by Colin Conway
“The one you shot Talbott with. And Ocampo.”
“You just do not give up. I told you, I didn’t shoot Talbott, and I don’t know this other dude you keep talking about.”
“The gun is your only way out,” Clint said. “If you give up the gun, it shows remorse. It shows cooperation. If Talbott was truly self-defense, then so be it. Maybe there was an element of self-defense at Ocampo’s place, too. I’m willing to accept that, but you’ve got to tell me. You’ve got to give up the gun, to prove it’s all real.”
Garrett stared at him for such a long while that Clint began to wonder if he’d finally broken through to the man. Then Garrett leaned back in his chair and shook his head mournfully. “Man, you really don’t know what is real, do you? You come in here, weaving all these wild conspiracies…I’m starting to wonder if you were in on all of it.”
“All of what?”
Garrett swept his hand slowly across the tabletop. “The whole thing. Whatever it was that somebody was planning against me. The ambush. The attack by those racist rednecks. The planting of drugs in my home.”
“That’s crazy.”
“I might have thought so, too. I see it differently now, the way you’re coming at me like this. Maybe that’s why you got close to me. Not to help me, but to see if the plan was working. To keep tabs on me. If that’s so…” Garrett shook his head. “Well, using the fact that we’re both black men to work me like that is just shameful, brother. Worse than that. Despicable.”
Clint sat back in his chair, incredulous. The absolute, shameless balls on this guy, he thought.
“Keep on spinning your crazy conspiracy theories,” Garrett continued. “All you do is prove my point.”
Clint cleared his throat. “I have a witness.”
“You said that. Your witnesses are bullshit.”
“At Ocampo’s. I’ve got a witness that saw you enter, heard shots, and saw you leave.”
“Hell, you say,” Garrett said, but Clint saw a flicker of concern flash across his face. It gave him heart.
He pulled out a copy he’d made of the photo montage Nona Henry had viewed to identify Garrett. He unfolded the paper, laid it out in front of Garrett and smoothed it flat.
Garrett didn’t look at it right away. Instead, he studied Clint’s face for a long moment. Then he leaned forward and examined the paper. It didn’t take long for his concerned expression to melt away.
“That’s weak,” he said. “My lawyer is Pamela Wei. You know her? She’ll tear that to shreds.”
“It’s a positive identification.”
“With me in the number five position? Even us patrol mopes know that’s the money spot. And those other brothers? They look nothing like me.” He shook his head. “Nuh-uh. You got someone to pick out the most different looking face on the page who just happened to be perfectly placed? A face that’s been all over TV for the better part of a week? Like I said, my lawyer chews that up.”
“Maybe she tries,” Clint said, encouraged that he wasn’t denying his presence at Ocampo’s anymore but attacking the identification. In Clint’s experience, that was almost a tacit admission of guilt. “I’ve got a solid citizen who will get up on the stand and tell the world that you went into that house, blasted away four people, and walked out again. That’s life without parole, at best. Most likely the needle.”
A small trickle of sweat appeared on Garrett’s scalp and ran down behind his ear. He ignored it, but Clint noticed. It gave him even more resolve.
“The only way to mitigate all that is to tell me the truth. Today. Give up the gun.”
Garrett leaned forward and looked at the photo montage again. “That signature looks shaky to me. Like an old person wrote it.” He looked up at Clint. “Is this really the best you’ve got to frame me with? A circle around a black man? Probably made by an old white lady whose generation thought the word ‘Negro’ was polite. I mean, normally, you would have a heyday with some bullshit like that. Now you’re stuffing that in my face like it’s supposed to mean something?” He shook his head in disgust. “It doesn’t mean a thing, and you know it.”
“You were there.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Then how did you know my witness was an old woman?”
He shrugged. “I had a fifty-fifty shot. Why? Was it some old man instead? Same thing applies. You’re trying to pin this on me with some weak ass shit, and it’s all lies. Listen to me.” He punctuated each word. “I. Was. Not. There.”
