by Ronnie Allen
“Hold on, Detective. The body’s never processed first. In the middle, maybe, probably at the end. We gotta examine the path to the body first. And in this place, do you realize how much evidence we need to collect?”
Sam chimed right in. “Yup. Impressions, fingerprints, biologicals, serology patterns, entomologicals, botanicals, trace--macros and micros.”
Nick shuddered and looked up at the sky.
Oh, man. This one could annoy the fleas off a dog.
“And don’t forget about me. Transfer,” Sam added.
“Just the three of you don’t move. We’ll get working on your shoes when we can,” the investigator retorted with a smirk.
“Hey, rookie. Let’s get something straight. Right now.”
She looked up at Withers with a solemn expression.
He waved his index finger at her face. “No one here, and I mean no one, is impressed with what you know. So put a plug on the Samantha-knows-it-all-hose and stop spraying us. It doesn’t matter what you fucking know. What does matter is how you put everything together. And so far, you haven’t showed me squat. Capiche?”
“I most certainly did in my prelim.”
“No. You formed a hypothesis, based on what, I do not know. Not on facts, for sure. We don’t have any facts yet, other than it’s a dead man. You better not form theories on what this case is about based on your hypothesis.”
Nick saw the disappointment on her face. Okay, she did need to be knocked down a peg. He could always depend on Withers to be the bad guy.
Another hour passed until an investigator came over, camera ready. He directed each of them to raise their feet, one at a time until he shot about twenty pics from every conceivable angle. Foot molds were taken, so their footprints would be compared to others at the scene.
Nick watched Sam’s reactions. That was his job. To assess her every move. She still looked mesmerized by everything. He thought she looked like a little kid in a museum for the first time, learning, being the sponge, soaking up every detail. She appeared to be a quick learner. Good. He could live with that. Overall, he was impressed with his new, big-mouthed partner.
The investigators put white raised boards from where the three detectives stood to the crime scene near the body. In addition to the time that they had already spent, it took them another half hour to board the twenty-five feet. The detectives’ shoes were taken, packed separately in garbage bags, and they were given replacements covered with surgical booties. They were getting closer to seeing the body.
“Oooh. Oooh. I almost forgot.” Sam jumped up and down like a little kid.
Withers had lost patience. He bellowed. “What?”
“I know him.”
Even Nick had lost patience with her now. “You know him? You know the victim?”
“Not personally. I mean I recognized him. Steven Larcon, Larcon Fashions. I love his evening wear.”
Lava from the top of Withers’s head erupted. “You mean to tell me that you IDd the victim and you’re telling me now? Three hours into being here? Three hours that was wasted! Three hours that the media could have gotten hold of this? Do you realize how traumatic it would be for the family to have found out about this from Facebook and Twitter first, before we notified them? This is going to cost you, Wright. And send you right back to your fifth grade classroom in Brooklyn, where you belong.”
“Withers, take it easy.” Nick tried to lead him away. “She did good. Saved us the ID.”
An investigator interrupted them and signaled. Withers trekked to the body with Nick and Sam following.
Nick stared at a half-eaten man with pus formed and coming out of about twenty cuts from a small blade, from his neck to groin. He closed his eyes and turned away, not only because of the flies he had to swat, but because, even he, with fifteen years investigating homicides, never had gotten used to scenes like this. But it was the job so his turning away was just a momentary lapse. Then he refocused. At scenes like this, he acknowledged first, that this was his job, and second, that people depended upon him to cope. That was his motivation. Next, he always thanked God, that it was no one he personally knew.
Sam stared at the mutilated man and her complexion turned ghostlike. Nick grabbed onto her arm as she bent over and turned away. After a moment, she composed herself and pointed. Nick followed her finger to about ten feet away. He became dizzy, too. He grabbed an investigator who joined them with an it’s-nothing-out-of-the-ordinary stare. He marked the foot-path, took about twenty photos--including of the bushes surrounding the object--and positioned cone markers to note the path. Then he waited.
