Part 13 (2/2)
”Nothing new,” he said.
I was bone tired. They hadn't invited me, but I sat anyway, opposite Morales. Given the look of this, I wasn't making things any worse than they were.
Morales was running it. He had a coffee, and he took the opportunity to drink while he looked me over. He was the Denver Police golden boy. Everyone knew the position of Captain in the Major Crimes Unit was coming up in a few weeks and Morales was the anointed heir. But we also knew, all it needed was one major case to go wrong and he was out of it.
He'd want this wrapped up like a man underwater wants air.
The silence stretched. As a sergeant in Ops 4-10, I'd sat on the other side of this kind of table. Silence wasn't going to work with me. I was screwed one way or another. Every minute brought Colonel Laine closer. I picked a spot and stared at it. My spot was the vein in Morales' forehead.
”Detective Buchanan you already know,” Morales said finally. ”Lieutenant Nunez you've met briefly. He's with Internal Affairs. You know me presumably.”
I kept my face blank and nodded. IA involvement meant they were going to try and railroad me. Everything since the drive back had been to try and get me to say something they could use in the disciplinary process.
And by telling me about Nunez, Morales was trying to get a reaction. I was determined not to give it.
What I did notice was that he didn't have the recorders on, otherwise he'd have introduced himself and me.
”At the moment, I'm chairing and this is an unofficial meeting,” Morales confirmed it.
Interesting.
Buchanan stirred. I bet he'd pressed for an immediate IA case against me. He'd realized I knew things about this case that weren't in my report.
I could pull the plug now. I could demand a private conversation with a senior police officer and land everything in the colonel's lap. Or I could just say nothing. I tried to think what would serve the colonel's needs better, and regretfully arrived at the conclusion he'd want this dragged out. He'd want to be in here before Morales and others started thinking about correct procedures and authorizations. I needed delaying tactics.
”What's on the agenda, Lieutenant?” I asked.
Morales didn't like that. I was supposed to be trembling with shock. Instead I just felt tired. Tired of half-lies. Tired of walking the tightrope. Tired of walking alone.
The pulse in Morales' forehead picked up.
Buchanan couldn't restrain himself. ”You don't seem to realize how serious this is-”
”What is?” I interrupted him.
Morales gestured and Buchanan shut up ungracefully.
”Why did you join the police, Farrell?” Morales said.
Because it was a job open to me that the army would allow.
Out loud, I said: ”To use my skills in something worthwhile.”
Morales' eyes narrowed. ”Is it frustrating to you, as an army veteran with all those skills, not to be able to contribute as much as you think you can?”
I thought I could see where he was heading. He was building a case for me giving in to frustration and trying to start my own investigation. I just shrugged.
He had my folder in front of him. It would have my firearms scores and hand-to-hand reports, but, of course, it would also have my scores on legal theory.
”And you find that tempts you to sidestep things, ignore procedure? Because getting the job done is the ultimate goal?”
”Tempts me? Yes. Everyone gets tempted.”
The interview wasn't going the way any of them expected. I wasn't overawed by sitting in front of senior ranks. They kept forgetting that I wasn't a fresh-faced recruit with no experience. And what they didn't know was that, short of proving I'd committed a serious felony, the power of their little courtroom procedure wouldn't mean anything when the colonel arrived. All I had to do was stick it out.
Nunez was getting as restless as Buchanan. He leaned forward to speak. Morales let him.
Nunez slipped a page from a folder and pushed it in front of me.
”Is that you?”
It was a printout of a couple of stills from the security camera on the door at Club Agonia. One with the makeup and one without.
”Yeah. That's me.”
”What were you doing there?”
”Dancing.” I went on the offensive. ”Look, you've obviously spent a lot of time investigating me.” Instead of trying to find the murderers. ”You have some photos of me visiting a club on my day off, you've talked to my partner, got him to ask me questions. Have you got some allegations you want to make?”
Nunez ignored that. ”You're saying it's entirely coincidental that you turn up at a club where two of the staff have been murdered in the same way?”
”Yes.”
”Why were you at the club?” Nunez said.
”I already answered that.”
”How do you know the victims?” Morales asked.
”I didn't. They were on the door in the club. I drove the girl back home.”
”Is that another thing you do as a sideline?”
”What do you mean?”
Buchanan lost it. ”Either you were doing bodyguard work for this club,” he shouted, ”or you found something out and were trying some half-witted investigation. Either way, it's your fault-”
”Shut up, Buchanan.” I was shocked that Morales reprimanded him in front of me. Morales had to be completely p.i.s.sed off to do that, and Buchanan knew it. He subsided.
I wasn't going to let him. It was like a little demon had taken control of my voice. ”There wasn't anything to investigate, unless you think I can predict the future. And is that how you dress up to do your bodyguard work, Buchanan?” I shoved the pictures in front of him. His eyes bulged, but a look from Morales kept him quiet. Nunez got the same look.
When Morales was sure he had the meeting back under control, he turned to me again.
”So, your arrival there was coincidence. You didn't know anyone there. How is it you ended up giving an employee of the club a lift home?”
”The owner asked me. There'd been a bit of trouble earlier in the week. She asked me to drive Valery Hawks home.”
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