by Mike Ryan
“Does he ever go anywhere without you?” Recker asked.
Malloy just smiled. “Not usually.”
Recker looked out the window at several trucks coming in and out. “Bustling place.”
“It has its moments.”
“Almost forgot that this place had an actual business purpose during the daytime.”
Malloy led Recker through the warehouse and down the hallway, until they reached the office door. Malloy opened the door and let Recker in, revealing Vincent sitting at the desk. Recker glanced at the décor, but it looked the same as it always did. Vincent was writing something in a notebook, then stopped and tossed the pen down on the desk as he put eyes on his visitor. He closed the book as Recker sat across from him. Malloy closed the door behind him and leaned up against the wall to the side of the two men. Vincent leaned back and put his elbows on the arm of the chair and clasped his hands together.
“Jimmy told me there was something you wanted to talk about.”
“Yeah. Thanks for agreeing to meet so soon,” Recker said.
“No problem. The least I could do for you. Usually when you request something there’s a certain urgency involved.”
“I wanted to talk about the problem you got me involved in.”
“The problem I got you involved in?” Vincent asked, not sure where he was going with the question.
“Meeting your law enforcement friend, getting caught up in his situation.”
“Well that was hardly my problem. I was simply the middleman. You were free to help or not help as you saw fit.”
By the face that Recker replied with, Vincent could tell that he wasn’t making much progress on the case.
“I take it that it’s been giving you fits,” Vincent said.
“I guess that’s one way of putting it. You still don’t have any information on it?”
Vincent shook his head. “If I knew of anything you wouldn’t even be here right now. I would’ve given that information to Detective Andrews already. That would’ve eliminated the need for you.”
“You know all the people killed so far, right?”
“Yes, three officers and two civilians if I’m not mistaken.”
“One of them was a low-level drug dealer,” Recker said.
“I’m sure you have a point with that.”
“Well, you have control over this entire city now. I would think that you would have information on anybody active in this town. No matter how small.”
Vincent made a face and shrugged. “And you think I know of every single person who’s doing something illegal?”
“I would be surprised if you didn’t.”
“Well then I guess you will be surprised to know that I don’t lay the hammer down a hundred percent. I don’t concern myself with small-time dealers and criminals. They’re small-time for a reason.”
“You just let anyone operate on your turf without being checked?” Recker asked.
“I’m more concerned with the bigger picture. I don’t need to know every single detail that’s going on out there. I think that’s where men in power get tripped up sometimes. They worry about things that aren’t especially meaningful. If there’s a few hoods out there dealing drugs or weapons, I’m fine with it. If they stay small, and are only putting money in their own pocket; food on their table. It’s when they have bigger ambitions and start taking it out of my pocket that I’ll have an issue with it.”
“And everybody knows that?”
“Most do. If they don’t, then someone will put them in line.”
Recker pulled out his folder and put it on the desk, sliding it over to Vincent.
“What’s this?”
“Pictures, names, information of the deceased,” Recker replied. “I know you said you don’t know anything, but I thought maybe if you saw the names, looked at the faces, maybe something would ring a bell.”
Vincent grabbed the folder and held it above the desk and opened it. “Fair enough.”
Recker silently looked on as Vincent looked through the contents of the folder. The boss took several minutes, giving it an honest effort. With almost anyone else who might have been there, Vincent likely would have just given it a cursory look and not put much effort into it. But to continue the goodwill they had with each other, Vincent genuinely tried to recall seeing any of the names or faces. Before Recker slid the folder to him, he hadn’t seen either. He only knew the situation based on news reports and what he’d been told. He didn’t concern himself with the names at that point. After several minutes, Vincent shook his head and closed the folder.
“Afraid I can’t help you. None of the faces look familiar. I haven’t across any of these names before either.”
Recker could see he was being given an honest answer. Vincent wasn’t giving him some fluff or anything. There was another question on his mind, and he hoped Vincent wouldn’t take umbrage at it.
“None of these officers were on your payroll, were they? No offense meant.”
Vincent smiled. “No, they were not. And no offense taken.”
“Just figured I’d ask.”
“If they were on my payroll, don’t you think I’d have some knowledge of what was going on?”
“Maybe. Or maybe they weren’t paid well enough for you to care.”
“Fair enough. In any case it’s a moot point since they’re not.”
“I guess there’s one more question that has to be asked,” Recker said.
“Well, I think I might be able to anticipate what that question is, but you go ahead anyway.”
“You’re not behind this, are you?”
“What do you think?”
“I’d say it was unlikely, but like I said, the question has to be asked.”
“Then my answer would be no, I’m not. If I was, do you really think I would reach out to get you involved to investigate? That would be a pretty stupid thing to do on my part considering how well you do your job.”
“Not talking of you specifically, but, generally speaking, people do stupid things all the time.”
“Agreed. But I am not one of those people,” Vincent said.
“No doubt about it. Well, you made an effort,” Recker said. “That’s all I could ask.”
