A Case For Conners

Chapter 10

Chapter 9: Lieutenant

"Come on," Lawrence said for what must've been the tenth time.

"No," Conners responded just as insistently.

"This will be good for you!"

"This will be horrible."

"This can help you move up."

"This can bury me under a mountain of paperwork and put me through hell."

"Why do you not want to meet him?" she asked, looking at him in a way only she could. "After all, he's a good man."

"Can't be," Conners said simply. "He's a cop."

"So cops are bad now?"

"Yes… present company excluded, of course."

"Why don't you like cops? You work with us easy enough, even if you won't talk to anyone besides me. What is your problem?"

"My problem is the same as Bill's problem," Conners said, irritated. "He knew better and so do I; cops are either corrupt or willing to step on others to get what they want."

"I'm not."

"You're the exception that proves the rule."

"Maybe there are other expectations," she said.

"Maybe, but I don't like weeding through the s**t to find them. You agreed to go with me; you were easy. What I do isn't a circus trick and I'm not going to waste time proving myself to your co-workers. I have more than enough to do as it is."

"Bullshit. You haven't worked on anything in a week."

"Thrilling to know you're keeping track," he said.

Lawrence had been insisting all day long that he meet with her police lieutenant. This was a problem for Conners for several reasons. Being an illegal that used to run with a gang being pretty high on that list. Of course, his famous ego and attitude didn't help matters much. All in all, Conners had no desire whatsoever to meet her lieutenant.

"What do you want?"

"To not meet him."

"What will it take, for five minutes?"

He groaned internally. Lawrence was like him in some ways. She wasn't going to give in or bend until he gave her what she wanted. He figured he might as well use the chance to have a little bit of fun and throw her off at the same time.

"Dinner," he said simply.

"What?" she said taken aback.

"You want me to meet your boss? Fine, but you have dinner with me. And make it two and a half minutes, can't stand long meetings."

"You want to have dinner… with me?"

"Yeah, I'm thinking 8ish, work for you? Nothing fancy, just want to pick your brain. You are somewhat interesting after all."

She didn't speak for a long moment, but finally asked, "What should I wear?"

"Casual clothes are fine. I never was big into five-star places. We have a deal?"

"I'm trying to decide if I should kick you or agree… Fine, but you're paying, and you meet my lieutenant now."

"Of course, let me get changed first and I'll go."

He came back twenty seconds later, and Lawrence raised a curious eyebrow at him.

"You didn't change at all," she said.

"Yes I did," Conners explained. "This coat is much nicer."

He got in the passenger's seat, and she drove him to the police station deciding not to comment on his idea of a change of wardrobe. He walked into the station, and handed the desk clerk his cane, badge, Sherry and handcuffs.

"He's with me," Lawrence explained.

"Dawwww," he said, thickly. "You're so sweet. I'm glad you admitted we're together."

"Every fiber of my being is regretting this already."

"Yeah, and you bribed me to be here is the weird part."

She led him through the maze of desks and knocked on the window of an office marked Lieutenant Mark Guston.

"I didn't know that's how you spell 'asshole' now," Conners said to Lawrence. "Changing the rules to the English language all the time."

"Seriously? I will cuff you to this door and I am not kidding. My ass is on the line here."

"Well, it would be a shame to lose your ass."

"Two minutes! That is all I asked for!"

"You asked for five…"

"Jessica," said the lieutenant. "Come in."

"Sir," she said, slightly awkwardly. "You remember the investigator I told you about? Michael Conners?"

"Private Detective, Michael J. Conners," he hissed to her.

She kicked him in the leg just hard enough for the lieutenant to not notice.

"Yeah, the street mutt you said outdid Vickors and you, Sergeant."

"Yeah… he's like a machine or something. He's actually… pretty good."

"So Mr. Conners," said the lieutenant. "You're some hot stuff huh?"

Conners remained silent for a moment, before responding, "Oh, are we done talking about how awesome I am now? Please, don't stop on my account, I was just getting started."

Lawrence was literally stunned into silence before the lieutenant slowly spoke again.

"I see… she failed to mention your… crass attitude."

"Really?" Conners asked, genuinely surprised. "That's one of the first things she mentioned to me when we met."

"Well this is a place of business," the lieutenant said, rapidly getting irritated. "Not a place for you to jerk off."

"No, that's what you're too busy doing!"

"Excuse me?"

"These files on your desk, what did some kid lose a puppy? Or did a teen spray paint on the fences again? What pressing issue keeps our central police busy today?"

"For your information, this is a file for a dear friend of mine who is…"

Conners swiped the file from the man's hands and scanned it as his brain took a snapshot of the pages before relying all the information to him.

A man had filed a lawsuit against a car body shop. He was claiming the shop had used substandard parts in the vehicle and caused him to crash. Conners had to admit they were detailed with the reports: full pictures of the crash, the doctor's medical report on the victim's injuries, and the supposedly bad axel the shop had put in the truck.

He noticed several things from the photos. The axel wasn't rusted through or busted up from hitting the pavement. It seemed like it had been cut halfway through with a hacksaw before he had driven along letting it break apart and crash. Double-checking the medical report, things were made clearer to him.

This man would have some nasty whiplash and maybe a shoulder injury, but broken bones and massive internal damage was pushing things a little. It was most likely an insurance scam.

"Your friend is a liar," said Conners, handing the file back. "Naughty, naughty."

"There is no way you picked that up in a couple seconds."

"I am very, very sexy at way I do… right Lawrence?"

"I said you were good."

"Good… sexy… same thing."

"No, not even a bit. I'm sorry about him sir, I'll get him out of here."

"Fair enough, my two minute mark is coming up anyway."

