a word, Harris knelt down next to the victim, avoiding the small pool of blood that had leaked out. The fact that it wasn’t bigger than it was told her that Garrett’s bullet had struck the man in the heart, and that it had stopped pumping almost immediately. All things aside, at the distance of fifteen, maybe even twenty yards, it was a hell of a shot.

  McNutt knelt on the other side, and together they rolled the body up on its side while Clint stood nearby, watching closely.

  All three stared for a long while, even though there was nothing there to look at. No gun, no knife, no wallet. No nothing.

  Harris lowered the body back down. She glanced up at McNutt, then at Clint.

  “Someone must have grabbed it,” McNutt said. “Right?”

  Clint didn’t answer him, and neither did she.

  “Come on,” Harris said instead. “Let’s keep working the scene.”

  Chapter 7

  Cody Lofton walked into the mayor’s office and dropped his notepad on the coffee table between the over-sized leather chair and the matching couch.

  He pulled out his phone and moved to the window overlooking Riverfront Park.

  He’d gotten a text message earlier from Dan Flowers. Got my ass handed to me for giving you a heads up.

  Lofton thought about his reply then typed. It meant a lot that you gave me the head start. Meeting with M in a few. Keep me in the loop.

  A couple moments later, Flowers responded, Drinks are on you next time.

  Lofton smiled and put his phone back in his pocket.

  As the sun broke the horizon, the city was coming to life. He watched as a few cars parked along the street and joggers ran through the park.

  He walked to the full-length mirror that stood in the opposite corner of the office, stood in front of it and turned sideways a couple times to admire himself.

  After his early morning call with the mayor, they scheduled a meeting at 5:30 a.m. It gave Lofton the opportunity to catch a couple hours of sleep in his apartment, a two-bedroom at The M which overlooked Riverfront Park. The apartments were highly sought after and his position as the mayor’s right hand worked in his favor as he was pushed to the top of the wait list. He showered, shaved, and put on a freshly laundered suit with white shirt. He spent extra time picking out his neckwear. He went with a David Fin navy & teal woven silk tie. It took him three attempts to get the knot and length exactly how he wanted it.

  He was guaranteed to be interviewed today and he would look his absolute best.

  Lofton ran his hand down the length of his tie and smiled as he watched the sun rise.

  Someday he would stand in this office and know it would be his.

  “Enjoying the view?”

  Lofton turned as Andrew Sikes, Spokane’s mayor, walked into the office.

  Sikes wore a Nike running suit and Adidas tennis shoes. His face was red from exertion and beads of sweat gathered on his forehead. He sucked on a red water bottle. When he was done, he said, “I was able to get a workout in.”

  “Sir?”

  “Today is going to go to hell, but I didn’t want to start the day off wrong.”

  “I’m sure the press will want to hear from you shortly. Did you bring a change of clothes with you?”

  Sikes nodded. “In my car. I’ll grab a shower when we’re done.”

  Lofton nodded, but inwardly cringed. Sikes was the people’s mayor, but he often took that vote of confidence too far. He’d won his first term by identifying with the masses, but he sometimes forgot that perception swayed easily on little things. For example, on the mornings he worked out, he tended to remain red-faced for most of the day. Of all days to skip a work-out, this would have been the one. Lofton was already imagining a red-faced mayor explaining an officer involved shooting. It would prese
nt a bad image even before the words were heard.

  “Where’s Amanda?”

  “She’ll be here any minute,” Lofton said. “Did you talk with the chief?”

  “Let’s wait for Amanda.” Sikes said, walking behind his desk. He dropped down into his chair and took another sip of water.

  “Sir, are we going to talk at your desk or on the couch?”

  “Here’s fine.”

  Lofton grabbed his pad of paper from the coffee table and walked to the mayor’s desk. He took the seat that gave him the best view of the mayor. The remaining seat would put Donahue slightly behind his computer monitor.

