by John Foxjohn
“Henry, you have my condolences, partnering with the likes of this.” He pointed to David with his thumb as if hitchhiking.
“Yep, it can be troublesome at times,” Henry said.
“Come sit at my table.” Leading the way, Ronny edged his way through the crowded bar. “Been reading about you in the papers. It seems they’ve nicknamed you, Dick Tracey,” Ronny said. “How’d you go and get a nickname from the press?”
Through an embarrassed grin, David said, “Lucky, I guess.”
“You may not know this, but I trained this little shrimp,” Ronny said.
Henry laughed. “And you tell people.”
Ronny winked. “Well, I make them swear to secrecy. Can’t have that getting out. I have a reputation to uphold.”
An hour of laughing and joking passed, and then Ronny announced he had to leave and so did Henry. “David. Let’s go out soon. Gail would want to meet this new girl. She sounds like someone my wife would like.”
“Okay, tell me when,” David said.
“Hey,” Henry put in. “I haven’t met her, either.”
Ronny winked at Henry. “This one must be special. He’s keeping her away from us.”
David drove Henry back to the office to pick up his car.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Henry said. “While you played footsie with the teacher, I found the son.”
“Did you talk to him?
Henry puffed out his chest. “Yep, but I don’t think he did it.”
David laughed. “Famous Henry Carrington gut instinct?”
“Nope, no gut instinct.”
David took in a deep breath and let it out. “Are you going to tell me why you think so?”
“Elementary, my dear Watson,” Henry mimicked.
“That’s Sherlock Holmes, not Dick Tracey, you goober.”
“Whichever, I’m sure he didn’t do it because he’s in jail.”
“Jail?”
“Do I have an echo?” Henry asked.
“How long has he been in jail?”
“Three months.”
***
David hadn’t seen his parents in a few weeks, and he needed coffee, so he decided he’d kill two jobs at once. That early in the morning, his mother always had it brewing. He inhaled the scent of coffee and baking bread as he strolled into the kitchen.
He’d emptied his first cup when his beeper found him. He called dispatch and found out a homicide victim had turned up at MLK Park. While leaving, he promised he’d get back over sometime soon when he didn’t need to leave.
A police car blew past him with lights and sirens blaring, heading for the crime scene. He wondered what the hurry was. Bodies wouldn’t go anywhere, and if it did, he wouldn’t need to do the paperwork.
Several squad cars sat near the park’s pond, but Henry hadn’t arrived yet. As David trudged to the scene, a lieutenant he didn’t know met him. David didn’t like his attitude even before he uttered a word. He swaggered across trampled grass, barking orders at teams already working.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
While he reached for his badge, David identified himself.
“What took you so long to get here?”
David stood with his hands on his hips, head cocked, looking at him for a moment. He wondered if the lieutenant had sucked on lemons for breakfast, or if he was always this pleasant. “Sir. I came when I received the call.”
“Do your job for a change.”
“Aye, sir,” David said and gave a mock salute.
Officers gathered around the lake’s edge, and David figured the body must be there. As he approached, he heard Sgt. Tim Atkins talk on his walkie-talkie. He’d known Tim for several years. They’d drunk beer and told stories at the Pig Sty several times. “Hey, Tim, what’s that?” David indicated the lieutenant.
A sour grin eclipsed Tim’s face, “A piece of work, ain’t he?”
“Yeah. What do we have here?”
“Large male found floating this morning by kids.”
David frowned. “What were kids doing here?”
“On their way to school.”
David dropped his head. Now, kids couldn’t walk to school without running into dead bodies. David looked up. “What do we know about the body?”
“Not much. Been floating face down for a while. No ID whatsoever.”
“Cause of death?”
Tim looked at David for a long minute. “Don’t know.”
Frowning, David scratched his face with his index finger. What did he mean he didn’t know, and why is he acting strange. “Have you looked at the body?”
“Yeah. No visible wounds.”
“How do you think he died without any wounds on him?” David asked after several strained moments.
“Drowned.”
David stared at the patrol sergeant with his head cocked, hands on his hips. He wondered why he had to prod Tim for answers. He’d never had to before, or any Houston patrol sergeant. They knew they needed to give a run down to the detectives. Why was this different? He wiped his mouth. “Drowned?”
Tim scratched his left ear with his right thumb. “Yep.”
“Tim, what’s going on here? Why is homicide involved with a drowned body with no apparent wounds?”
“He’s handcuffed with his hands behind him.”
David’s eyes almost bulged out. “What?”
Tim blew out a breath and nodded.
Spiders crawled up David’s back. Oh, no. He sure hoped this wasn’t what he thought. If so, that explained Tim’s reaction. They hoofed to the lake’s shore, and a man’s body lay face down on the dirt, feet still in the water. Because the cuffs cut off circulation before he died, his hands had swelled to twice their normal size. Electrical shock surged through David’s body, making hairs stand on his neck. Both handcuffs on his wrists had the keyholes facing out.