“Hey, Barry, he’s been chopped.”
“Got it!” With gloved hands, Barry bent down and picked up the man’s genitals, scrotum attached. He wrapped it in white paper and deposited it into a manila evidence bag, marked it with his ID, time, date, location, and weather conditions. “Just another day at the office, Detectives.”
“When can we get the body to the ME?” Nick asked.
Barry glared at him. “Are you kidding me, Valatutti? We haven’t even fully set up yet. Just doing this to accommodate you big-wigs. Got at least twenty hours here. And I’ll have to call in more crew. Just keep the family away.”
“Okay. But it looks like a lot of anger taken out on this one. I’ll call Doctor Trenton,” Withers said.
“You can’t, Dingo. He’s in Florida, the lucky bastard, recouping from a bullet he took in his last case.”
“Ah. Knew he was shot, but didn’t know he hadn’t come back yet.”
“Yeah. He almost got himself wacked on the Montgomery case. A few times. All right. I know who I’ll call. Khaos, Frank Khaos.”
Withers squirmed. “That MMA guy?”
“You got a problem with him?” Nick asked.
“Yeah. But I’ll deal with it.” Withers looked like his mind had taken a spaceship away from the scene.
CHAPTER 5
“Get yourself into the lieutenant’s office, now, Wright!”
Dingo Withers hadn’t stopped chewing her out, the entire ride from the crime scene to their precinct. His voice stretched beyond raspy. He led the way down a hall with Sam and Nick following. Sam observed Nick avoiding eye contact with anyone in the office, as he walked, eyes down, scrutinizing the new flooring. Guess she had embarrassed him, too.
She hadn’t said a word to Withers during his tirade. He wasn’t worth the effort. All she knew was that he’d have a stroke if he continued and smoking had taken its toll on him. He had had at least three at the crime scene. Good thing he put his butts into a bag, not dropped them in the water. At least, he hadn’t contaminated the scene more than she had. Damn him for making fun of her report. She could tell it was a female killer. But he was right. She’d have to prove it.
Some of the other men and women in uniform, working at their desks or standing at the water cooler, rolled their eyes when they heard him bellowing. She wasn’t the only target of his aggression. Okay, he had a rep. Nothing personal. This guy was limited on people skills. She hoped he wouldn’t be the one to make the family notification.
There didn’t seem to be a warm bone in his body. He didn’t flinch when he saw the dead guy. Not even when he realized the guy was missing his family jewels. Most men she knew would grab onto theirs as an automatic protective response or, at least, make a hand motion toward their groin. All right, this guy was less than human.
She made a pact with herself, right there, that she’d never become so heartless.
She’d do her best not to work with him. He was toxic and she’d do all she could to prevent his energy from penetrating her. She’d had the experience of negative energy traveling into her and digging in like vermin, and she had to protect her own energy field at all costs. She had gotten rid of all the toxic people in her life by distancing herself and breaking ties. Usually, that was all it took. That was, along with her secret methods. If this Withers had to be in close proximity to her, she’d no longer be able to stay i
n the closet. She would have to blatantly show these men what she could do.
Yes, Dara. You’ll be working overtime here with me.
And her partner, Nick. He must be the strong, silent type. He did react at the gruesome scene, just for a moment, but it was a humane reaction, nonetheless. They hadn’t had a moment to talk to get to know each other, or for him to tell her the ropes. She did see him pull Withers over at the scene to tell him to lighten up, but it fell on deaf ears. In the car, Nick did nothing to shut him up, either. You couldn’t talk rationally to an irrational person, at least not at that moment. Guess Nick felt that way, too.
Right now her mind was reeling between of the hostage situation first thing in the morning and the gruesome murder a little while later. She hadn’t even met her new loo yet.
What kind of an impression was she going to make with her hair full of mud, wearing a sweat suit two sizes too big, with no underwear?