  Amanda Donahue was the mayor’s latest assistant, a twenty-seven-year-old that started a few months ago and was suddenly the center of attention. To his knowledge, the mayor wasn’t secretly seeing her, but it seemed Amanda was purposefully trying to make it happen both in how she looked and some of the things she would not-so-innocently say. She’d been an assistant at a local marketing company for a few years before transitioning to the mayor’s office. She had no prior government experience, but Lofton knew she had the one thing that he’d never have and the mayor loved being around it.

  “Sorry, I’m late,” Amanda announced as she hurried in.

  Like Lofton, she was dressed impeccably for this hour, but the way she looked would cause anyone to look twice. She wore a black mini-skirt suit with light blue blouse. Her layered bob haircut fell just below her chin. Her legs were high-lighted with new black high heels. Lofton did a double take on the shoes because they had red soles.

  She’s wearing Christian Louboutin, Lofton thought. Are you kidding me?

  Amanda caught him looking at her shoes and she smiled. She then considered the seating arrangement and faced the mayor.

  “Can we sit on the couch?” Amanda asked. “It’s more comfortable and besides I can’t see you very well from this chair.”

  The mayor pushed out of his seat. “Of course.”

  Amanda positioned herself next to the mayor on the couch. Lofton sat upright on the edge of his seat, his anger already welling. We’re here to discuss an officer involved shooting, Lofton thought, and she’s leading the mayor around by the nose. He realized his jealousy and pushed it down.

  Amanda pulled out her notepad and nodded to the mayor. “I’m ready when you are.”

  Sikes winked at her before turning to Lofton. “What have we got?”

  “You’ve talked with the chief and been briefed?”

  “Yes.”

  Amanda raised her hand.

  “Yes?”

  “I haven’t been briefed.”

  Lofton sighed.

  “Bring her up to speed, Cody.”

  Lofton nodded and retold the story as he knew it. Amanda quickly and proficiently made notes. For the next twenty minutes, she read back several sections until she had the story right. “Okay, I think I’ve got it.”

  “Where is Officer Garrett now?” Sikes asked.

  “He’s been put on three-day administrative leave.”

  Amanda asked, “Why do they do that?”

  Sikes leaned over to her, resting on an elbow, and smiled. “Whenever an officer is involved in a shooting, they get some additional time to go home before they’re interviewed. It’s part of the contract with the union.”

  Amanda looked to Lofton before returning her gaze to the mayor. “Is that fair?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If someone else was involved in a shooting, wouldn’t they have to answer questions right away?”

  The mayor shrugged. “Doesn’t matter if it’s fair. It’s the rules of the game.”

  Amanda nodded, accepting the mayor’s simple answer. When she looked down at her notepad, however, her expression remained dubious. It was obvious she didn’t like Sikes’s response.

  Lofton watched her briefly before continuing. “Anyway, we won’t have Garrett’s account of events until after seventy-two hours. We’re playing a waiting game.”

  “Chief Baumgartner instituted the OIS protocol, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “OIS?” Amanda asked.

  Lofton lowered his head. She was killing this process with her stupid questions.

  “Officer involved shooting,” the mayor said.

  “I’m sorry that I’m asking so many questions.”

  Sikes smiled. “It’s okay. You keep on asking.” Then he turned his attention to Lofton. “What do you know about the county’s investigators?”

  “I know their names. That’s about it.”

  “Find out more.”

  Lofton nodded.

  “Who is the department’s liaison in the investigation?”

  “Detective Clint.”

  Sikes nodded a couple times and then closed his eyes. When he opened them, he tilted his head. “Ward Clint? That conspiracy nut we have to deal with every time the wind changes direction?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Whose bright idea was it to assign Clint to this investigation?”

  “Chief Baumgartner,” Lofton said, distancing himself from his own recommendation.

  “Why would the chief select him? He’s had more heartburn with that guy than anybody. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “It does if you take a step back, sir.”

  Sikes was staring at Amanda’s legs when his eyes slowly went back to Lofton. “They picked Clint because he’s black?”

