by Rayna Morgan
When she finished, she felt relieved. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized the stress created by keeping things from her boss.
Tom frowned. “If my counterpart up north isn’t careful, his handling of the matter will be his undoing.”
“Cranston did nothing to make sure the matter was properly investigated,” she complained. “He failed to send the message that such conduct was unacceptable or that similar actions would have consequences.”
“If the allegations are true,” Tom said, “the officer under his command clearly violated the department’s general conduct rule.”
Pat quoted the manual. “Whether on or off-duty, members have a responsibility to avoid conduct that brings disrepute to the department or impairs its efficient and effective operation.”
Tom nodded. “Very good, detective. From what you’re telling me, Cranston showed no interest in possible misconduct by this particular officer.”
“He intentionally avoided addressing the rumors in front of the squad which was unusual given our practice of open discussions on policy. By comparison, when a complaint was made against two officers for harassing someone while the men were off duty and drunk, Cranston demanded updates on the status of the investigation every week.”
“I think we agree your superior’s handling of this matter was not only out of character, but unacceptable.”
Tom leaned forward and eyed her closely.
“If the matter comes to a head and you’re called on by Internal Affairs, your disclosure could mean the end of his career.”
“What should I do?”
“I hate to see you in an untenable position, but the matter shouldn’t be shoved under the table.” He stared out the window. “Leave it with me. I’ll give it some thought.
“Thanks, boss. I feel better getting it off my shoulders.” She grinned impishly. “Not that you needed something to keep you up at night.”
He wadded a piece of paper and threw it at her.
“Get out of here, Fisher.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Warren stared at his ringing phone. He didn’t recognize the caller’s number.
“This is Warren Conley.”
“It’s Dylan, Mr. Conley,” a small voice croaked.
“Hey, Dylan. How are you doing?”
“Not so good. I’m in the principal’s office. The school guard found drugs in my locker. They’re going to suspend me.”
The boy hurried on in a breathy expulsion of words.
“I don’t want Mom to find out. It will upset her something terrible. I didn’t know who else to call.”
Warren responded calmly. “I’m glad you called, son. Let me speak with the principal, please.”
When a man’s voice came on the line, Warren introduced himself as a friend of Dylan and Leslie Nelson.
“Dylan’s mother is not available at the moment. I’d like to help sort out this situation.”
“Did Dylan describe the seriousness of the matter?”
“He did, sir. If you’ll allow me, I’ll be at your office in fifteen minutes.”
Warren rushed out, glad Lea wasn’t around to ask where he was going in such a hurry.
• • •
They sat on a bench outside the principal’s office. Warren listened to the boy’s claim that he lacked knowledge of the drugs and his insistence that someone put them in his locker.
Following a brief conversation with the principal, Dylan was dismissed.
Warren accompanied the boy to get his backpack. On the way, Dylan begged Warren not to tell his mother.
“I can’t do that, son,” Warren said. “The principal let you off with a warning, but only on the condition that your mother is informed.”
They stopped in front of a row of double-tiered metal lockers.
“I swear, Mr. Conley. Those pills don’t belong to me. Someone planted them here.”
The boy entered a combination and the lock sprung open.
Warren examined the door, but saw no signs the latch had been tampered with.
“Do you always secure the lock?”
Dylan shrugged. “Not if I’m late for class. I never worry anything will be stolen.”
“In your case, putting something in may have caused more harm than taking something out. Do you know who might do such a thing?”
Dylan shuffled his feet and looked down the empty hall.
“If you’re not honest with me, Dylan, I can’t help you.”
The boy lowered his voice. “A couple of weeks ago, I went to a party where some kids were popping pills.”
“Friends of yours?”
“Not really. Just kids I hung out with after Coach Jensen benched me.”
“Were you benched for bad grades?”
“Yeah. That, and missing practice.”
“Why did you skip practice?”
“If Coach won’t let me play, what’s the point of practicing?”
Warren bit his tongue.
Dylan failed to notice his irritation. “I’m not that interested in sports. It’s no big deal.”
“Yeah, it is,” Warren said sharply.
Dylan got belligerent. “I’m not sorry I got kicked off the team.”
Warren realized the futility of pushing the boy further. “Tell me about the party.”
“They had drugs they wanted me to try, but I refused. The next day at school, they messed with me again.”
“In what way?”
“After class, they took me to the fast-food place across from campus and introduced me to a dude who offered to buy me a burger. While I was eating, he suggested I could make money selling drugs even if I don’t use them myself.”
“The man solicited you to sell drugs?” Warren asked, angrily.
Dylan threw up his hands. “Hey, man. Back off. I didn’t agree.”
A bell rang and students poured out of the classrooms.
Warren pointed toward the parking lot. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll take you home.”
As they approached the crosswalk, Warren placed a hand on Dylan’s shoulder.
“You said you’re not sorry for being kicked off the team. It seems the only sorry you’re feeling is for yourself.”