Clint sank back in his chair, feeling defeated. His strategy had been to go straight at Garrett, to speak to his pragmatism on the one hand and use the emotion of the children to reinforce his proposed route of confession. He had failed.
“They’ll find DNA,” he said, finally. “At Ocampo’s.”
“I doubt that, unless they do me like O.J.”
Clint gaped at him. “That motherfucker was guilty.”
“Yet they still felt like they had to plant shit, just to make sure.”
Clint didn’t have a reply. He couldn’t imagine a cop alive who would believe this. An instant later, he realized Garrett didn’t, either. He was just running his game.
“You want to talk about things they might find,” Garrett said. “What do you want to bet they find drugs when they search Pomeroy’s house? I think he was dirty. He always gave off that vibe. Him and Talbott both.”
Clint shook his head slowly. “You son of a bitch.”
Garrett seemed to be suppressing a smile as he turned his face to the ceiling camera and waved both arms slowly over his head.
“I’m going to get you,” Clint said quietly. “You know that, don’t you?”
Garrett didn’t reply immediately. When the lock in the door buzzed open, he stood up and proffered his wrists to Tater. He looked at Clint while the corrections officer loosely ratcheted on the transport cuffs.
“You know that, right?” Clint repeated.
Garrett affected a look of pity. “What I know is you’ve got to stop chasing shadows and black helicopters at the tree line, brother. Get some professional help. Or retire. Your game is getting slow.”
Clint watched him go.
“You son of a bitch,” he repeated.
Chapter 53
After the dressing down by the mayor, Cody Lofton decided to take matters into his own hands. He wanted to know where everything stood for himself.
He held off calling Chief Baumgartner to “yank his chain” as the mayor had requested. Instead, he tracked down the district attorney, Arthur Tuck, to ask where he stood with the Ty Garrett investigation.
Amanda sat across on the other side of his desk. Her eyes were wide, and her lips parted as she watched him. His heart raced, and he never once thought it was the look she gave anyone else. He convinced himself it was the look she gave him alone.
Lofton shook himself to reality when a voice came on the telephone.
“Arthur Tuck.”
“Artie, it’s Cody Lofton. How are you?”
“I’m good, my friend. How are things in your world?”
“I’m great. I just met the most fascinating woman,” he said, and Amanda smiled at him.
“Cody, when aren’t you meeting the most fascinating women?”
Lofton changed gears and asked, “Hey, Artie, where are you with the Garrett thing?”
“That’s what it takes to get a phone call from you these days? Well, as luck would have it, the lead detective on that case emailed me last night. She said they were finished with their investigation and would finalize the report today. I expect to have it tomorrow.”
Lofton closed his eyes and thought. He quickly opened his eyes and asked, “Do you think you could come down and give us a status on where this is at? We’ve taken a lot of heat over the last week and we’re trying to do some damage control.”
Tuck let out a small laugh. “I’ll bet you are. You guys have been getting massacred in the
press. I’m sure Sikes is watching his reelection bid go up in smoke.”
“Something like that. You’ve been a big supporter of the mayor in the past. Can I call in a favor?”
“Yeah. I’ll make it happen.”
Amanda smirked. “What’s with this meeting? There isn’t anything on the mayor’s schedule.”
“Trust me.”
Lofton then called the sheriff’s department and learned that the sheriff was at a Boy Scout retreat for a four-day weekend with his son. Lofton smiled. That got him one step closer to his next goal.
He texted Lieutenant Dan Flowers a question. Five minutes later the response arrived.
Det. Cassidy Harris—509-555-2314
She answered on the third ring.
“This is Harris.”
“Cassidy, you don’t know me, I’m Cody Lofton. Chief of staff for Mayor Sikes, City of Spokane.”
“How’d you get my number?” Her voice was full of suspicion.
“Dan Flowers gave it to me. Do you know Dan?”