Oh yeah, nothing would be as memorable as this first day.
Withers knocked at the lieutenant’s office door. “Come in, Withers. Heard you down the hall. Who pissed you off, now?”
Withers opened the door and practically shoved Sam in, landing her right in front of the lieutenant’s desk. She read his nameplate facing her, Lt. Miguel Rojas. The lieutenant stared at her, his gaze traveled from her head down her legs. He removed his glasses, placed them on his desk, and stood up.
Oh my God! What does this precinct have, all the handsome men?
She stood there examining the dark Latino man with the mustache, extended soul patch, and largest round brown eyes she had ever seen on a man. His full head of wavy jet black hair made those eyes seem even bigger. Oh God, how would she be able to focus on what this man was saying?
Dara, help!
“Who the hell are you?” His sharp tone straightened her to attention.
“Uh, Detective Samantha Wright, Lieutenant.”
“You look more like the suspect, than one of my detectives.”
“Sorry, sir, we came here right from the crime scene. And I was off duty then.”
The lieutenant shot both Nick and Withers disdainful looks. “And neither of you thought to let Detective Wright get herself presentable before dragging her into my office, for our first meeting? Don’t say a word. I’ll deal with you, two, after, but I damn know well who the instigator is.” He glanced at Withers. “What have you done to get Detective Withers so pissed off?”
“I don’t know, sir. I gave him a recount of the scene as any first responder would.”
“You’re leaving two important things out, Wright. Own up to it.”
“I IDd the body, Lieutenant, but in the moment, I forgot to tell that first. I didn’t mention it until Crime Scene arrived.”
“And what else, rookie?”
Sam didn’t know what else. Her stomach fluttered. She was at a loss for words. Never had that happened to her. She had to get over this brain freeze. She glanced up at Withers and swallowed.
“You told your new partner here, that you landed your first case? And with the victim making it high profile? I don’t think so. You come in here with the audacity to take charge. Well, rookie, standing there in your two-sizes-too-big sweat-shirt-and-pants, try to convince the lieutenant now that it should be your case.”
“This is your case? Okay Withers, point well taken. Why should it be your case, Detective? And I use that term very loosely now, since you are not coming across as one.”
This isn’t fair, but homicide isn’t fair. Saying that would definitely not fly. Come on, Dara, if it was any time I needed you, I need you now to fill in the blanks.
“Okay, Lieutenant, I’ll tell you why. Number one, I discovered the body. Fell into it, no, over it, actually. I was there as the first responder. Number two, you’d need a detective on this case, anyway. I made a full recording of a prelim and I recorded everything I told Detectives Withers and Valatutti about the scene. Three. I have a photographic memory, Lieutenant. That will definitely serve me well. I can add to whatever the investigators collects on this case. Four. I’m excellent at talking to families, did lots of that in children’s crimes in Brooklyn. Five. Detective Valatutti is my training partner, so he could oversee everything I do. Six. Detective Withers is right in this building. Ordinarily, he’d get the high-profile cases, anyway, and because he’s so close, he could supervise me, along with Detective Valatutti. Shall I go on?”
“What you will do, is march yourself out of my office and sit on the bench to the right, until I call you back in.”
“Yes, sir.” Sam turned to walk out, thinking this wasn’t going well at all.
What else could happen?
She closed the door on her way out.
***
Rojas sat down, not at all amused, and he was not afraid to show it. “Have a seat, Detectives.”
The tension in his face was deliberate. His work, cleaning up this precinct had just begun, two months ago. They had called him in from the Bronx to stiffen up some of the laxness in their paper work and follow-ups. And damn it, he was going to do it. The detectives here did great work.
They just needed a tougher leader with tougher expectations, and Withers wasn’t cutting it. Rojas had a lot of bones to pick with Withers and, if he didn’t succeed, he’d make sure that Withers was bounced. He couldn’t care less about his great rep. Withers had failed in the most important case as far as he was concerned.