"Wait," said the lieutenant. "Why do you think the doctor is lying?"

"Simple… the axel was tampered with."

"So, the doctor did it? Gabe isn't good with cars."

"Of course not; he's the doctor claiming how horribly the crash injured the victim. It's textbook insurance fraud. Well, not textbook. Real scammers use physiatrists, they demand way more money… but for a beginner this wasn't bad."

"Maybe the shop tampered with it. He said they had bad parts."

"Even the shadiest of shops doesn't hacksaw their own product."

"Unless they deliberately want the part to go bad."

"Why?" asked Conners. "Out of a crippling fear of success and money? It can all just be so overwhelming in the auto repair industry."

"Why are you sure it wasn't them?"

"No motive. Unless this guy just really pissed them off, but he didn't."

"How do you know?"

"Come on," said Conners rolling his eyes. "Check the receipt. He paid cash, in full. No payment plan. Unless they really f*****g hate this guy, they won't give up proper payment like that. Nothing is more substantial than cash… They may have overcharged him, but that's all."

"There could be a connection to an employee. Maybe an ex-girlfriend, or a bar fight, or maybe one of the workers is a psychopath."

"Maybe, but I don't think so. Doesn't pass the smell test."

"The smell test?"

"When you get a theory, take a big old whiff of it. If it smell like s**t, it's shit."

"Well the actual cops have to check every lead for this connection that may be there, you know? We like to be good at the job instead of guessing."

"Check the security tapes, it's faster. When I'm right, just send me a nice check."

"For what?"

"Being your consultant. Nice to meet you, lieutenant."

Sure enough, about a week later, Conners received a check for 600 dollars… not a bad start considering he'd been in the station for two minutes.

What surprised him was the letter that came along with the check.

Dear Michael J. Conners,

In spite of your blatant disregard for regular human pleasantries, I have never been so impressed by someone's ability to accurately examine a scene. I have been in the police force for 22 years, so please understand my astonishment here.

I admit I had to take a long time in preparing this letter, only partly because I feel you don't need that massive ego of yours stroked anymore. Sergeant Lawrence assured me of your usefulness in the Lucas Viggo case. So, what I am offering you is unusual in the least.

Detective Vickors is retiring this weekend and is leaving Sergeant Lawrence without a street partner. Normally we would of course examine the best of our own and change up our teams just a little.

However, she expressed a great desire to work with you personally, which is a first for her. Normally, she shows no preference one way or the other for a partner. I am offering you the chance to join us as an honorary detective. This is the first time such a thing has been heard of, and it is purely because of your own skill and a stirring recommendation on behalf of the late William Scott that it is offered.

If you're interested come up to my office and we will discuss your future.

Lieutenant Mark Guston.

Conners was in shock, and his stomach began doing flip-flops. Half of him was elated. After all, two minutes in the station and he would get the chance to really make a difference and undo a lot more crime in the city. On the other hand, a small part of him felt like he would be betraying both Bill and himself.

Bill hadn't thought highly of the police and Conners had done everything in his career as a private detective. Still… to become a police detective straight from the streets was an enticing offer. It wasn't just unusual, it was unheard of. No policeman was ever brought in at the level of detective, and even honorary policeman weren't given the right to charge someone with a crime… Honorary police detectives hadn't ever existed that he was aware of… Some police had primary consultants but that was it. This… this was all he had wanted before working with Bill… but now…

What would Bill have done?

"I don't know if I should even take this, old man… It would be good to get out there more. Why did you write them?"

He would get a first pick at cases like this, instead of waiting sometimes years to have to solve them. Not to mention it would be a nice bump in pay. Also, this would increase his contacts… but none of that made him feel like it would be worth it. There were two powerful factors though. The first was he would be able to help people out quicker.

This thought actually stymied him for a second. He didn't even realize he actually wanted to help people… This was all about the undoing wrong in the city, right? It was about trying to achieve some kind of penance for killing the kid. When had it become helping people?

"Old man got into me more than even I know," he said.

The second thought was that it would allow him to work personally with Lawrence. Conners wasn't sure exactly what they were to each other. To him, she was a puzzle, and instead of getting bored as he solved the pieces, he got more and more fascinated. It was like the box around the puzzle had boasted the picture of a bowl of fruit, but as he put it together he was seeing a city, not just food.

"She would kick me for that comparison," Conners said, laughing.

He figured it would be worth trying the job out for those things, however much he may dislike it. Sadly, it would mean dressing professionally… at least more so than he did right now. That would take some getting used to.

He sent his short reply to the lieutenant, and dropped it in the mailbox, waiting for the inevitable. A post-woman with arthritis would take it, put into a bag and ship to the central office before it would get delivered tomorrow to an address that was really just a few blocks away.

Conners spent the rest of the day browsing online stores for "thought enhancers," meaning rubix cubes, yo-yos, jolly ranchers and a hefty supply of throwing knives. He felt unsure of himself. Never, not once with Bill had Conners felt he might be making a mistake with his life.

Now… this was strange… but he'd thought it through logically and he couldn't deny this was something he wanted. He climbed into bed and decided to turn in early that night.

His night was not easy. Instead of peace and quiet, rest or relaxation, he had nightmares of his time with Hunter. He saw a bullet enter a young boy's head and watched as the brains spilled out of his head.

"Why?" asked the boy. "Why would you shoot me?"

Conners sat up quickly, falling off the bed and gasping. His heart was practically on fire, trying to beat out of his chest, and sweat covered him from head to toe. Anxious he ran to the kitchen, and got a glass of water, cooling him while his heart rate returned to normal.

"What the hell was that?" he asked aloud.

If there was an answer, he didn't hear it.