He closed his eyes tight, scuffing the ground with his shoe. Cop or ex-cop had to do this. Average citizens didn’t know about cuffing someone with the thumb on the keyhole.
Chapter 8
With the smell of the stagnant pond and all the sounds around them, a shudder ripped through David. Tim reached out and rested his hand on David’s shoulder. “I was hoping you didn’t get the call on this one, but in a way, I’m glad you did.”
David shook his head like an enraged bull. He had a mess on his hands. If this black man died by police action, the entire community would be up in arms, and he didn’t blame them. This mess had gone on long enough. He took a deep breath, and mumbled, “I’m not.”
Tim nodded, understanding.
“Tim. I’m going to walk around. Fill Henry in when he gets here?”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, but I’m going for a walk.”
David ambled around the edge. Dirty, polluted water almost looked pretty at this time with sun sparkling off it. He wondered if this homicide had any connection with what the Houston police called Texas Justice.
He’d been young, naïve, and idealistic when he’d joined the police department with a glorious vision about police work and police officers. He’d gained all these insights into the police officer’s minds, crime fighting, and public protection from shows like Starsky and Hutch, Adam 12, and The Mod Squad. He believed in the motto, “To protect and serve.” That’s the reason he’d wanted to be a police officer—somehow to make a difference.
Like a lightning bolt, all his images crashed down. He remembered the incident like it happened yesterday. Two police officers in the third precinct had pursued a suspect, first in the squad car and then on foot before they caught him. Ronny’s training had taught him new insights David hadn’t received in the academy. He didn’t know it, but another lesson awaited.
As they looked through the one-way mirror of the interrogation room, two white officers pushed the handcuffed black suspect who had run from them into the room. David expected them to sit him in the chair and talk to him. However, he received a shock he
’d never forget.
One white officer raised his right arm with a sap, a black piece of leather containing lead in the end. David’s mouth gaped open in horrified silence when the officer hit the prisoner in the head with the sap. The deep thud when the sap made contact with the prisoner’s head reverberated in the room. The prisoner dropped as if someone had yanked carpet from under him.
As the prisoner tottered to his knees, the other officer kicked him right between the legs, lifting him off the floor. Letting out a loud screech, the man sounded like an animal wounded and dying. The one who had hit him in the head with the sap, screamed, “I’ll teach you to run from me.” He picked the prisoner up by the hair and hit him in the stomach. The blow bashed the wind out of him.
Doubled over, gagging, the prisoner fell to his knees again, throwing up all over the floor. Ragged gasps erupted from his nose and mouth.
David endured in disbelief. He wondered what he’d gotten himself into.
Later, he told Ronny flat out he would not be a part of that. It was illegal and wrong.
“Bub, I like you. I think you’ve potential to be a darn good cop, but I’d keep those opinions to yourself.”
Henry eased up, interrupting David’s thoughts.
“Tim filled me in, and the body’s gone to the coroner’s office.”
David rubbed his face with both hands. “Is the crime scene unit here?”
Henry nodded. “Yeah, they’re wrapping it up.”
“Did ya see the cuffs?” David asked.
“Uh huh.”
David scuffed his toe. Henry’s expression looked like he’d taken a hard punch to the stomach. David believed his partner thought the same as he did. He hoped they were both wrong on this murder. He took a deep breath and looked up. “This isn’t normal. I think there’s going to be a mess.”
Inspecting the grass, Henry nodded. “It looks that way. Whatcha goin’ to do?”
David’s face hardened with determination. Rage boiled inside, and he took deep breaths to control his emotions. “If this is a homicide, I’m darn sure treating it like one. Someone’s going to pay. I’m not covering this up.”
Henry’s head snapped up. “Have you thought this through? You know what the code says.”
David’s mouth fell open. He couldn’t believe what he heard. Was Henry suggesting he cover this up? He shook his head. No, he knew Henry too well. Henry had guts and he wouldn’t retreat from a mess like this. He was asking if he knew what’s going to happen. He nodded. “I know what the code says, but I’ll tell you this, if cops did this, they’ve violated a bigger code. Would you cover it?”
Henry turned away from David and stood looking out over the water. In the army, David had seen the thousand-yard stare Henry now had, leaving David perplexed.
“Henry.”
“Henry.”
His head jerked up and his body wheeled around to face David.
David cocked his head, frown lines creasing his brow. “Would you cover it?”
“David,” Henry stared at the overcast sky. “You don’t know what’s going to happen if police did this and you turned them in. Nope, I don’t think I would. You shouldn’t either. But that’s the main reason I don’t want any responsibility. I don’t have to make these decisions.”
In shock, David stared at his partner in utter astonishment. He and Henry had been partners for a year, and he thought he knew his friend well. He’d never have believed he would hear Henry Carrington say what he did.
“You need to think this over, David. You don’t have any idea what it’s going to be like in this department if you turn a cop in.”
David scratched his head. Something about the way Henry said that almost sounded as if he’d experienced it, but Henry would’ve told him about it.