“SPD Lieutenant. I know him.”
“Dan’s a friend. I asked him to put me in touch with you. I hope that was okay.”
“What do you want, Mr. Lofton?”
“I’m sure you’ve seen the news coverage lately. It’s not shown our city in a favorable light.”
“No, it hasn’t.”
“Cassidy, we’re trying to determine a course of action going forward and part of that is getting ahead of things. I just got off the phone with D.A. Tuck who said you’re going to send your findings to him shortly.”
“I’m not at liberty to talk about that with you.”
“I understand. What I’d like to ask is for you to join us this afternoon for a meeting.”
“I won’t be swayed to change my opinion, one way or the other.”
Lofton’s heart raced. Did that mean she had found Garrett culpable in some manner? That would be terrible for the city and the administration. Lofton pushed on. “That’s not what we’re asking, Cassidy. We just want to ask some questions, so we know how to prepare for this. Artie Tuck will be there. So, will Chief Baumgartner. I wanted the Sheriff to join us but he’s at a Boy Scout retreat with his son.”
“Yeah, we’d heard that,” Harris chuckled.
“Why is that funny?”
“I was imagining him in a Boy Scout outfit.”
Lofton laughed with her even though he couldn’t find the humor in it.
“What do you say, Cassidy?”
“Stop calling me Cassidy.”
“I’m sorry, Detective Harris,” Lofton said, hoping to save the call.
“Cassie is fine,” she said. “If Artie is going to be there, I’ll make the meeting. On one condition.”
“Name it.”
“You don’t invite Wardell Clint.”
Getting the chief to attend the meeting was easy.
“Artie Tuck and the county’s detectives will be there,” Lofton said.
“How’d you get them to attend?”
“I asked nicely.”
“Sure,” Baumgartner said, disbelief in his voice.
Once he got him over the hump, the chief offered up the conference room at the police station. “It will be easier for the detectives to find. Tuck knows how to get here as well.”
Lofton said, “I’m all for it, chief, but let me ask you this. If I tell the mayor we’re doing this in your conference room, what will he say?”
Baumgartner huffed. “He’d say change it to yours.”
“Exactly. Thanks for understanding. Can I ask a favor?”
“What’s that?”
“Detective Clint can’t be anywhere near this meeting.”
Baumgartner never asked why before agreeing.
The mayor didn’t take the news of the meeting as well.
“What the fuck?”
“A meeting was scheduled with the D.A. and the county detectives to get a briefing on their investigation. They’re going to release their findings to the D.A. as early as tomorrow. The chief wants to get ahead of the curve.”
“What is the bastard up to?” Sikes said, walking back and forth behind his desk.
Lofton shrugged.
“What time is the meeting set for?”
“Two o’clock.”
Sikes sneered and put his hands on his hips. Lofton couldn’t tell if the sneer was meant for him or for the chief. In the end, it didn’t really matter.
“What if I already had a meeting scheduled?”
Lofton smirked. “I think your invitation was an afterthought.”
Sikes’ eyes widened and then he slapped his hands in anger. “I should have been his first invitation. He does know I’m the mayor, right?”
“Yes, sir, I believe he does.”
“Where is this meeting taking place?”
“The conference room at the police station.”
Sikes stabbed a finger at him. “Bullshit. You make sure that meeting happens here on our turf.”
“Sir, he’s already got everybody coming to the station.”
“I don’t give a shit,” the mayor yelled. “I want the meeting here. Show me you can make that happen, buddy boy. Let me know I can still place my trust in you.”
Lofton nodded and walked out.
Amanda was leaning against the wall outside the mayor’s office. She had listened to the entire conversation. She shook her head and smiled. “Nice work, Br’er Rabbit. I see Br’er Fox just threw you into the briar patch.”
“Yes,” Lofton agreed. “Now the trick is getting out.”
Cody Lofton escorted Artie Tuck into the conference room on the seventh floor. Detectives Cassidy Harris and Shaun McNutt were already seated at the table. Both of them had notebooks in front of them.
