Charlie-316

by Colin Conway

  Baumgartner sat on the edge of the couch, his back straight. He looked directly at the mayor, not answering.

  “Well?”

  “I already told you we don’t know anything about this video. We’re tracking it down.”

  Red blotches on the mayor’s checks formed. “How did this video get by your guys, Chief? Aren’t you supposed to be Spokane’s Finest?”

  Lofton remained impassive, but he winced at that. Sikes was throwing verbal jabs today without thinking. It started last night when he yelled at Lofton. He’d never seen the mayor come unglued like that. However, the mayor had never been through anything like the Garrett situation. No one in this city had. Other, lesser controversies had happened on the previous mayor’s watch, and while Sikes rode the wave of dissatisfaction they caused, in truth, they were minor league compared to what was happening now.

  “Not everyone talks with us,” the chief said. “Some people are looking for their own fifteen minutes of fame or to make a quick buck. We’ll get the video and when we do, we’ll know if there is more to the story.”

  Sikes looked to Lofton. “I hope you had plenty of time to think about this last night while I was at that goddamn ballpark.”

  “Was it a good game?” Lofton asked, purposefully testing the waters.

  Sikes stiffened, a reaction that Chief Baumgartner caught and watched with curiosity.

  “The game was fine.”

  “The kids had a nice time? Did they like the surprise?”

  “Yes,” the mayor said, curtly. “It was nice for them.”

  Baumgartner glanced at Lofton who said, “The mayor took his family to an Indians game last night,” Lofton told him. “I arranged for Otto, the mascot, to visit them and bring autographed baseballs from the team.”

  The chief smiled, bemused. It was becoming well-known that the mayor wasn’t a fan of sports or family outings. He must have hated the evening.

  “I blame you,” Sikes said, his lip curling.

  Lofton nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “If you had stayed out of it, we wouldn’t be involved.”

  “Okay, sir,” Lofton said, realizing he wasn’t talking about the ballgame.

  The red blotches had fully formed and flushed his face. The mayor raised his voice, “I could have controlled this situation if it wasn’t for you.”

  “I understand.” Lofton’s calm voice was having the opposite effect on the mayor.

  “You should have seen it coming!”

  Baumgartner glanced at Lofton with the same look of surprise Amanda had given him yesterday.

  “This is your fault, Cody.”

  Lofton remained quiet. Baumgartner lowered his eyes then, not wanting to attract the mayor’s attention.

  Sikes looked between the two of them, his breathing ragged. He focused back on Lofton. “What should we do?” he asked finally.

  “I don’t know,” Lofton said.

  “What?”

  “You’ve told me this is my mess, sir. Maybe my suggestions are wrong.”

  Sikes leaned back, watching Lofton with suspicion. “Yesterday, you said we need to sacrifice Garrett. Do you still think that?”

  Lofton shrugged. “You know, I’m not really sure anymore.”

  Sikes looked to Chief Baumgartner, who said quickly, “We’re suspending Garrett pending the criminal investigations into his assault and the drugs.”

  “Will the union let you do that?” the mayor asked. “He hasn’t been found guilty of anything yet.”

  Lofton winced internally at the question. The mayor never was a detail guy.

  “It’s not punishment. It’s an administrative suspension,” Baumgartner explained. “He’s off but with pay. The union has no say in the matter as long as we’re actively investigating his conduct.”

  The mayor turned back to Lofton. “How will that play?”

  Lofton squinted and looked to the ceiling, as if he was struggling to contemplate a thought. “Okay, I think?”

  Sikes slapped the arm of his chair with all of his force. “Damn it, Cody!” he yelled. “Quit fucking around. I need your help!”

  Lofton stared at him and let his last four words hang in the air.

  Sikes realized what he had said, and he repeated them more calmly. “I need your help.”

  Lofton nodded and pretended to think, but it was only for show. He already knew the plan the moment he saw the video of Ty Garrett assaulting the two men on national television. Once he heard the outcry and saw the way the winds were blowing on social media, there was only one thing to do. “Embrace the video,” he said finally.

  “What the shit?” Baumgartner blurted.

  Sikes held his hand up to the chief. “Explain, Cody.”

  “Everyone is going to expect you to distance yourself from this video,” Lofton said. “Don’t. Call a press conference immediately. Announce the suspension as the chief has suggested and then publicly thank the maker of the video.”

  “We don’t want to encourage more people making videos,” Baumgartner said.

  “Why not?” Lofton challenged.

  “Yeah, Chief, why not?” Sikes said, turning on the chief. “I want my officers out there with honor and integrity. Hopefully, more videos will show that.”

  Baumgartner smirked. “They won’t.”

  “Why? Do you only employ crooked cops? Are ethics something lacking on this department? Should I contemplate a leadership change?”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Baumgartner bristled. “My cops are good, dedicated cops. I meant that people will only take videos of officers when they think they’re doing something wrong.”

  “Great,” Lofton said. “Let them. That’s part of the message you should deliver, sir. The other part is to take videos of the other two hundred plus good officers out there doing good things. Let’s heal this community by showing good works.”