Dylan jerked, and Warren’s hand fell away. He unlocked his car and they got in.
“You can use your parents’ divorce as an excuse to get involved with drugs. If you do, you’ll hurt yourself more than you hurt them.”
Dylan made no reply, so Warren started the engine.
“Or you can help us do something about this guy pushing drugs on campus.”
Driving away from the school, Warren issued a challenge.
“You have to decide, young man. Whose side are you on?”
For the rest of the ride, the boy slumped on his side of the car staring silently out the window.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Lea drove to the apartment where Mary lived before her eviction, hoping someone would know the woman’s whereabouts. Failing that, she might gain further insight into Mary’s feelings about the police.
The building was in a rundown part of town across the bridge from more affluent areas.
She parked in the only available spot. With cars lining both sides of the street, it appeared that many locals didn’t work.
The cars were interspersed with trash cans, waiting to be picked up by garbage trucks. A bony dog sniffed the contents of one overturned container.
At the far end of the building, she found a stairwell leading to the second floor. The steps were stained and paint had peeled from the handrails.
She passed several people sitting on the stairs. The smell of marijuana deterred her from inquiring about Mary.
As she passed one apartment, she heard a baby crying. From another, the low growling of a dog.
There were no sounds coming from apartment 2D and the curtains were closed. On the off-chance the new tenant knew Mary, Lea knocked.
The door to apartment 2C opened instea
d. A bald-headed man wearing jeans and an undershirt came out.
“No one’s there,” he informed her, leaning against the wall.
He was unshaven and tattoos covered his arms. A toothpick dangled from his mouth.
“The place is vacant,” he said, giving her a once-over. “But I doubt you’re interested in renting.”
“I was looking for Mary. I didn’t realize she moved.”
He looked at her sideways. “She a friend of yours?”
“We went to school together,” she fibbed. “We lost touch until I ran into her a few weeks ago. I called to have lunch, but she doesn’t answer.”
He hooted, nearly swallowing the toothpick.
“That sounds like Mary. Her phone was always lost or the battery wasn’t charged.”
“Do you know where she lives now?”
“I can’t help you. Haven’t seen much of her since her old man split.”
“Why did Ronnie leave?”
“You know Ronnie?”
“Mary mentioned it’s hard for her without him.”
“She told me the same thing.” He paused and shuffled his feet. “She’s better off without him. Ronnie’s got a temper. No woman deserves to be treated the way he treated her.”
“What happened to him?”
“One night when he’d been drinking, he tore up the apartment and got himself arrested. As soon as he got out of jail, he took off. I haven’t seen hide or hair of him since.” He rubbed his bald pate. “I only saw Mary once after he left. It looked like she might be living on the streets.”
“That’s too bad. I would have liked to hook up with her.”
“Yeah, she’s good people. To be honest, I never figured out what she saw in Ronnie. I know she had problems in her past, but she was trying to stay clean for her kid. She needed someone to help her stay on the straight and narrow. I could have told her, Ronnie wasn’t the guy. His problems were worse than hers.”
“The last time we talked, she mentioned her husband’s gambling problems.”
“Besides that, he never held a job.”
“What kind of work did Ronnie do?”
“A variety of things, none for very long. He constantly got on the wrong side of his boss. Ronnie’s one of those people who thinks he knows better than the person in charge.”
He moved the toothpick around in his mouth.
“Unemployment benefits would have carried him between jobs, except for the gambling.”
“Where did he play?”
“At a local casino called the Card Club. It got shut down a while back. I hear the cops were after the owner.”
He snapped the toothpick in half and threw it on the ground.
“Ronnie was real out of sorts until the bartender took over and reopened the club. If Ronnie had any brains, he would have stayed away.”
Lea sensed she was about to get the information she came for.
“Why do you say that?”
“He made bad connections through his gambling. The night he got in trouble, he was scared.”
“Scared about what?”
“I invited him over for a drink. After a few shots of tequila, he admitted gambling put him heavily in debt. He bitched about a marker he couldn’t pay off. Talked wild about getting the guy he owed money off his back. I suggested the booze was talking and he should go home to sleep it off.”
“Did he leave?”
“He left all right. Grabbed my bottle of tequila on the way, saying he’d pay me back the next day.” He shook his head. “By the time Mary came home, he was out of his head with drink. He went ballistic and took it out on her. That was the night the cops came and threw him in jail.”
“Did you see him again?”
“The day he got out, Mary came asking for help crying that Ronnie would leave her. I went over and tried to talk sense into him, but he only wanted to get away.”
“To avoid being arrested again?”
“Someone scared him more than the police. That’s who he wanted to get away from.”
“Did Mary know who Ronnie was afraid of?”
“I don’t think so. Mary didn’t know half the stuff Ronnie was into. I never had a chance to tell her, but it was lucky for her she had to move.”
“Why would you say that if you think she ended up living on the streets?”
“Living on the streets is better than being dead.”
