by Anne Hagan
“They’re in the front parlor,” I whispered, “in a compromising position and there’s drug paraphernalia on the table in front of them.”
Harding waved his hand toward the front door, looked at me and shrugged. He was asking if we should go in and interrupt their little party. I nodded my assent.
Staying along the wall, I worked my way back to the front door in the center of the Victorian. Shane came up the front steps quietly and went straight for the door. He opened the screen door carefully, trying again not to make a sound. Back still against the wall, I reached over and tried the handle of the main door. It was unlatched. We were in luck and we had the element of surprise on our side.
I held up one finger, then two, then three. Shane, all in one motion, drew his service weapon and kicked the door the rest of the way open. I drew as well and we both called out, “Police! Nobody move!”
Shane faced right immediately as he got around the door and moved quickly into the parlor with me on his heels. I watched over his shoulder as Perez tried to jump up. He knocked Liberty Tracy over from her already kneeling position on the floor. She fell against the coffee table hard enough that the bong toppled over and other items went skittering across the surface.
“I said don’t move!” Shane aimed his service weapon directly at Liberty. We both moved all the way into the room which reeked of marijuana and took up positions facing the two.
“You,” I pointed my .45 at the man that I was now sure was Estaban Perez, “Now you can get up! Do it nice and slow!”
He put his hands down on the couch to lever himself up. His once hard cock was deflating fast. “Can I put my shit away man?”
I nodded. Turning to Shane, I said, “Search him.” All he had on were jeans and jockey shorts but you just couldn’t be too careful in our line of work.
I moved over to Liberty who was now seated on the floor. “You stand up now too.” The immediate danger diffused, I holstered my weapon while she got up shakily. She hadn’t uttered a word.
“This is a private party man. What are you busting in here for?” Perez complained as Shane patted him down.
“For this!” Harding held up a tiny baggie containing a single pill that he’d pulled from Estaban’s right front jeans pocket. “Care to explain?”
Liberty Tracy looked lost, like she was in a trance. What was happening between Harding and Perez didn’t appear to be registering with her. Rather than pat her down, as had been my intention, I helped her backward into the orange colored arm chair I’d sat in myself my first time in the home. I didn’t know for sure if she hit her head hard when she got knocked over or if she was under the influence of some mixture of the drugs that were present.
“Libby does your head hurt?” There was no response. “Are you in pain?” Again, there was no response. I felt the back of her head for swelling but I found nothing.
Turning to Perez, I asked, “What did she take?”
He played dumb, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I looked at the stuff that was still on the table and what had slid to the floor. Besides the obvious marijuana, there were pills that I was sure were Quaaludes and barbiturates and there were some tabs that were probably LSD. Nothing resembled the pill Harding was currently holding.
I gingerly took the baggie from Shane and held it up to Perez. “Let me guess; DMT?” A look of fear flitted across his eyes and then disappeared.
“D-M what?”
“DMT; the drug you gave her last Monday.”
“I didn’t give her nothing...no...no...D-M whatever!” He was pretending the pill wasn’t DMT and that he didn’t know what DMT was but his eyes said different.
“And I suppose you didn’t bring any of this stuff here either?” I pointed at the table.
He looked at Liberty. I could just see the wheels turning in his head. If he laid everything that was there on her, he lost at whatever game he was playing with her. He didn’t answer me.
“Libby, look at me. Libby?” She finally looked up at me. “Can you tell me where all of this stuff came from?” I again indicated the stuff on the coffee table.
Her eyes shifted to Perez and held but she didn’t speak.
“Cuff him and read him his rights. I’m calling for back-up to do a vehicle search and for transport.”
“You ain’t searching my vehicle without a warrant!”
“We don’t need one hotshot! We have probable cause.”
Shane cuffed him and started to Mirandize him.
“I want my lawyer.”
“Detective, please go through the dining room there and take him into the kitchen. We need to separate him from her.”
Once Shane had moved Perez out of the room, I started to work on Liberty Tracy. “Libby, can you talk to me?”
She looked at me and attempted to speak but words just wouldn’t come.
“I’m going to ask you a few questions and you just do the best you can to answer, okay?” Her eyes were focused on me and she seemed to be listening but she didn’t answer or nod. “Can you tell me what you took?”
Almost imperceptibly, she shook her head no.
“Libby did you smoke pot?”
She nodded.
Well, she may have at first, but she’s awful out of it for pot...
“How about these pills?” I pointed at the downers. “Did you take these?”
She nodded again.
“Okay. So now I know what we’re dealing with.” It was pointless to try and question her anymore. She wasn’t anywhere close to her usual feisty, law enforcement leery self. I wouldn’t be able to get anything useful out of her until the drugs were out of her system. I radioed for an ambulance.
A sweep of the SUV turned up a wad of cash, more pot and lots of Ecstasy. I had the vehicle impounded and Perez transported over to the station for booking. Liberty Tracy, meanwhile was transported to Genesis for another night of detox.