  “Let’s plant a rose in a pile of shit, so to speak,” Sikes said.

  “Exactly,” Lofton said, nodding.

  “And Garrett?”

  “He’s on his own. Let’s see how this plays.”

  Baumgartner shook his head in disgust.

  “You don’t approve, Chief?” Lofton asked.

  “No, I think that—”

  “I don’t give a damn what you think right now,” the mayor said. He turned his attention to Lofton. “Cody, how do we proceed?”

  Lofton experienced a sense of satisfaction. He tried to keep the sound of it from his voice. “Chief, can your people find the maker of this video by this afternoon? It shouldn’t be hard by watching it again. Should only be a few houses. Let’s get that person in here as part of the press conference and publicly thank them for helping keep a watch on our city. Let’s make this an issue bigger than Ty Garrett. Let’s make this about watching out for each other.”

  Baumgartner lowered his head, but Sikes was nodding. He saw the possibilities. “We can spin this into an uplifting message then. Something like I am my brother’s keeper.”

  Lofton nodded. “Exactly, but maybe we should work on a better slogan.”

  Chapter 28

  “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice full of concern.

  “I’m holding up,” Ty Garrett said, pressing the telephone receiver into his ear. He was in the holding area of the county jail. The jailers had cleared the area to allow him to use the telephone. The staff had been more than accommodating to Garrett, a professional courtesy as they’d worked together for many years. No one could believe he was on this side of the line, including Garrett.

  “How did this happen?” Angie said.

  Garrett leaned against the wall. “I’m still trying to figure that out. I was attacked by two men—”

  “I saw the video.”

  “There’s a video?” Garrett said. “What video?”

  “Someone recorded your fight with a cell phone.”

  “That’s good,” he said, t
apping the wall, excitedly. “It’ll prove I’m innocent then.”

  “It doesn’t look so good, baby.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well…”

  “Just tell me, Ang. They’ve got me in solitary. I’ve got no access to television or the internet, right now.”

  “The video starts in the middle of the fight. Then…” Her voice trailed off.

  Garrett replayed the fight in his head. “Damn,” he muttered.

  “You looked wild in that video. I was scared of what I saw.”

  “Why would you be scared?”

  “I’ve never seen you like that before.”

  “I’ve never been attacked like that before. I was fighting for my life and my family,” Garrett said.

  “They said you’ve been arrested for drugs.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Where did the drugs come from?”

  “I don’t know. They were under the bathroom sink.”

  “Under our sink?” Anger burst through her voice. “How did they get there?”

  Garrett shrugged. “Someone must have gotten in somehow.”

  “Someone was inside our house?” Angie yelled. “A stranger was inside my home?”

  “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  “You don’t sound so sure. They weren’t your drugs, were they?”

  “No! Are you kidding me?” Garrett gripped the phone tighter.

  “Don’t you raise your voice at me, Tyler Garrett. I didn’t do anything wrong.” Angie was hysterical now. “I’m two hours away from our home and you tell me that someone planted drugs inside my bathroom. The bathroom where I bathe our children. I want to know what the hell is going on up there. What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into?”

  “I’m not into anything, baby.”

  “Then why in the world would someone plant drugs in our house? It doesn’t make any sense. You see that, right?”

  Garrett took a deep breath before answering. “Angie, I’ve been thinking about it non-stop. Nothing makes sense anymore. The only thing that I can even point to is the guy I shot, Trotter. He must have been connected. I must have crossed the wrong person by shooting him. If that’s not it, then I don’t know what I did to deserve what’s happening. Everything is crashing down on me now.”

  The phone was silent for a few seconds before Angie softly asked, “How long are you going to be in there?”

  “No idea. Please stay with your folks until we get this figured out, okay? I don’t want you coming home until I’m there. Not after those two guys.”

  “Okay,” she said, her voice returning to normal.

  “Hey, baby, the guard is giving me the signal to wrap this up. I’ve got to go. I love you. Tell the kids I love them.”

  “I love you,” Angie said.

  Garrett hung up and turned around.

  The jailer, a big country boy who went by the nickname Tater, waited for him to gather himself. After a minute, Garrett rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and walked over. “I appreciate you clearing the area for me to make a call, Tater.”

  “You’re good people, Ty. We don’t know what’s going on out there, but you’ve always been straight with us. We’ll take care of you in here.”

  Garrett patted Tater’s arm in appreciation.

  “Let’s go,” Tater said, softly.

  Due to Garrett’s law enforcement status, he was being kept in isolation. Everyone knew the potential danger because of his employment history. As they walked down the hall, a lone inmate with a large dust mop was sweeping the floor. “Against the wall,” Tater commanded, his voice leaving no room for doubt that if it wasn’t obeyed there would be ramifications.

  The inmate, a large Hispanic, immediately did as commanded. Spider-web tattoos ran around his neck and his dark hair was slicked back. He watched Garrett closely. Tater focused on the inmate and Garrett sensed the jailer’s tension. As they approached, the inmate slowly stuck out a balled-up fist and nodded. It was not a sign of aggression, so Tater didn’t reprimand him.

  As they passed, Garrett fist-bumped the inmate and nodded back.