Nick and Withers sat in arm-chairs opposite the lieutenant’s desk.
Rojas leaned back in his chair with his hand under his chin, pen in hand. “All right, Nick. What’s your initial assessment?”
“Very bright, observant, detailed, a little flighty, rambles--not necessarily in order. She did great with the family this morning. Really thoughtful, developed a rapport with the HT.”
“Who was the hostage taker? Nah, never mind. It’s Brooklyn’s case. How did she react when she saw the body?”
“A little squeamish when she saw the body, chopped. But she held it together. I like her smarts, even though she is a little over zealous. I can live with it.”
“Her file indicates she’s interested in forensics. Does that threaten you, Withers?”
“I could have guessed that. But you’re kiddin’ me, Loo, right?”
Rojas didn’t respond right away, just shot him a hard look. “Do I look like I’m kidding?”
“No, I’m not threatened by her. We could use her skills in recording the scene. She didn’t miss a beat, but I won’t tell her that. Had some thoughts that I may not agree with. Don’t know how she’ll put it all together.”
Rojas nodded. “While you were in transit, I did get positive ID of the victim. She was right. Steven Larcon of Larcon Fashions. Has a wife, three adult kids, an older daughter, and twins, a boy and a girl. Close knit family. No one notified them yet. We need Frank on this one.”
“Yeah. Nick mentioned him. Isn’t there anyone else?”
“No. He isn’t a fan of yours, either, Withers. Hey, Nick, now would be a good time for you to catch up on paperwork.”
“Sure, Loo.” Nick got up, pushed the chair in.
“Don’t stop and talk to her. I want to see how she handles this.”
“Yes, sir.” He nodded and walked out of the office.
Withers waited until the door shut. “Hey, it’s been two years. Evidence gets cold, Loo.”
“It was his wife, for Christ sake. You are the most experienced lead homicide detective in the city. And you came up with nothing. He’s one of ours, Dingo! Unlike the former lieutenant who sat in this chair, I expected you to still be working on it. And from your response, I can tell you’re not. I want you to go over every single file. I don’t care if there’s ten boxes in cold storage. You better get your unit working on this. Am I making myself clear?”
“Crystal.”
“Better yet. Get little miss photographic memory, there, to go over it all with you.” Rojas spoke into the intercom. “Jessica, get
me Doctor Khaos on the phone, please.” In less than ten seconds the connection was made. “Hey, Frank, it’s Lieutenant Rojas. We need you here. High-profile case. The family needs to be notified and we need you to profile.”
“I’m in the downtown area now. I was heading home but I can be there in fifteen.”
“When you get here make contact with Detective Sam Wright.”
“Will do.”
Disconnecting the phone, the lieutenant got a look of surprise from Dingo. “You think you two are the only ones testing out the rookie? Let’s see how she handles the tattooed behemoth.”
“So you are giving her the lead on this case?”
“Sure am. You two are going to be real close on this one with Valatutti and Khaos looking over both your shoulders. You better take off now. Khaos sees you, you’re a dead man. Until he learns you’re back on the case. And he’ll want proof of that.”
“Then how in hell am I supposed to work this case with him, if I’m not here?”
“You’re a veteran detective. Figure it out.”
***
Sam sat on the bench like a little girl reprimanded by the principal. Her head bent down, she wondered what could happen next. It had seemed like she had waited for over an hour. No one had come over to introduce themselves, or to make her feel welcome.
Okay, this must be an ego-oriented bunch just like the other New York City precincts.
Every cop was in competition for cases, and here she comes in on her first day, demanding a high-profile one.
There you go again Sam, with your delusions of grandeur.
She did have to pat herself on the back, though. She knew she did great today. Her self-confidence was something no one would succeed in taking away.
She didn’t have her watch. Withers had taken her phone to download her pics and recordings for Crime Scene. There was no clock on the wall. She looked up when she heard heavy footsteps. And had to look way up.