“Are you suggesting she might have ended up dead if she stayed?”
“A mean-looking dude came around not long after Ronnie took off. He wouldn’t say what he wanted, but it couldn’t have been good. Mary’s safer away from his clutches.”
A shudder ran up Lea’s spine. It was beginning to look like Pat did Mary a favor. She wanted to let Mary know, but first she needed to find out who was after Ronnie.
She flipped through her phone until she found the pictures Pat sent.
“Does anyone here look like the man who came looking for your neighbor?”
She handed her phone to the tattooed man.
He grimaced when he saw the picture of Mary’s battered face, but his face lit up when he pulled up the next picture.
“Hey, this is the guy.”
He studied the picture more closely.
“Yep, that’s him all right. There was a younger fella with him, but that’s the guy doing all the talking.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’d bet my bottom dollar except I swore off betting after seeing those guys after Ronnie.”
Lea took the phone and looked at the picture.
Energy pumped through her.
Now we’re getting somewhere.
• • •
She returned to her car and placed a call to report her findings.
“I hope you’ve got good news,” Pat said. “I’m getting tired of looking over my shoulder.”
“We’re getting closer.” Lea recounted her conversation with the bald-headed tenant in 2C and his identification of the man after Ronnie.
“Mary’s husband has a connection to none other than Mickey Flynn,” she concluded.
“Wow, you’re right. Sounds like we’re tightening the net.”
“The neighbor mentioned the Card Club reopened. How can that be if Mickey disappeared?”
“I hear his bartender took over.”
“Tim bought the business from Mickey?” Lea asked.
“When I heard the news, I ran a check. There’s no paper trail to indicate a change in ownership. All I know is Tim’s running the place now. I’ll stop by to ask how things are working out. It will give me a chance to look for Mickey.”
“How does Tim feel about you being a cop?”
“He didn’t know during the operation. Tom and I talked with him briefly during our search for Mickey. Tim insisted he had no idea about Mickey’s illegal gambling business. He was shocked to find out Mickey tried to kill me.”
“Did you believe him?”
“He’s hard to read. During my undercover posting as a cocktail waitress at the club, Tim was my boss. At the time, I considered him a stand-up guy.”
“It’s hard to believe Mickey and Tim aren’t in touch if Mickey’s back in town sending you threats. From what the neighbor said, it was Mickey who went to see Ronnie and he wasn’t alone.”
“I’m going to pay Tim another visit. We need to know if he’s the person the neighbor saw with Mickey.”
“How will you approach him about Ronnie?”
“I’ll say Ronnie missed a meeting with his parole officer.”
“You fooled Tim when you were undercover. It won’t be so easy a second time.”
“You could be right, but Tim may be the link to Mickey.”
“Shouldn’t you tell Tom? After all, there’s a warrant out for Mickey’s arrest.”
“The neighbor’s information isn’t proof Mickey’s in town. Let’s wait until we figure out what everyone is up to.”
“All right. I leave it up to you. Let me know if th
ere’s something you want me to do.”
“Actually, there is. Could you make a detour on your way home?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“I’m ready to have my interview with Cranston. Can you tail him after our meeting? I’d love to know if he goes anywhere near my place.”
Lea hesitated. “Being a cop, won’t he spot a tail?”
“He has no reason to think anyone is interested in his off-duty actions.”
“Got it. I’ll park outside the station. Let me know when you two finish.”
“Thanks, Lea.”
Pat walked into the meeting with Cranston feeling more confident of gaining the upper hand.
• • •
Thirty minutes later, Lea received a text from Pat.
Cranston leaving. Keep your eyes peeled for a rental car.
Lea slid down in her seat and watched a man fitting Cranston’s description leave the station. He went straight to a car with Speedy Rentals on the frame of the license plate.
She was parked across the street facing south, anticipating the route Cranston would follow to Pat’s apartment. When he came out of the lot and headed north, she made a hasty u-turn in the middle of the block.
Once on the freeway, she kept her distance.
She slowed at every off ramp, expecting him to exit. Her nerves were frazzled by the time his blinker flashed.
Two blocks later, he drove into a parking lot, got out, and locked the car.
Lea drove past the front of the building.
“Well, well,” she said aloud. “We’ve been following different trails to a common destination.”
She messaged Pat.
He didn’t go to your place.
She waited for Pat’s response.
That’s good. Where did he go?
Lea smiled as she sent her reply.
Mickey Flynn’s old haunt. The Card Club.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Integrity Gold and Silver was in a retail center south of the central business district on a major street parallel to the beach. The buildings were done in Spanish-style motif with orange tile roofs, hand-painted tiles, and ivy-covered trellises shading the walkways.
The office consisted of a reception area, an open area with a number of desks, and two private rooms with name plates for Ed and Danielle Swanson. At the rear was a work area with a copier, a printer, and a fax machine. There was a coffee machine on the counter, a stack of cups, and a basket of cream and sugar packets.
