A Case For Conners

Chapter 11

Chapter 10: When You Bleed Blue…

Conners took a hard gulp and tugged at the new shirt collar at his neck. He hated the damn thing. It felt like a noose slowly strangling his originality and personality until he was just a regular boiled-down cop.

"You get used to it," Lawrence said, watching his discomfort. "You should consider yourself lucky. Most of us get stuck in the damn patrol outfit for years before we can seriously consider detective work."

"Well, you wouldn't have me at all if that were the case. No way you're getting me to wear a tie. Can't stand this thing as it is."

"Don't worry, you learn to put up with the clothes."

"Learn to obey you mean," he muttered under his breath.

Bill had never liked professional clothes and Conners understood why. Bill was the kind of man who would happily meet the president in jeans and a t-shirt before he would wear a suit. It was pointless to him. Not to mention running was much harder in dress shoes than in his old slip-on shoes.

"Hey, at least we can still wear jeans," she said laughing.

If there was a good thing about this job so far, it was Lawrence. She was infectious and anytime she laughed, the crap he was mad about went away for a few moments. If hadn't been for her he would've likely quit already. They were going to check on a case that might actually be interesting and he was grateful.

Conners had been through an entire week of angry boyfriends, upset wives and such boring cases that hadn't taken two minutes to actually solve. There were other factors of the job to work on though.

There was paperwork, stakeouts, paperwork, field reports, paperwork, morning debriefings, paperwork, planning suicide from boredom and of course more f*****g paperwork.

"This cannot be a bust, I need a buzz here."

"Come on, we had that missing baby case."

"A child crawling into an open crawlspace isn't a case, it's bad parenting."

"Well, when things are quiet that means we're doing our job well, right?"

"But things aren't quiet," he said sighing. "We just don't seem to get anything good."

"Oh, sorry," she said sarcastically. "It's too bad decent people can't die to make you all excited."

"It's not about the death," he said. "It's about the interest. A regular boyfriend hack-and-s***h is just as boring as that lady who keyed her boyfriend's car because of the cheating."

"You are impossible."

"Really, I'd prefer a case where a lady's house was broken into with nothing taken, or maybe if someone popped another motorist's tires… something that would actually make me have to think and ponder for a motive… anything but this crap we've got."

"Well this should be good. Supposedly, a fish trainer got eaten by sharks."

"Ok…" he admitted. "You have my attention. Was he new?"

"Hardly, been there for over eight years."

"Let's go, but if this ends up being a blue balls case, I'm going to explode."

"Thanks for that image," she said rolling her eyes.

The aquarium freaked Conners out. First off, he didn't like the water. He could not swim, or at least felt pretty sure he couldn't, and didn't like to be in water at all. He refused anything more than a shower or the afternoon rain. When there was a thunderstorm, he seriously considered staying indoors. This was a phobia of his that he couldn't explain.

Maybe he'd almost drowned before the hospital, or perhaps it was just an odd psychological tick in his brain. Heaven knows he had more than enough to excuse a fear of water. Nevertheless, water parks, aquariums, lakes or even parks with large fountains never sat well with him.

He also hated fish. This was less of a fear and more that they disgusted him. They had bones but wriggled unpleasantly. When he'd met Bill, the old man had tried to take him fishing. It wasn't too bad until Conners had accidentally picked up a fish by the gill. Disturbed by the strange creature, he'd hastily thrown it back at the water, and remained in Bill's truck until it was time to go.

The idea of sitting outside and thinking while relaxing was enjoyable. He often would do it now, even after Bill's death, but fishing was right out.

"I can't go in," he said softly.

"Sorry?"

"You can… take this one. I can just examine the pictures and case notes…"

"What's wrong?" she asked, concern and confusion flashing across her face.

"Nothing," he lied. "I… need to use the toilet."

"Well, I'm calling bullshit on that."

"Normally you'd be right. However, someone decided that the two Italian restaurants we passed just weren't up to snuff, so we ate breakfast at a f*****g taco truck…"

Lawrence grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him in while he continued to rant about her choice in food styles, barely even noticing what she was doing.

"You must be with the police," said a fat man moving towards them.

Conners mind broke him down. He wore a fine suit, clearly upper class, and if he was concerned about the police, he was likely the owner of the water death trap around them. He had clubbed fingers and his suit was a size too small. This wasn't due to recent weight gain; the man was trying to appear thinner than he was.

Vain-unmarried.

Checking the man's left hand, he could tell it had never bore a wedding ring, at least not for any length of time. His tie was pure silk, and the suit had satin edges. The completely mismatched too-small suit suggested he must live alone and had no one who would give him advise on his appearance. Possibly he was one of those people who buried themselves in their work. Conners wasn't sure, but he was getting a vibe that it wasn't his job that woke the man up every morning.

