The Mourning Missed Page 7

  Ten

  “SUICIDE?” LILLY BLURTED. “How the Hell does someone commit suicide by jamming a pencil in their own ear while handcuffed to the detention rail?”

  “Well, no one went in the room, the video log proves that. So, unless one of you guys left him that way...”

  Phillip grabbed Lilly as she started forward. “Don’t let this tub of lard goad you into doing something rash.”

  “Who you calling a tub of lard?” The First Sergeant swelled up, puffing out his chest so that it was almost as big as his porcine stomach.

  “This happened on your watch, Hank, and the DAs office will ensure you answer for it,” Phillip said flatly.

  “What happened?” The First Sergeant shot back. “According to the video log; nothing. It’s just a mystery and I’m reporting it as a suicide.”

  “And I’ll need to confiscate those video logs immediately,” Phillip rejoined.

  “I’ve got a man collecting them right now,” the portly man replied. “Now, I want her out of my squad room immediately.” He said, jerking his thumb at Lilly.

  “On what grounds are you ordering a police officer out of headquarters?” Lilly ask calmly, standing before him still dressed in street uniform. There was a noticeable edge of steel in her voice.

  “On the grounds that you ain’t a real police officer and besides, you’re on suspension,” he replied. “You shouldn’t be wearing that uniform at all but especially not on suspension. And you weren’t any good as one before that.”

  “Ah, I see,” Lilly replied meekly, ducking her head. When the gleam of satisfaction shown in his eyes, she pulled the trigger on her scathing response. “So I guess you’re not only fat, but stupid as well.” Tapping the Academy shield on her blouse, she held her finger under the extra word. “I’m working for the Commandant of the Academy.”

  Taking a step back, the sergeant looked at the shield, then at Lilly’s face, and finally into her raging gaze. He started to say something but hesitated before turning abruptly on his heel. “The tapes should be out any minute,” he called over his shoulder as he walked stiffly away.

  “That was unwise and unprofessional,” Samuels said softly once he was out of earshot. “He could rightly have you up on insubordination charges as you are still a police officer and he is a First Sergeant. But there’s something else you should know. That man was almost killed in the line of duty and was given the option of a medical retirement or light duty for the rest of his career. He has more medical issues than any one man should have to carry, yet he gets up every morning and puts the uniform on.”

  “But, you called him a tub of lard?” Lilly objected.

  “I did, and in front of you that was inappropriate,” Phillip admitted. “I’ve known Hank Mitchell since our days at the Academy.”

  “You were a cop?” Lilly said in surprise.

  “Still am, in case you hadn’t noticed,” he said with a hint of injury in his voice. “I’m just working for a different department of law enforcement.”

  “I’m...so sorry,” Lilly offered abjectly.

  “I’m not the one deserves an apology,” he said pointedly.

  Searching his face, Lilly saw the challenge in his eyes. Drawing herself up ramrod straight, she marched around the corner to the First Sergeant’s office. Four other officers were deep in conversation with him. Clearing her throat, Lilly prepared to eat crow.

  Two officers heard her and turned toward the sound. As they opened the path between her and the interior, she snapped to attention. “What can I do for you, officer?” He asked with venom in his voice.

  “Sergeant Mitchell, I was totally out of line early and I wish to apologize for my unprofessional conduct,” Lilly said, focusing on a spot on the wall above and behind his head.

  “Did Samuels put you up to this?” The First Sergeant growled.

  “Detective Samuels was kind enough to share your history with me, First Sergeant. I just want to say I’m proud and humble to stand in the same room with you.” She choked up just a little at that because she realized she was, in fact, proud of the man despite his abrasive personality.

  Perhaps it was the single tear which escaped the corner of her eye and rolled glistening down her cheek. Perhaps it was her sincerity; she really didn’t know what prompted his reaction. “Don’t you clowns have somewhere to be?” He barked at the foursome in front of him.