“Henry,” David paused and took a deep breath. “I don’t care about consequences, or the code we’re supposed to adhere to. This crap’s wrong. I’m not covering them on this. If cops are involved in this, they’ve gone too far.”
Henry shook his head. “You know I’m going to back you up no matter what you decide, but do me a favor first. Think about this before you do it.”
“I’ll go this alone, Henry.”
Henry put his hands on his hips. “No you won’t.”
Loyal as an old hound dog, Henry didn’t want responsibility, but his friend would back him no matter what. “Do we have an ID on the dead man?” David asked.
Henry nodded. “Yeah, we do. His neighbor happened by. His name’s Willie Long.”
“Is that a positive?”
“No, not a positive, but I sent a patrol to his house to get his wife to ID.”
David closed his eyes for a long moment. “Let’s go to the station.”
David and Henry drove back to the station in their separate cars. Traffic and buildings whipped by, but David didn’t notice. Stuff was about to hit the fan. He’d tried to tell people about this crap. Someone needed to put their foot down. When he parked, he realized he’d driven all the way—not aware of anything but the problem.
David sent Henry to check if they had Simpson back from North Carolina yet, and he sat at his desk for several minutes. He didn’t want to do this, but he had to.
At last, he picked up the phone, called the booking officer, and had him check to see if anyone had arrested Willie Long.
“Yeah, last night in the seventh precinct.”
He paused for a couple of moments, not wanting to ask the next question. “Is he still in jail?” He knew the answer, but didn’t want to hear it. He considered hanging up the phone and writing this one off, but he couldn’t do it.
“No, he didn’t stay in jail. He needed medical attention and they transported him to Ben Taub. They must’ve kept him in the hospital because he didn’t return.”
David called Ben Taub, and they didn’t have any records of Houston police bringing Willie Long or anyone else in the night before. He had an irritated secretary check again to make sure, but no officers had brought anyone in.
Slouched by the window, David heard Inspector Patterson greet him. Patterson asked, “What’s the matter?”
David told him what had happened from the time he arrived at the pond, what he saw, and the phone calls he’d made.
Sitting, Patterson tapped on the chair with his index finger. “Okay.” He stood, rubbing his chin and jaw with his thumb and index finger for several minutes with a solemn expression. “Have a seat, David.”
David slumped in his chair, and Patterson trudged to the window and looked out. Without facing David, he asked, “You know what this looks like?”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
He turned from the window and sat across from David, putting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward. “Have you thought about this? You know what’s going to happen.”
Thunderstruck, David stared. The code was an unwritten tradition with police departments, it said police officers took care of each other. No matter what they thought about the officer, they did not inform on another officer.
David respected William Patterson more than anyone else. He never for a moment would’ve suspected Patterson would suggest he cover this up.
“David, I’m not suggesting you cover this. All I’m asking is if you’ve thought this through all the way. Do you know the possible consequences?”
Face in his hands, David looked up. “What would you do, sir?”
Patterson rubbed his hand over his chin. “It’s hard to say. I’m not in your position and I’ve never been in one like this. I know you’ve overlooked things in the past like I have and everyone else. But I haven’t had to think about something this serious.”
“Would you cover it?”
“No. I don’t think I would. If officers killed this man, they deserve punishment like anyone else. David…” Patterson took a deep breath. “I’ve always known you had integrity.”
David didn’t care what happened to him. He had a good idea what the reactions would be, bu
t he could handle it. However, he had more people than himself to think about. He had Henry, and even the inspector to consider. Officers wouldn’t dare try anything with the inspector. However, Henry’s butt would hang out on the ledge like his. Would it be fair to pull Henry into this?
David rubbed his face with both hands. “Sir,” he said in a low voice, “if I covered this, I’d resign from the department. No way am I going to keep doing the job if I let this go. It’s wrong, pure and simple.”
Patterson nodded, picked up David’s phone, and dialed a number.
“Gary, this is Patterson. I’m here in David Mason’s office and you need to talk to us.”
“Yes, Gary, now.”
He hung up the phone and they didn’t say anything. Several minutes later, a large man in a suit too small knocked on David’s door. Inspector Moore had an unusual appearance with a skinny bottom half, and a top half bulging with fat and Santa Claus cheeks, but without the white beard.
“Come in, Gary, and shut the door,” Patterson said.
“David, this is Inspector Gary Moore. He’s the chief of Internal Affairs. Tell him what you told me.”
***
David stopped by the Pig Sty that evening when he got off. As always, the place stank of cigarette smoke, aftershave, and cheap perfume. When he trudged in, all conversation stopped, the air thick with tension. Everyone stared at him as he let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Word got around quick, but he’d expected it to.
He shuffled to the bar and stood for a minute, but no one said a word. Officers sitting at the bar turned their backs on him. When the bartender brought him a Miller Lite and a frozen mug, he slammed them on the bar, walking away without saying a word. David took his beer and traipsed to the back by himself. Loud conversations and laughter that had been going on when he entered didn’t resume.
In a few minutes, quiet, muffled conversations continued, and he drank his beer and left. The hubbub continued as the door closed.