"Detective Michael J. Conners, and this is Sergeant Jessica 'the badass' Lawrence."

"I can't decide if I should be flattered or insulted," Lawrence said softly.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Luis Vanderhill. I own this establishment."

"Luis, got any identification?" Conners asked.

He didn't actually care if Luis did or not, but he did want to see what was in the man's wallet. Newly weds, single men, and parents all had distinctly different wallets. A single man carried a wallet full of his credit cards and maybe a business card or two, and very little actual cash. A husband would habitually keep coupons and other connections to the wife in their wallet, and a little cash. If they were a father, they kept some connection the kids in the folds and several small bills.

In fact, the one thing that was completely boring in the wallet was the ID the man pulled out. Sure enough, Conners saw a picture of a young teenage girl in the wallet. She was dark-skinned, and had dyed blonde hair. Vanderhill didn't strike Conners as a pedophile, or someone who would keep pictures of random women in his wallet. So, it was most likely an adopted daughter.

Conners pretended to examine the ID while he pondered the picture he'd seen. If he did need any of the information from the license, his photographic memory could pull it back up perfectly.

"So what happened to your man?" asked Lawrence.

"What do you mean?" asked Vanderhill.

"Typically shark trainers don't decide to check them for cavities from the inside. At least, that's my understanding."

"Ok, look," said Vanderhill going very quiet. "I don't want to really admit this… but he had a habit of taunting the fish… I caught him at it once, but I could never get him to stop. I was honestly going to fire him once we got a replacement, but… then this happens."

"Other employees ever see him taunting the sharks?" asked Lawrence.

"Plenty. Ask around the others will tell you. He was apparently trying some hotshot s**t. I don't know why he always did it, but it was a pain in the ass trying to make him stop that."

"Thanks Vanderhill, we'll just take a look around for a bit, all right?"

"Of course, detectives. Let me know if I can help you."

"Will do."

Conners stuck to Lawrence like glue as they explored the aquarium. Being surrounded by water held back by only a pane of glass was worse than being in a thunderstorm. Despite his absolute dread at being surrounded by Poseidon's army of the slimy, scaled and gilled demons, he was able to scope out the place.

While he was sure that a fish could surely slay even the fiercest of men, the aquarium had several very good safety procedures in place. Rails were everywhere as well as security cameras and extra oxygen tanks.

"How the hell does a place safer than most construction sites end up with a trainer getting eaten by sharks?" Lawrence asked softly.

"Because they are evil beings who seek the destruction of humanity as a whole."

"All right, when we get back to the station, we are talking about this… you hating fish thing."

"Fine, but right now there's a case. Let's go to the shark room."

They passed the police tape and examined every inch of the room. Conners struggled to find anything and there was nothing. f*****g nothing… There wasn't even an absence of anything that was suspicious. There was no secret stash of porn, no drugs. The locker just had the underwater suit in it. Nothing seemed wrong, but a man had died doing a job he'd done a thousand before.

"There's nothing here for us," said Lawrence. "Unless you're picking up something?"

"Not a damn thing… we need a camera to examine the tank."

"No, you're going in the water."

"The f**k I am."

"The f**k you're not."

"There are sharks… in the water."

"That would be the point of the shark tank," she said sighing. "Get in there or I will push you in."

"You wouldn't want the paperwork."

"Any amount of paperwork is worth making you uncomfortable. You don't even have to worry about the sharks, they moved them for the investigation."

"Did they move the water?"

"Yeah, that's just your imagination sloshing around in there."

Conners leaned over the edge of pool, anxiously grasping the ladder the trainers used to get out. He looked down and saw the horrible moving death trap that was the shark tank. Right as he was making up his mind to not go into the water, he felt a hand push him in the small of his back, forcing him to fall into the tank.

He plunged into its depths and saw bubbles fly past his head in a desperate attempt to reach the surface. He kicked hard, trying to join them, but despite his struggling he just continued to sink. Panicking, he felt his shoes hit the bottom of the tank and used it was a platform from which to launch himself towards the precious air.

As his head broke the surface, droplets flew everywhere. He gasped, bringing air back into his lungs, mentally thanking the universe he hadn't been stuck in a watery grave. As the fear of drowning slowly left him, he heard laughter. Looking over at Lawrence he saw her rolling on the floor holding her sides.

"Oh my goodness, you looked so pathetic. Oh man, water's a good look on you. Humbles you, you know?"

"Yeah, nearly dying will do that to you," Conners snapped.