  When the patrolmen had all scurried away, already talking amongst themselves, Hank returned his attention to Lilly. His stern visage softened and he cleared his throat. “If you’ve got a minute, go grab a cup and join me.”

  Wheeling, she scampered back around the corner, almost bowling Phillip over as she did so. “Enjoying the show?” She snapped as she skipped sideways around him.

  WHEN SHE CAME BACK from the break room, Samuels was nowhere to be seen. She carried two cups of coffee, both black, because that was how 90% of all cops drank theirs. Stepping into his office, she offered one to Hank. “Sorry it took so long. The swill that was in there smelled like tiger piss, so I made a fresh pot.”

  Surprise lit his face as he grinned and accepted the cup. Setting it down, he picked up a thermal mug and drained it before thumbing the top off and emptying the paper cup into it. “How would you possible know what tiger piss smells like?”

  “Oh, it was one of my Dad’s favorite expressions,” she explained.

  “Your dad do service in ‘Nam?” Mitchell asked curiously.

  “Yes, sir, that’s where I was conceived,” she shared.

  Lilly watched the gears turn as Hank did the math in his head. “Early 70’s, I’m figuring?”

  “Yes, sir,” she smiled. “I was born in April of 1974.”

  “Hell, you just turned 21 then,” he observed.

  “Yes, sir,” she concurred. “First Academy class I could legally get into, as I turned 21 the week before we graduated.”

  “Jackson,” Hank mused. “Was your old man in the First of the 26th?”

  Surprised, Lilly burst into a grin. “Yes, he was. He always said 525th MIG, although I really don’t know what he meant by it.”

  “Well I do, young lady,” Hank was now grinning from ear-to-ear. “You said was, as in past tense. I take it your father passed away?” As he asked, the grin faded.

  “No,” Lilly replied, as a shadow of anger and frustration momentarily stole across her previously ebullient features. “Mom died giving birth to my fifth brother and Dad crawled into a bottle. He still lives there comfortably today as far as I know. He spends most of his disability check on booze.”

  Hanks features fell as she told the tale. “Is your dad’s name Jubal by any chance?”

  Shock replaced the frustration on Lilly caramel features. “You know my Dad?”

  “Much more than just know, Lilly,” he replied, using her familiar name for the first time. “Your father saved my life when I was 19, in a bad place, and in a bad way. I joined the Army in ‘70 just to spite my father and get off the farm,” he shared. “I wound up a grunt because I had no skills and was sent to ‘Nam just before I turned 20.”

  “I wasn’t in-country a month before I was so homesick I was ready to try anything to get sent back. I got detailed to 1st Division HQ at Long Binh for scut work because the guys in the 26th Battalion got tired of my whining. I saw it as my opportunity to plead my case to the higher-ups. I had no clue,” he chuckled self-deprecatingly.

  “When I tried to get into the General’s office I wound up in the brig. Your dad was in the Military Intelligence Group, or MIG; and no, it wasn’t an oxymoron. They just couldn’t get reliable and consistent information and their local sources often worked for the VC as well. Anyway, your dad pulled me out of the brig and had me doing all kinds of leg-work all over the post. He kept me so busy I didn’t have time to feel sorry for myself.”

  The sergeant smiled at a distant memory. “Unless I miss my guess, I met your mom once. I won’t pretend to remember her, but your facial features take
me back over there.”

  “Small world,” Lilly said softly.

  “Where’s your dad at now?” Hank asked, nodding at her remark.

  “Last I knew, he was living in a flop house in Jefferson Parish, out near the water on Grand Bayou,” Lilly replied. “He always liked being near the ocean; said it calmed him.”

  “Well, your dad has plenty reason to seek the calm,” Hank informed her. “The story’s not mine to tell, but he was still there during the fall of Saigon. He got out on Frequent Wind.”

  “I don’t know what that is,” Lilly professed.

  “No reason you should,” Hank replied. “No one wanted to talk about it and the history books sure as hell don’t tell the story. Tens of thousands of South Vietnamese were evacuated on every available aircraft when the North Vietnamese Army took the capitol city. Your dad was part of the push to get key figures out. Leaving them behind was a certain death warrant.”