  “He is the only detective of that ethnicity on the department.”

  “That’s overtly racist,” Amanda said. “Is that the position we want to take as the city?”

  Sikes sat upright, taken aback by Donahue’s statement. “We’re not…racist.”

  “It’s not racist to assign Clint to the case,” Lofton agreed.

  “Yes, it is.”

  Lofton sneered. “Listen, until you know how things work, please keep your opinions in check.”

  Sikes looked between his chief of staff and his assistant. It was clear he was deciding who to back.

  Lofton continued, not giving any ground. “It’s not racist, sir. I talked with the chief about it and his plan made total sense. I completely support it.”

  “Plan?”

  “Detective Clint gives the department better options than a Caucasian detective would.”

  “How’s that?

  Amanda made notes while Lofton spoke.

  “First, it plays better for the media. If they see our detective on scene, it reflects better generally on who is investigating. Second, it paints a better picture for the affected community.”

  “Affected community,” Amanda muttered while making notes.

  “Seriously?”

  Amanda looked up. “What?”

  “We’ve worked very hard to create constructive dialogue with the black community. They’ll want to see one of their own as part of this investigation.”

  “One of their own,” Amanda repeated softly.

  “Oh my God, what is your problem?” Lofton asked.

  Amanda looked at the mayor and then Lofton. “Your attitude toward minorities is my problem,” she said. Lofton knew this was her time to go in for the kill. She was making a power play in front of the mayor, one he’d seen many times before. “I think you’re being racist. You’re handling this matter according to how it best serves you. You’re not thinking for one moment how this truly impacts the community as a whole or the African American community, in particular. I think we need to consider that this could have a damaging effect on them.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “No,” she said, a slight air of superiority coming from her as she sat a little straighter.

  “You walk in here with your seven-hundred-dollar shoes and your three-hundred-dollar haircut and you throw around your Ivy League idealism like it’s some sort of badge of honor,” Lofton said, his anger barely veiled. “Well, princess, I know exactly how this is
going to impact our community and that’s why I’m trying to get our boss out in front of it. My recommendation is you either get with the program or you take that little-girl naivety somewhere else because we’re getting nowhere with your interruptions. You’re part of the solution or you’re part of the problem. Which is it?”

  Amanda struggled to hold back her tears as Mayor Sikes watched her with a fascinated expression, as if wondering if she would cry. When she didn’t, he turned back to Lofton. “All right, Cody. You made your point. Clint it is. I won’t fight it. What else should we be aware of?”

  “Nothing at this stage, sir. We need to get you ready for a press conference. I’ll get it scheduled as soon as I run some ideas by you.”

  Amanda’s cell phone vibrated, and she turned it over. She read a text message and then looked around the mayor’s office. She stood and walked over to his desk, grabbing the television remote control.

  She turned to the flat screen TV on the wall and powered it on.

  “What are you doing?” Lofton asked.

  “I just got a message to turn on CNN. We’re on the news.”

  Scrolling on the bottom of the television banner was Spokane, WA - Black Police Officer Shoots White Motorist.

  “What the hell is that?” Lofton was out of his chair and standing in front of the television.

  “This is bad, isn’t it?” Amanda asked.

  “How did they get this so fast?” Sikes said.

  “They’re getting a local feed. That’s a local reporter. Turn it to FOX News,” Lofton said.

  Amanda pressed a couple buttons and the familiar news channel popped into view. Another news feed ran from a local channel, but the banner on the bottom of the screen was more inflammatory.

  Spokane, WA - Black Police Officer Guns Down White Victim.

  “Oh, Jesus,” Sikes said.

  The reporter stared into the camera, full of gravitas. “Another police related death this morning, this one happening here in Spokane, Washington, and on the heels of a questionable shooting in Philadelphia just days ago.”

  Cody blanched. He’d been so focused on the local angles of this shooting that he hadn’t considered national implications.