Honestly, he wasn't mad. Sure he could be, but the sight of her laughing and actually enjoying herself filled him with happiness. Sure, Lawrence was a dignified badass, but it was great to just see her having fun and laughing… like a regular person.

"Oh it's not like I would've let you drown. You're too valuable for that. Here, take these goggles and tell me if you can find anything."

He took the goggles from her and used them to begin his examination of the tank, carefully and always with a rope tied to the ladder, just in case.

Sadly, his examination told him nothing new. There were traces of blood in the water and on the walls, but that didn't tell them anything they hadn't known before.

"Nothing," he said. "Big fat nothing. Our victim report turn up anything cool?"

"Not a lot, but there are three charges of assault. Guy's got a temper."

"Think he wanted to punch a shark?"

"Doubt it," she said. "We aren't all as hot-headed as you."

"Well let's break for lunch and think this through. At least this is interesting."

She nodded and pulled him out of the water. As she did this, Conners found another factor of water that he did not like. He felt like he weighed a ton, and if so much as a slight breeze drifted across them he was turned into a popsicle. He wasn't sure, but a sixth sense was telling him that his eventual death would involve water somehow.

As they walked into the hallway, Conners let his eyes fly over the scene. He was so used to all this, the securing of a crime scene. He saw officers taking statements, forensic guys taking DNA samples and several scared employees whispering to each other. So why were all these familiar scenes so new? They were so strange.

Slowly he realized what was different.

Now, he was on the other side. He wasn't the lone ranger, taking justice into his own hands. He wasn't the one deciding right from wrong. He was just a cop… but was that so wrong? Why should he be the one picking out what was right? Who made him God, that he should decide all this? He wasn't a great judge, or even a good moralist. He was just a caseworker. Conners was just a detective. How could he pick whether or not a murder was justified? And if it was justified, should the killer still pay for the crime?

The law was solid on it. If you killed, you paid… maybe that was right…

As his eyes landed on Vanderhill, he noticed he was hugging a crying girl. It was the same teenager he'd had in the wallet, and she was holding him for dear life.

He checked their hairlines, hair color and the triangle between eyes and nose. There was no doubt about the relationship to him now.

"Why didn't anyone say he had a daughter?"

"Sorry?" Lawrence turned to him. "Who has a daughter?"

"Vanderhill, he's hugging her now."

"Oh yeah," she said. "That's Juliet. I think she's adopted."

"f*****g morons. I should've met her first."

"Why does it matter?"

"Come on," he said, walking over to the father and daughter. "Romeo dies. Juliet is distressed, and you think their relationship isn't important?"

"What, you think she's going to kill herself too?"

"No… you're taking my metaphor too far now."

"Well stop talking in f*****g metaphors then."

"Boy hits on girl, daddy doesn't like boy. Dad tells boy to go, boy says no. Daddy kills boy, daughter cries."

"Lawrence realizes Conners is crazy, and leaves him to his unproven and unprovable theories."

"It's unproven, but I can prove it... and unprovable isn't a word."

"It is so a word!"

Conners walked confidently over to the father and daughter and knelt down in front of the girl. She looked up at him and he could clearly see her puffy eyes, and could see the bruises on her check and forearms. Daddy hadn't caused those. Trying to reach out for some tenderness, he put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Hi sweetheart," he said gently. "My name is Detective Michael J. Conners. I know you're upset, but I have to ask you something. Had you had s*x with him yet?"

"Excuse me!" yelled Vanderhill.

"Sorry," said Conners, feigning an apologetic tone. "That was insensitive. What I mean is had your boy-toy promised to really love you before he took that last swim?"

She broke down crying again, and Vanderhill stood up.

"She didn't have s*x with… with… that asshole!"

"No, maybe not. But he did beat her, and you knew about it."

"I…" Vanderhill stuttered, then restarted. "Of course I knew. I knew what he was the moment I met him, but I couldn't do a damn thing! And you assholes wouldn't stop it! Would you!?"

"I would've. You could've come to any detective and we would've…"

"Done nothing! I did go to you bastards! I was promised you'd look into it. Next thing I knew, the charges were being dropped; 'not enough evidence,' they said. What more evidence did you need? Look at her."

"So what did you do?"

"I… didn't mean for him to die."

Conners studied Vanderhill's face. He was angry and ashamed. He was telling the truth; he'd never meant to actually kill the boy.

"You just wanted to make him stop hitting her…" Conners muttered.

"Exactly. I broke the bastard's nose and I'd do it again. I couldn't have guessed he'd fall into the f*****g tank. I think the sharks smelled the blood and…"

"They went at him."