Since Perez was insisting on a lawyer, he’d just have to enjoy a night with the drunks and junkies in holding. He’d be arraigned on Tuesday and we’d hold him as long as we could.
I told Shane to go home and get some rest. He and I and Rice would hit it hard on Tuesday morning to bring in Rojas and get them both talking, lawyers be damned. We still had McClarnan to find too.
What a day!
Chapter 20 – Comparing Notes
Monday Evening, June 2nd 2014
It was after 9:00 PM when I was finally able to head home. The occasional long day is a part of the job that I had never really given a second thought to before now but, with someone to go home to, it was frustrating.
I couldn’t wait to hear about Dana’s first day back in the saddle. As soon as I was out of the city limits, I hot footed it down every back country road shortcut to Morelville that I knew of. I managed to make it into the village in a little over 20 minutes. I was pulling into the driveway just before 9:30.
There were no lights on in the front portion of the house which meant Kris had already run the kids upstairs and everyone was settling into bed. The school day starts early for Beth and Cole with a bus pick up around 6:30 AM. I hoped Dana hadn’t turned in when they did and she was still up.
I entered through the side door into the kitchen. Dana powered her way into the room on her crutches to greet me.
“Long day?”
“Very, but you’re a sight for sore eyes again tonight.”
She laughed. “Hardly! I’m in sweatpants and a tee shirt...”
“Dana, you’re beautiful.” I moved toward her and pulled her to me, crutches and all, for a hug. “You feel so good...” She looked up at me. I couldn’t help myself. I dipped my head to kiss her.
I started gently at first. I touched her lips with mine and then I used my tongue to trace her bottom lip. She opened her mouth and granted me entrance. I took my time; my tongue moving slowly against hers, tasting her and enjoying the feeling of warm wetness as her tongue began to tangle with mine. I snaked one
arm around her waist and laced the other hand in her hair pressing her harder against me. She leaned in even more, lost in the moment and forgetting all about her crutches until one clattered to the floor and startled us both out of our kiss induced haze.
Once I was sure she was steady leaning on a single crutch, I bent to pick up the fallen one. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” She smiled and my heart felt like it would melt.
“Well, alright then, I’m not sorry for kissing you and just about knocking you down but I am sorry to be getting home so late. I’m dying to know how your day went but, well, I don’t want to keep you up if you’re tired.”
“Hon, it’s okay. I know what’s going on for you right now and I’m anxious to hear about your day too. Are you hungry? Do you want to eat something and fill me in?”
“Naw. I don’t like to eat this late. How about we get you settled into your bed and you fill me in first and then I can give you an overview?”
“Deal.”
We made our way into my den turned Dana’s bedroom. While she got settled into her bed, I took my service weapon out of my holster and locked it away in the lock box I keep in her closet and then I hung up my gun belt. It was a relief to finally take it off.
I moved behind the desk and sat in my chair. Putting a little distance between myself and a bedded down Dana seemed like the best course of action right now. I smiled at her. “So, spill it; how did it go today?”
“Baby, I have to admit, it was rough physically and mentally. I spent the day trying to find a serviceable office swivel chair and a way to keep my leg elevated on the physical side and playing an extreme game of catch up on the mental side. There’s so much that’s happened with my case in the last three weeks that I’m going to need at least a week to catch up. The thing is, I may not have it because there’s so much interagency fighting going on that the whole thing could come off the rails for me any time.
“I’d be willing to bet if you get your physical needs under control, you’ll be able to tackle the mental stuff.”
Dana burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny? What did I say?” When she continued to laugh, it finally dawned on me. I shook my head and threw up my hands, “You know what I meant!”
She took a deep, cleansing breath. “Yes, I know but I needed that. Anyway, I’m going to spend the rest of the week getting up to speed so I won’t look like an idiot when we start prosecuting these folks.”
She shook her head. “Look, you know all about my case. Let’s talk about what you’ve got going on.”
It was my turn to shake my head. “Honestly, my day was nothing short of crazy. I started off by sitting down with my detectives to divide and conquer and ended up having to restrain myself from strangling one of them. It was up and down from there.” I filled her in on Shane’s interview with Michael Peng and on our trip out to see Liberty Tracy and what we found there.
“Back up a minute Mel. What made you want to go and see Liberty Tracy in the first place? Why did you and your detective head over there?”
I jumped literally and figuratively. “Oh my goodness Dana; thank you!” I pulled my laptop toward me and booted it up.
“Thank you for what?”
“For reminding me what I’d thought of before everything got sidetracked by Perez being at Libby’s.”
“What did you think of?”
“When Shane told me that Michael Peng overheard Manny Rojas, the cook, saying the restaurant would all be his someday I remembered something Commissioner Bell – who also called me today, by the way – said. He said he was working on a big downtown development project. They’ve been talking about a major overhaul of a several block area of downtown Zanesville for a few years now. Apparently, they’re ready to solicit bids. I wondered if the area around the restaurant was affected and if Manny knew something that Liberty Tracy doesn’t.”
