Black Cat Weekly #89

Chapter 5-4

“I know who a couple of them are, but not much else. Gina and I argued a couple of times, I thought one or two of them were…um, a bad influence.”

“What does that mean?” Jody says. “Is it anything like when we say someone has ‘bad habits’?”

Mitt holds his mug up to his face for so long Teague wonders if he’s drowning in it. He finally lets the mug thud softly on his desk.

“Gina had a bit of a coke habit when we met,” he says. “I didn’t figure it out for a while, but one of her buds did, too, mostly at parties. We were all together for a party on New Year’s Eve, and Gina did a line or two with her. I threw a major fit. Told Gina she had to quit or we were through. I kept at her about it, and finally she went into re-hab.”

“That’s hard.” Jody touches his hand. “Really, really hard.”

Mitt looks down at his fists in his lap. “She went into treatment, and for the next couple of weeks I felt like I was walking over the Grand Canyon on a thread. One wrong step…”

“When was this, Mitt? That she went into rehab?”

“Um, we argued about it for a couple of weeks. She finally went in late January.”

Teague waits for Mitt to look at him.

“Did you know any of her neighbors? Someone she might have let in?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Did she keep her slider open? Out onto the deck in her apartment?”

“I never noticed. She had a few plants out on the deck, she’d go out to water them, but…”

When they leave, Teague feels the sun beating on his head and shoulders. He should have worn a hat, but he thinks a fedora would look ridiculous and he’s not a baseball cap kind of guy.

“Maybe Martin St. Vincent?” he says. “He might have a few ideas.”

“Maybe.” Jody looks at him. “In this sun, your red hair looks like fire.”

“Hot-blooded passion,” he says. “All the chicks love it.”

“All?” She c***s an eyebrow.

Teague nods at a Dairy Queen ** ahead.

“Want some ice cream?”

“Thanks anyway.”

“How about some candy?”

“Are you trying to talk dirty to me? No thank you.”

“You never let me do anything.”

She watches the light turn yellow ahead of them. They stopped when it turned red, and when it turned green again, she finally speaks.

“Not on the first date.”

“We’ve never had a first date.”

“See? It’s working.”

Teague wonders how he got from the Military Police to running a private investigations firm. The answer is easy: he hates taking orders. His ex-wife could have told him as much. Besides, he likes having Jody Silver on his right more than some Ensign who could bench press three hundred pounds. Especially with her martial arts training. He forces his mind back to business.

“Maybe we should talk to the Inspector General, too. See if she can add anything.”

Jody nods. “Sure. Right now, we’re stuck unless and until some of Gina’s friends get back, and we don’t even know if they’ll be any help.”

Two blocks later, Jody clears her throat.

“How many women have you seen since you and Marie split?”

“I don’t know.” He does, though. Two. Once each.

“You were divorced when we met.” Jody’s voice is soft enough to stroke a butterfly’s wings. “That’s coming up on two years.”

He glances down long enough to see her bare ring finger before looking at the traffic again.

“Let’s go back to the office and see if we can get in to see either St. Vincent or the Inspector General.”

“Okay.”

When he changes lanes, a car behind him does the same thing.

“Look behind us. Four cars back.”

Jody flips down the visor and pretends to check her lipstick She watches while Teague takes two more unnecessary turns and circles the block before coming back to their original route.

“A dark SUV, but that’s all I can tell. You think he’s following us?”

“It looks like the same guy that was behind us earlier.”

When they reach the parking lot by their office, the other car disappears around the next corner.

“Maybe we’re paranoid,” Jody says.

“Well, there are two of us, it would have to be a pair of noids, wouldn’t it?”

“I think I see why you don’t get many dates.”

The following morning, Inspector General Forrest Mercado’s receptionist reminds Teague of the Great Pyramid. Her hair is the color of worn pavement, her eyes slightly darker, and her tan dress is slightly smaller than a sand dune.

“Ms. F-M is very busy.” Her voice sounds faraway. “What is this in re?”

“It’s in re a police brutality case she’s investigating.” Teague hates biz-speak. “We hope she can give us some insights.”

“What case? Maybe I can save you some time.”

“The Stonebury PD raid on Henry Langloise’s residence last February.”

“Last winter? I don’t know how much she can tell you.”

“Because it’s still under investigation?”

The woman rolls her eyes. “That, too.”

“How many cases does the Inspector General investigate in a given year?” Jody asks.

“Not that many. Maybe a dozen. Most of them involve a police shooting, but sometimes there are other issues.”

“How many involve Stonebury?”

“A few.” The woman’s name plate makes Teague wonder how many mothers still name their daughters “Muriel.”

The woman picks up her phone, then leads her guests to the IG’s door.