"Yeah," said Vanderhill. "I swear I didn't mean to get him killed. I won't say I miss him, but the family didn't deserve it, I know. I was just trying to protect my girl. She's precious to me."

Conners sighed, pondering this. Sure, Vanderhill had killed someone, but it wasn't as if he didn't have reason, and he hadn't actually killed the boy with his own hands… not really. Not to mention he definitely understood and regretted what happened, and wouldn't hurt anyone else. Wasn't that what prisons were for anyway, to rehabilitate people?

This wasn't some criminal mastermind or even a burglar. This was man who had tried to protect his daughter and committed a horrible mistake.

"Mr. Vanderhill," said Conners. "I understand your need to protect your family. And maybe the kid did deserve to get hit; I would've probably done it myself. I won't arrest you because of an accident."

"You… you won't?"

"No… I'm not that sort of person. I can put in my report that the sharks were provoked into attacking him. I won't even be lying."

Vanderhill reached forward and clasped Conners on the shoulder warmly.

"Thank you detective," he said, tears in his eyes. "I won't forget you."

Conners nodded. It was as he went back to Lawrence that he let the air out of his lungs. He felt he'd made the right call. Sure maybe not legally, but morally… Vanderhill didn't really deserve prison for trying to save his daughter where the police had failed.

"So," Lawrence said. "How was your hunch?"

"Completely off," he lied. "You know… can't be right every time. How about some lunch? I am starving."

"Sure… what's happening with Vanderhill?"

Conners turned around see none other than the lieutenant placing cuffs on Vanderhill's wrists, and reading him his rights.

"Hey!" he shouted out, running back up to the men. "What's going on?"

"Take Vanderhill out of here," said the lieutenant to two uniformed officers. "Conners! Great work on this one, a uniform overheard him earlier. Seriously, great work."

"But I… why are you even here?"

"Well this was something that actually seemed a little unique. You've done well on your standard cases, but I wanted to see how you'd hit a curve ball, and you didn't disappoint."

"I wasn't… I was wrong!"

"No you weren't," said the lieutenant, coldly. "You solved it cold. I'm going to excuse that little scene you almost had about letting him go. You aren't a judge, you're a cop. Start acting like it. You aren't bringing the law into your own hands here. You arrest people who break the law. The court decides their fate."

Conners felt a rage fly through him, it was so unfair. In a fury, he ripped the badge off his belt and threw it at the lieutenant's feet.

"f**k you!" he shouted. "I told you I wanted to work cases, and that man doesn't deserve jail for what he did."

Several officers were staring now, and the employees began talking to each other animatedly. A few started recording the fight with their phones.

"Not our call," said the lieutenant. "We find people who break the law and put them to justice!"

"And what about the daughter?" he screamed, hearing his voice echo through the building. "When she was being beaten by that bastard, did we get her justice?"

"That was a case with no proper evidence, we couldn't do anything."

"No seriously, f**k you!" Conners said, holding up a finger and walking out. "f**k you and your f*****g bureaucratic bullshit! I'm done; I'm going to go back to working out of my f*****g home and stop the real bad guys. You can go back to sitting on your thumbs and writing speeding tickets!"

"You walk out and you'll not have my help anymore!"

"Good!" he yelled, walking back towards Lawrence. "I see how those around you end up!"

The lieutenant didn't say a word further to him, and Conners wasn't about to go back and apologize for anything he'd said. Bill had been right… always right… The police weren't after the interests of the people, it was a job. Sure there may be good ones, like Lawrence…

"Hey…" she said coming up to him. "That was… well… I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," he said, unable to look at her. "I'm sorry, but I can't… I need to be able to do what I know is right. I can't do that reporting in to that man."

"I understand. I wanted to leave several times. But this is what I'm good at… and it's all I can do to help people. I don't like parts of the job like this… but what you do… only you can really do that. I'm a good cop…"

"Great one," he said, honestly.

"Yeah, but I can't… without the station and the resources, I wouldn't be able to do it. I mean all the analysis, you can do that instantly. You have underground contacts and people to get you by, I don't have those."

"You have me."

"And you know I'll help you from inside. Seriously, the lieutenant won't like it, but I can bring whoever I want as a consultant. He won't doubt my using you."

"Thanks… seriously. You're a good person, Lawrence. If the police have any good in them at all, it's in you."

"Wish I could convince you to stay."

"I wish I could convince you to come with me."

"I know… I'll see you around Conners."

"I'm sure," he said, smiling. "I'll need you to get me out of all those obstruction of justice charges I'm sure I'll get."

"Of course. Get out of here, ass."

He reached out and embraced her briefly, and went back home… back to his office.