  The First Sergeant shook his head in recall. “As it was, there were mass executions in the streets for weeks afterward. Neighbor telling on neighbor; everyone just trying to survive. People were fleeing the country in every way imaginable.”

  Shaking himself, he forced a lopsided grin. “It’s what made me want to be a cop when I got back.” The grin disappeared for a minute as he said, “I spent two tours in ‘Nam with your dad and left at his urging. He said the writing was on the wall; we would lose the war. He saw me off at Tan Son Nhat Airbase about six months before the city fell. I had to come home to get gut-shot by a strung-out junkie having a bad trip.”

  Without realizing she’d done so, Lilly had placed her hand atop his. “I’m so sorry you had to endure that.”

  Clearing his throat brusquely, he stood from his seat. “Well, Samuels has got the video so you better go find him. Then find who did this. I mean to start my own house-cleaning to uncover what really happened. I may have to fall on my sword over this one but no way in hell did that punk kill himself.”

  Eleven

  “HANK SERVED WITH YOUR dad, huh?” Phillip said at his desk the next morning. Shaking his head in wonder, he asked. “So, do you have a new friend in high places now?”

  “I don’t know that I’d say friend but at least he’s not hostile toward me any longer,” Lilly replied. “He asked if I’d try reaching out to Dad and see if he’ll talk to Sergeant Mitchell. I told him I’d contact whatever relatives I have in the area. Many of them won’t even accept my calls because they know I’m a police officer.”

  “Yeah, it’s the same way when family members become cops,” Samuels replied. “Some really good cops have only their brotherhood family because their blood disowns them.”

  “That sounds like first-hand experience,” Lilly observed.

  “Yeah, long story,” he replied. “More to our immediate needs, I’ve got guys in tech scrutinizing the video for evidence of editing or looping.”

  “What does that mean?” she asked.

  “Simply put, somebody can record the video of a blank hallway and electronically substitute it onto the tape if they really know what they’re doing,” he explained. “But there’s always evidence of it if you know what to look for. My guys know.”

  “Until then, what do we do next?”

  “We don’t do anything,” he replied. “I go to work on my next case and you go back to the Academy. Unless you’ve changed your mind about working with me in the DA’s office?”

  “I really need to talk to some people before I can make that decision,” she answered truthfully.

  “Good answer,” he replied. “You don’t have the experience yet to make those really important decisions alone. It’s a sign of your maturity you not only recognize your limitations but are willing to seek out the advice of others who have more understanding.”

  “Thanks, I think,” she smiled as she headed for the door. She could hear him laughing behind her.

  “SARGE, I’VE NEVER FELT more alive than when I was taking Montoya down,” Lilly said as they sat in his training office. “I don’t believe I’ll be able to do that kind of work on patrol. I know I’ll never do it here and ADA Samuels seems to think I have what it takes.”

  “I believe you do as well Lilly. Colonel Hollister, as well as several others here, wanted to recommend you to Investigations straight out of the door. The Chief of Detectives turned us down flat. This will be fun to rub in his face,” he mused with a smile.

  “So, how does this work?” Lilly asked outright. “You guys pulled my ass out of the fire and I’ll never forget that. I feel like I’m using you as a springboard to move forward.”

  “Listen; there’s this thing called Karma,” he offered. “It works great for you when you’re living right by the Universe, and can seriously bite you in the ass when you’re not. Just keep being true to yourself and this will all work out.”

  “Are there forms or something I need to fill out?” Lilly asked innocently.

  “Normally when you ask for a transfer; yes. But you’ve been requested by an ADA. That paperwork is on them,” he smiled. “Just let Samuels know you’re in and he’ll do the rest. It does raise several issues for you, though,” he added thoughtfully. Lilly’s raised eyebrow signified he had her full attention. “You won’t be able to maintain your residence here and you won’t have access to our vehicle fleet.”