Lofton turned and almost ran head-on into Chief Baumgartner. He’d brought Captain Farrell with him. Farrell commanded all SPD investigators, so it made sense to have him there, although it was starting to look like an inquisition board for the county detectives.
“Chief, can I have a moment?”
Baumgartner nodded, and they stepped off to the side.
“I’m sorry for what’s been occurring lately.”
The chief shrugged. “It’s part of the territory. The media eats this stuff up.”
“I’m not talking about that. I was referring to the political struggle that’s been going on.”
Baumgartner’s eyes narrowed.
“The mayor has been under a lot of pressure this past week. I don’t think he’s handled it as well as he should.”
The big man gnawed on his lip, thinking.
“I think he was tough on you several times when it was unnecessary. He had plenty of opportunities to take a step back but instead he pressed forward to the detriment of several people, including you. He put me in a position with you that I deeply regret. I wanted to apologize for that.”
Amanda Donahue walked up to them but stopped several feet back out of the chief’s view. She had a notebook in her hand.
Baumgartner asked, “Whatever intrigue you’re trying to drag me into, Lofton, leave me out.”
Lofton tilted his head. “What?”
“I know you and the games you play. You’re setting me up for something and I’m not going to have it. I serve at the pleasure of the mayor—”
“The council would—”
“Those pussies won’t do anything. This is the first real strong mayor we’ve had, and I support him. I know where my bread is buttered. It seems like you forgot that.”
“I haven’t forgot.”
“I value loyalty over ambition,” he said before turning. He saw Amanda, nodded and then headed into the conference room.
Amanda stepped up to Lofton. “What the hell was that?”
“I tried to mend a fence.”
“Oh, Cody, that was a mistake,” she said, taking his hands into hers. “Baumgartner
’s a big dog. His master can kick him, but he’ll always stay loyal. You didn’t see that?”
He shrugged, not sure if he agreed with her assessment. “I thought an apology would help.”
“He’s old school. What you should have done is kicked him again. That’s what he understands.”
Cody let go of her hand as they walked into the conference room. They sat next to each other at the table. Lofton positioned himself the furthest away from Sikes who would be at the head of the table. Baumgartner was on the other side of Amanda, putting him next to the mayor. On the opposite side of the table was Tuck, Harris and McNutt. Farrell sat at the opposite end of the table.
Underneath the table, Amanda slipped her hand in to Lofton’s. She leaned toward him and whispered, “I assume we’re together tonight?”
Lofton looked at her with surprise. He hadn’t considered anything else. A smile grew on his face that she matched.
Just then Sikes walked in and strode angrily to the head of the table. He turned, faced the group and put his hands on the table. “All right then, let’s hear what you’ve got.”
Chapter 54
Tyler Garrett leaned into the payphone when his wife finally picked up the call.
“Hello?”
“Hey, baby, it’s me.”
“Oh my God,” she squealed. “Are you okay?”
He tapped his knuckles on the wall as he spoke. “I’m great, Ang. Everything is golden.”
Garrett took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder. The country boy jailer, Tater, had cleared the area for him to make the call. He had a few minutes to talk with his wife alone before he had to go back to his cell.
“You actually sound good.”
“That’s because I am.”
“The news said you were back in jail.”
“I am, but don’t worry, baby. It won’t be for long. It’s all going to work out fine.”
“How do you know?”
Garrett laughed. “It’s just like I told you. Wardell helped me figure it out.”
Chapter 55
Mayor Sikes, Chief of Staff Lofton, and Captain Tom Farrell listened carefully as Detective Harris laid out the facts of their investigation into Officer Ty Garrett’s shooting. In any other reality, Farrell might be listening with an open mind, trying to take in the big picture and understand as best he could. In this world, though, Garrett was possibly a murderer, so he listened for any evidence that would help Detective Clint prove it.