“Ahhhhhh!”
I got into my web browser and started searching for news about the project. Dana got up and looked over my shoulder. What we found was a real eye opener.
Chapter 21 – Sticks
Tuesday, June 3rd, 2014
“We have to find Ryan McClarnan!” I was standing alongside the back to back desks of Harding and Rice. “Today! That’s key.” I looked back and forth between them. For once, two sets of eyes were fully engaged and not just one.
“Here’s what’s got to happen: Shane; you go over to Genesis and interview Liberty Tracy.” I filled him in on what I’d found online overnight. “If she says what I think she finally will, your next step will be to round up Manny Rojas and bring him in for questioning. Make sure Perez is brought up from holding so he’s there to see it when you bring Rojas in. We can’t make Perez talk without his lawyer unless he volunteers to but Rojas hasn’t been around the block like Perez has. You can probably get him to spill everything if you play it right and you might get Perez talking too even if it’s to save his own ass.”
Harding nodded. “On it boss.”
I eyeballed his counterpart, “Kelly, I’ve already tried all of the traditional ways to trace McClarnan. He’s not traceable but I have a pretty good idea that he’s living in his grandfather’s old cabin that’s hidden on land that isn’t his. We have to find that cabin and, if possible, any illegal operations he may be running there or nearby.”
“Ethan Funk may be working for McClarnan. I’m going to pull him into interrogation and try to work on him again for a little bit. Meanwhile, you see what you can find out about a man by the name of Levi Jones.” I gave her the information I’d gotten from Aiden Quinn’s assistant Maureen. “Once you’ve pulled his rap sheet, bring it up for me to review then I need you to work on laying on a chopper, a light plane, whatever you can get to get us up in the air over the area where Quinn land meets the Blue Rock State Forest.”
“Quinn?”
“The land that belongs to the Aiden Quinn Jr. and Sr. families?” Her face was a complete blank. I tried again, “They own at least half of the oil producing wells in the area?” Still nothing.
“Look, pull that rap sheet and bring it to me and then take about 10 minutes to figure out who the hell they are and what they own in the area I just outlined and then you need to get on getting us a flyover! I’ll be back down here by 10:00, ready to go. Now get on it!”
I walked out shaking with rage. There’s no way she grew up here and yet she’s that dumb! What the hell game is she trying to play?
My gut has been telling me that Ethan Funk runs shine for Ryan McClarnan or someone in the McClarnan clan. His lawyer tried to get him bond at his arraignment but, because of the amount of illegal liquor he was transporting and the amount of damage to county property that he was directly responsible for, his bail request was denied. He was being held at the county jail pending his trial or a later on plea agreement.
As an already indicted and arraigned defendant that is represented by legal counsel, I can’t legally interrogate Funk again unless he waives his rights. He’s young – just recently turned 22 – and he has no prior record. He’s the type of mark the long time criminals in the county look for to do their bidding. Caught at well over the legal limit for OVI in Ohio and transporting that much ‘shine, most older defendants who’d been around the block before would have pled out and would already be in one of our state prisons serving their time.
I was hoping that spending a few days locked up for the first time had started to change his world view a little bit and that he might waive his rights and talk to me.
I was right. When one of my jailers brought him up to interrogation from the lockup, he looked bedraggled, tired and ready to tell all. I read him his Miranda rights again and then, in front of a witness and running video and audio recording devices, he signed a waiver.
I started off easy. “Do you understand why I had you brought up here?”
He nodded wordlessly. He had a case of the jitters that may have been from alcohol detox or drug withdrawal or he
may have just been extremely nervous.
“Has your lawyer has explained the charges filed against you and the sort of punishment you could face if you’re found guilty?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” I paused and leaned back in a little more relaxed pose and then jumped right in; “How long have you been running moonshine?”
Funk looked down at the table in front of him. “It was my second run.”
“When we caught you, that was only the second time you’d transported moonshine?”
“Yeah.”
I didn’t believe him but at least he’d just admitted to transport in this instance. With the physical evidence and his admission, our case – good without the confession – was now airtight. I didn’t want just him though. I wanted the man I suspected to be his boss.
“Who were you running for?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“That’s what I just said. I don’t know who the producer is.”
“Where did you get the ‘shine?”
He looked everywhere in the room but at me. “I pick it up from a drop point.” He was too young to know that no cop more than a year out of the Academy would buy his story.
“Not right from the still site?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
He hesitated for several long seconds then he popped out with, “I was told I’d be as good as dead if I even tried to find the still.”
“So how do you know when to pick up and where the drop point is?”
“Well, um, my contact lets me know.”
“Your contact got a name?”
“I dunno.” He’s the dealers’ guy.”
Dealer? Interesting word choice. “You don’t know if he has a name?”
Funk looked at the ceiling and waited several long seconds before he replied.. “Everybody calls him ‘Sticks’ on account of he lives out in the sticks. That’s all I know. These people, they’re real cloak and dagger. Don’t nobody know anybody’s real name.”