  “Well, I do have Clint’s car, which he told me once I could borrow any time I wanted. And I have his apartment,” she replied, considering. “I’ll speak to the super, as he already knows I’ve moved in. Clint was in the process of adding my name to the lease, so I can’t see where that’ll be a problem.”

  “Then I guess the only thing for you to do is clear out of here,” Sarge said with a wide grin. “Don’t be a stranger.”

  “YOU WON’T HAVE MUCH of an office to start,” Samuels said the next morning, showing her the tiny cubicle. The entire contents included a desk, computer station, and calendar blotter. There were seven more such stations in what Samuels had called the bullpen. “You’ll get all the scut work at first. Once you’ve proven to the Chief Investigator you’re worth everything I’ve said you are, you’ll move up to some real detective work. In the meantime,” he said, reaching over to open one of the file drawers on the desk. “There’s homework.”

  In the drawer were three voluminous books with cloth binding which looked like they might have been printed thirty years before. “These are the District Attorney’s Office guidance and personnel responsibilities manuals. I know you have a penchant for knowing the book, if not necessarily going by it,” he grinned to ease the sting of the jab. “But you really need to become intimate with these. Your comprehension of this guidance will make the difference between your becoming an outstanding detective or just one of the drones.”

  “You should know, drones are all male,” she replied with a soft smile. “It may take a while but I intend to be a queen bee some day.”

  “That’s the right attitude,” he laughed. Opening the center desk drawer, he withdrew a gold-trimmed silver shield. “It’s not all gold, yet. Right now, you’ll start as a Deputy District Attorney Investigator. Once you’ve been here a year or so, again depending on your performance, you’ll get the solid gold District Attorney Investigator. You have arrest authority, being a commissioned Peace Officer.” She smiled, pleased with this information.

  “Also, fill out this paperwork to apply for a Private Investigator’s license for the state.” When she gave him a puzzled look, he pulled his wallet out and showed her his own. “Occasionally, we have to pursue criminals outside the county but still within the state. This officially makes us bounty hunters, which we can’t do in our own jurisdiction. But it gives us authority to detain and return individuals who have arrest warrants issued in the county.”

  Sensing her confusion, he explained. “It’s a lot easier than asking for mutual aid from another jurisdiction and wasting time bringing them up to speed. We don’t chase much but when we do we like to get it don
e and get home.”

  “Next, go see Aaron in the weapons locker to issue you a sidearm. No long guns for us. We don’t routinely use our weapons.” Turning to rest his hip on the desktop, he flipped his jacket back to reveal the butt of a Colt Officer’s ACP. “Case in point, I’ve been with the DA’s office 11 years. Four as a DDAI and then DAI, before I finished my law degree and became an ADA. I’ve used my weapon in self-defense once. You’ll also be encouraged to purchase your own sidearm; something that suits you.”

  “The M-9 Beretta the department issues is a large-frame gun that’s probably difficult for you to handle,” he guessed. When she nodded, he continued. “Many female investigators, most female police detectives, and some female police officers buy compact nine millimeters like the Kel-Tec P-11 or Smith and Wesson Bodyguard. Some others prefer the Ruger P 93.”

  “If you need to try something out, Smitty’s downtown loans them, with range time, free to newly-assigned officers of all walks. You buy the ammo there. He gets a lot of return business for his efforts. Most who go there to try, stay there to buy.” Grinning, he added. “No, I don’t get a commission.”

  “What does Aaron have to offer tonight?” Lilly asked. “I turned mine in at the Academy yesterday, and I feel kind of naked.”

  “I understand the feeling. I don’t know what he has, but I can imagine either a Colt 1908 or Walther PPKS. Let’s go see,” he offered.

  WALKING INTO THE ICU, the first thing Lilly noticed was Clint’s empty bed. Turning to the Nurse’s Station, she observed Jenny was not on duty as well. Approaching the desk, she waited until the nurse hung up the phone before speaking.

  “May I help you?” The nurse asked distantly. “You’re really not supposed to be here unless you have family on the floor.”