  Tater looked over his shoulder a couple times as they continued down the hall. He finally looked at Garrett and asked, “What the hell was that about?”

  “No idea,” Garrett said with a shrug, “but if a guy wants to be my friend in here, I’ll let him.”

  Chapter 29

  Detective Clint pulled to a stop, positioning his Crown Victoria as close as he could to the location of Ty Garrett’s patrol vehicle the night of the shooting. He got out and stood in the open doorway of his car, surveying the scene. As he did, he drew on his memory of the night of the initial investigation, then glanced down at his own diagram for verification.

  This was it.

  He swept the field of vision, noting how different it looked in the daylight. The backdrop Ty Garrett had when he fired at Trotter consisted of houses. Clint felt some relief that Garrett had only fired twice in that direction, at least according to his tactical debrief with Lieutenant Flowers. Harris had accounted for both rounds. One was in Trotter’s body and the other one shattered into the dashboard of the Chrysler.

  Turning slowly to the right, he surveyed the scene until his eyes came to rest on the house from which Garrett said shots had emanated. Clint believed two shooters was most likely. Contrary to what he’d told Harris, Garrett had given him a brief, unofficial account of the shooting before the corrections officer had returned to take him back to his cell. The cavalcade of shots Garrett described sounded more like one burst from two shooters than two separate bursts from one shooter.

  Two people, by definition, meant a conspiracy.

  Even more so if Trotter was involved. Shaking down his known associates wasn’t likely to accomplish anything. Even if someone knew Trotter was involved, no one was going to admit it. There was no incentive. Trotter was dead. He couldn’t talk, and everybody knew it. Keeping your mouth shut is the golden rule in the criminal world. If a detective is going to convince someone to violate that code, it would take considerable evidence. With no chance that Trotter was talking, Clint didn’t see where Harris had any kind of leverage to use.

  Still, Clint knew Harris was right to run down those loose ends. He also meant what he’d said about being nimble when it came to an investigation. Going by the book just because it was the book was being a slave to the system instead of a free thinker. With things heating up around Garrett, Clint was worried they might not be able to get a clean interview if they didn’t do it soon. He knew that if he was Garrett, he’d be thinking seriously about not talking to anyone about anything. It was clear that something was going on and forces were aligning against Garrett. Harris and her strict adherence to policy wasn’t helping. His own police department had just arrested him. Clint fully expected the next step would be the admin and city hall would hang Garrett out to dry as a political, sacrificial lamb.

  Why attack Ty Garrett? Clint wondered. Or, was he onto something when he first thought it was a crime of opportunity? Maybe the location was planned, the shooting was planned, but Garrett was just the unlucky patrol car that Trotter came across first and then led to the ambush. Was this part of the war on police that had been building for years? Or did they target Garrett specifically?

  He thought about that, right back to his first question. If Garrett was the specific target, then why? Because of something he’d done on the job? Clint thought of the many men and a few women that he’d arrested over the years, and the ones he’d sent to prison. Revenge was a very prevalent motivator in people, at least based upon what he’d seen in his years on the job.

  He knew he couldn’t rule out straight up racism, either. Spokane wasn’t the Deep South, full of institutional, overt racism but there was a different kind of hate that lived here. Clint called it ninja racism, because it blended in most of the time. But when there was a chance for it to come out
, the impact was just as powerful as the more open kind. In his mind, it was entirely probable that the men who attacked Garrett while he was on his run were motivated by their racial hatred. For years, North Idaho had been a beacon for groups urging racial purity. They set up camp in Hayden, less than an hour northeast of Spokane. That was the connection he thought Harris and McNutt ought to be looking at more closely. Who were those two? Maybe they were the shooters and decided to finish the job with a club instead of a gun. Yeah, it was goddamn stupid, but it made a sort of sense, didn’t it?

  Clint wondered if those two had any connection to Trotter. That would be worth exploring.

  He stopped halfway up the walk to the house. The door would be locked again, and he didn’t feel like breaking in just to look around. Maybe he’d ask Harris to meet him here, so they could walk through it together, sometime after she finally interviewed Garrett. If she and her Wonder Twin could break away from interviewing John and Mary Homeowner, who he doubted more and more had any involvement at all.

  His gaze drifted to the small realty sign standing off to the side of the walkway. Kayla Trent Sells Homes! it read. He smiled.

  Tri-Mark Realty took up the first floor of a downtown building. A swarm of real estate agents bustled around the office. A couple of them looked his way with a predatory anticipation when he walked in. Clint felt their appraisal as they seemed to be considering whether he was a fish to land or not. When he badged the receptionist, they immediately lost interest.

  “Detective Clint,” he said to her. “I’m looking for one of your realtors.”

  “Certainly. Who are you looking for?”

  “Kayla Trent.”

  The young woman behind the desk smiled at him. “Of course, but I think she’s at lunch with her boyfriend already. Were you supposed to meet them or something?”

  Clint gave her a blank look. “Why do you say that?”

  “Oh,” she said, slightly taken aback. “I guess I just thought that since you were…never mind.”

  “No, it’s all right. What did you think?”