Vincent, trying to help him and offer something useful, slid the folder to the side of the desk, pointed in Malloy’s direction.
“Jimmy? Take a look if you will.”
“Sure,” Malloy said, moving toward the desk.
Malloy did as his boss did and looked at the pictures carefully. Once he was done with them, he moved on to the names and information of the victims. After he gave it a few minutes, he had the same response as Vincent. He put everything back in the folder and handed it to Recker.
“Don’t know any of them either.”
Recker sighed in frustration, though he wasn’t too surprised. “I won’t take up any more of your time.”
“Sorry we couldn’t be of help,” Vincent said.
“Figured it was worth a shot.”
“Just out of curiosity, what do your instincts tell you?”
“My instincts?”
“Yes. Surely you have some thoughts or theories about what’s going on, whether you can prove them or actually have any proof to lead you to it.”
Recker’s eyes darted around the room for a few seconds as he pondered the question. Vincent was right. He did have some thoughts he really hadn’t shared until now. He tried not to offer any ideas about anything he at least didn’t have some evidence that would lead him in the right direction.
“So far there’s no link that connects any of these people together.”
“But you feel there is one?” Vincent asked.
“I do. I kind of doubt five people being shot in a matter of weeks is random. Could it be? Sure. I just have a tough time believing it.”
“What would the connection be?”
“I don’t know. The dealer, the innocent victim, and the undercover officer were a
ll shot in proximity to one another. That leads me to believe something happened that wasn’t supposed to be seen. Or something happened that wasn’t supposed to.”
“And the other officers?”
“Cops being shot outside their houses indicates a personal connection,” Recker said.
“And what does that lead you to?”
“It leads me to believe that maybe they were involved in something they shouldn’t have been.”
Vincent nodded, having the same feeling. “Perhaps you’re right.”
Recker left the office and drove out of the lot. He let Jones know nothing came of the meeting. Even though he believed Vincent didn’t know anything, something was tugging at Recker that he knew more. Maybe it was just his cynical nature. But it almost seemed to him Vincent was trying to lead him down the path that Recker eventually stumbled upon without saying anything. But like most things with Vincent, Recker could never be completely sure of anything. He would just have to hope Tyrell would have better luck.
12
Another week went by with two more shootings of police officers. Both officers were killed walking out of their houses. With not having anything new to work with, Recker was willing to do just about anything to get the crucial piece of evidence they needed to find out who the shooter was. Right now, he’d settle for just knowing what the connection to all the officers was. And he knew there had to be one. The growing sentiment amongst the police, according to Andrews, was the attacks were random, and there was no link between any of them. It was a belief shared by Jones, and even Haley was starting to come around to that line of thinking. Recker seemed to be the last holdout. It was possible he’d eventually be proven wrong, but he just couldn’t make himself think some crazy person was going around shooting cops. He knew there had to be more to it than that.
With that desperation in mind, Recker called for a meeting with Tyrell at Charlie’s Bar. The place didn’t open until four, but Recker had called and asked him if he could use a table. As Charlie always got there at one to start setting up for the night, and that Recker was always welcome anytime, he had no problem in letting the Silencer use his establishment. It was two o’clock, and Recker and Haley had arrived right on schedule. While they were waiting, Charlie brought a couple of drinks over for the two men.
“Here’s a couple of sodas for you gents,” Charlie said, putting the two glasses down.
“Thanks, Charlie,” Recker replied.
“Ah, no sweat, boys.”
As soon as Charlie walked away, Haley took a sip of his drink. “Wonder what’s keeping him.”
“I dunno. He’s usually not late.”
A few more minutes went by before they heard a tap on the wood of the front door. Charlie walked over to it, and after quizzing the visitor, let him in. Tyrell walked over to the table and sat across from his friends.
“Took you long enough,” Recker said, not letting go of the opportunity to kid him.
“Hey man, I hit traffic.”
A minute later, Charlie came by with another drink, putting in front of Tyrell. “I’ll leave you boys to your discussion. If you need anything else, just give me a holler. I’ll be in the back.”
“Thanks, Charlie,” Recker said.
Tyrell took a drink, then stood and removed his jacket. Recker looked at it closely as Tyrell slung it over the back of his chair.
“That new?” Recker asked.
Tyrell took a look behind him at the jacket before answering. “Yeah. Just got it a couple days ago.”
“Nice. Looks shiny.”
“Genuine leather.”
Recker looked at the jacket again, then Tyrell. He opened his mouth and was about to make a joke, but Tyrell put his hand up to stop him from going any further.
“Listen, man, I like the jacket. It’s comfortable. I can do without any of your sarcastic responses.”
Recker smiled and let out a laugh, unable to contain himself. “All right, let’s get down to business then.”
“Before we start that, can I just say how weird it is that there’s two of you now?”
Recker and Haley looked at each other, neither of whom thought there was anything weird about it.