“Come in.”

Angela Mercado-Forest stands parade-ground erect and has chiseled features emphasized by a razor cut probably as expensive as Weronika Chudzik’s. Her navy-blue suit makes her look even more military, and Teague restrains himself from saluting.

The office is the bastard offspring of a college library and Office Max, dark wood shelves, plush carpeting, and three beige filing cabinets that Teague thinks he can shred with a can opener. An ergonomic chair squats behind the mahogany desk that supports a computer monitor.

“Good day. What can I do for you?”

Teague presents his license and introduces himself and Jody. “We’d like to discuss one of your investigations in more detail. You’ve already gone to court over it, and we’re on your side.”

“What case?”

“The Stonebury police raid on the Langloise house last winter.”

The woman slides behind her desk and steeples her hands.

“There’s a reason God invented alcohol.”

“We’re looking at another case,” Teague says, “but that raid might have something to do with it. We know from Kennedy M’tsumbe that they’re stone-walling you.”

“Is his murder arrest the other case you’re looking at?”

Forrest-Mercado spreads her hands, palms up.

“Every time I file a request for more information, their Union rep steps in. I don’t know if he’s really protecting anyone or if he’s just power-mad, but the force follows his lead.”

“The courts aren’t on your side?”

“The Union has good lawyers, too. Well, you’re working with Chudzik. She’s good, and she can’t get anything from them either.”

The woman taps her nails on a letter opener. Teague wonders if anyone sends real letters anymore.

“They’ve delayed the next hearing until September. If they’d give me the damn information, I could probably close the case before then.”

“Just based on what you have, how does it look?”

“You know the story of the blind men touching different parts of an elephant and trying to describe it? Everything contradicts everything else.”

“Who fired the shot that crippled Christine Ferris?”

Forrest-Mercado leans back in her chair. Teague thinks she might be pretty if she could loosen up a little. But that might involve large quantities of the afore-mentioned alcohol.

“Beats the hell out of me. The slug from her lower back was so badly malformed by hitting her pelvis and spinal column that they couldn’t do a ballistics match. I think four different officers fired weapons, but I can’t even be sure of that.”

“How about the g*n the cops took from Langloise?”

“It had apparently been discharged, but nothing in their reports mentions finding a slug that matched that weapon, either. If I had to go on the stand, I couldn’t say with any confidence that the g*n was fired at that time or in that location.”

that“Jesus,” Jody snaps. “Are these guys stupid or crazy or what?”

“Yes,” Forrest-Mercado said. “And yes, and yes again. I’d love to do more with the damn case, but the State keeps cutting my budget. I have two full-time investigators and two full-time attorneys.”

“How long do you normally take investigating a complaint?” Teague asks.

“It depends. It usually takes months to get a complete picture, and that’s if the witnesses are forthcoming and the paperwork all shows up. The more witnesses, the crazier it gets.”

Teague shakes his head. “This incident would have had officers at front and back doors, and maybe back-up behind them. At least a dozen cops, and any neighbors who heard something, which is likely because shots were fired. That’s a lot of people and a lot of stories, isn’t it?”

“No s**t, Mr. Teague. I have the names of five officers, and none of them admit to firing any shots.”

Forrest-Mercado looks as if she’s trying not to grind her teeth.

“Were either Langloise’s or Ferris’s fingerprints on the Glock the police confiscated?”

“I don’t believe so.” The woman clicks her mouse and finds the report. She scrolls down, her lips moving slightly.

Jody crosses her legs on the chair. Teague suspects she’s still trying to find a comfortable way to sit in it.

“The police report doesn’t mention either Langloise or Ferris’s hands being checked for gunshot residue, either, at the scene or in the hospital,” Jody says. “That would go a long way to establishing that they shot at the officers, wouldn’t it, maybe even reason to absolve the police? But if it’s not there, the g*n is a big elephant in a small living room.”

Forrest-Mercado raises her eyebrows at Jody. “He didn’t hire you just for your looks, did he?”

“How were they dressed?” Jody asks. “Langloise and Ferris?”

The woman scrolls through the report again.

“Langloise came down the stairs in pajama pants. Christine Ferris wore a bathrobe that was much too big for her. I assume that was Langloise’s and she was in bed with him when the officers breached the doors.”

“Which indicates they weren’t expecting to be attacked. A d**g dealer would have probably been more prepared. And better armed.”

Forrest-Mercado nods.

Teague feels encouraged. “Neither Langloise nor Ferris has a police record, so why did the cops hit them?”

“They had a warrant.”

“Right. Apparently, a CI fingered Langloise. Have they used that person before so he had a record of being reliable? Why is the warrant not even in the material you’re looking at?”