“Why?” Recker asked.
“I dunno. For so long I was just dealing with one of you running around, saving the city. Now there’s two of you. I dunno. Just don’t seem natural.”
“This isn’t the first time you two have met.”
“I know. I was just sayin’. I just can’t believe there’s two of you crazy mo-fo’s running around the city now, playing superhero, stalking around in the middle of the night.”
“We don’t stalk around,” Haley said, joking.
“And it’s not always the middle of the night,” Recker said.
“Yeah, yeah. So, what’d you want to meet about?”
“We wanna get more proactive about this police thing,” Recker said. “Cops are dropping like crazy around here and we need to put a stop to it now.”
Tyrell made a face, making Recker think he wasn’t on board with the idea.
“What, you don’t think so?”
Tyrell shrugged. “Nah, it’s not that. But, I mean, I don’t know what else we can do. You know I’ve checked around. Nobody’s got nothin’ to say. You know the cops have put everything they got on this. And Vincent, you checked with Vincent. Even he don’t know what’s going on. Now if I don’t know, Vincent don’t know, and the cops don’t know . . . maybe there ain’t nothin’ to know.”
Recker shook his head. “I just can’t believe that. There’s always somebody that knows something. There’s always a piece of evidence out there somewhere. We just have to find it.”
“I dunno, man. I don’t know where it is.”
“Maybe it’s like fishing. Maybe we just haven’t used the right kind of bait.”
“You know I don’t fish,” Tyrell said.
“If you wanna catch a different kind of fish, sometimes you gotta put a different kind of bait on the hook to reel them in.”
“And what would that bait be?”
“Money,” Recker answered.
“Money?”
“Yeah. So far, it hasn’t been offered. You were just using your connections, Vincent wasn’t really looking, and the cops don’t bribe for information.”
“Maybe not the ones you know,” Tyrell said, scoffing at his suggestion. “I know a few who do.”
“Regardless, the ones who are investigating this, don’t.”
“So whatcha you got in mind?”
Recker reached into his pocket and removed an envelope. He set it down and slid it across the table. Tyrell picked it up and looked inside. As he was holding the envelope, looking at the money that was inside, he peeked up at Recker.
“How much is in here?” Tyrell asked.
“Couple thousand.”
“And I’m supposed to use this to get the answers we’re looking for?”
Recker nodded. “That’s the plan.”
Tyrell folded the flap of the envelope back down and put it in the pocket of his jacket. “And you think this is the right kind of bait?”
“You don’t?”
“I dunno. Beats me. I’m just asking.”
“Can’t hurt.”
“How much of this am I supposed to use?”
“As much as you need,” Recker answered.
“What makes you think this is gonna give you the answers you’re looking for?”
“We all know money talks. Maybe people just haven’t been motivated enough to give us what we need.”
Tyrell slouched down in his chair and put his elbow on the arm of it and balled his hand into a fist as he rested it against the side of his mouth. He was contemplating the situation and what he was being asked to do.
“Can I just ask why you’re so dead set on thinking that this isn’t the work of some whack job out there? Why does everything gotta be some conspiracy theory or something?”
Recker leaned over
and made a grimace as he itched his side as he contemplated the question. “I dunno. I guess I just have a hard time believing this is the work of a crazy person.”
“Why?”
“Just doesn’t feel like it.”
“Seriously? That’s all you got? It just doesn’t feel like it? Nothing specific to go on?”
Recker shook his head. “Nope. Just a hunch.”
Tyrell rubbed his mouth with the palm of his hand. “And what are you gonna do if this doesn’t pan out?”
“I don’t know. Haven’t thought about it. Guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
Tyrell sighed, thinking this was gonna be a waste of time. He was willing to do it since he got paid for it no matter what, but based on his conversations with some of his contacts previously, he just didn’t think they’d have anything more to share, even with money being thrown in their faces. But he was known to be wrong before with some of the people he dealt with, and Recker was right because money had a way of loosening lips sometimes.
“All right, I’ll give it a shot,” Tyrell said. “Hope we can turn something for you. I’ll start working on it right away.”
“Appreciate it.”
Tyrell took one last sip of his drink then stood and put his new jacket on.
“Snazzy,” Recker said.
“Hey, what’d I tell you about that?”
Recker laughed again. “Just couldn’t resist a parting shot.”
“Yeah, I bet. So, what do I do in the event I do find someone willing to talk, assuming there is such a person, and this ain’t enough?” Tyrell said, tapping the envelope in his pocket.
“There’s three thousand dollars in there. I think that should be plenty.”
“Never know. I’m just asking.”
“If you find someone who’s looking for more, you let me know.”
“I’ll do that.”
Tyrell started to leave but was interrupted by Recker, who had some last-minute instructions for him.
“Tyrell?”
“Yeah.”
“Just don’t be giving that money to anybody who might have information,” Recker said. “They better have something, and it better be right, and it better be good.”
