Making Moves

Chapter 10

Dominoes

…

…o.o.o…

After the Chief discussed the evidence with Carl and Big Dog, a very wet Morelli was placed into a cell. At least the messy remains and evidence of his sordid activities were partially washed away. Or so he thought. At least he had a towel over his lap, which was gratefully offered to him only to find that they were not sorry for him but disgusted. It was done to protect their eyes, not his dignity as he thought, since no one needed to endure that vision.

Robin smiled when Big Dog winked at her, fully aware that Morelli couldn't keep his trap shut. Multiple charges were recorded including property damage, driving under the influence and being drunk and disorderly. Resisting arrest and assaulting an officer of the law made his rap sheet a considerable one.

The Chief called for Morelli and had a long sharp session telling, more like yelling, Morelli what he thought of him. Bringing disrepute to his badge was the main thrust as he recounted all the charges currently listed. He didn't actually mention Stephanie by name, as Rangeman had requested, but made it clear that his behaviour was unforgivable. Even with the door closed, everybody could hear Morelli getting his ass reamed. Through the open blinds of the Chief's office, they could see him pacing and gesticulating, and banging on his desk. Morelli was stripped of his detective rank and assigned to desk duties for the rest of the week.

Once in his overnight cell, he was able to zip himself up, avoiding any more embarrassment. But the other cell mates alongside had a field day taunting him about free willy blowing in the breeze, unrestrained. He was released the next morning, since no one came to collect him, probably since he refused his one phone call. Because of his disgusting appearance, a uniformed officer escorted him home to have a shower, while said officer waited and then he was returned to his cell. House arrest was too good for him. This was not his first infringement and the Chief had had enough. A standard uniform was issued immediately. "And get a haircut!"

That morning, the shock of seeing him in his blues and his hair cut shorter than anyone could ever recall, was palpable and silence followed in his wake as he was escorted to his new desk. Officer Morelli had been taken down more than a peg or two. The Golden Boy was looking very lack lustre. His stony-faced expression was so fixed, it was like he had lock jaw. Bitterness surged under the surface as he struggled to maintain his cop face with the furtive glances, whispers and asides. The occasional camera clicks had him seething and struggling to maintain his composure. There was nowhere to hide like his old office and no door to close so he could conceal his internal rage. Morelli had to grit his teeth not being afforded his previous position of authority. Many times, he had to bite his tongue when he was ordered to do mundane tasks, like coffee orders and clean up puke and more. He was treated with the disdain reserved for lowly criminals and he did not like it one bit.

The Chief had also put him on a month's suspension with no pay, no leave and no entitlements, starting next Monday so that he could spend an entire week conspicuously at the TPD. He wanted to humiliate Morelli in front of his peers for this one week. His slate was already smeared and making an example of him pleased the Chief immensely. Morelli was to report to anger management and AA sessions starting the next day. He was escorted home each day and collected in the morning by a senior officer and driven to his AM and AA sessions since his licence had been temporarily suspended as well.

More charges were pending, awaiting the full report from Carl and Big Dog and the forensics. He would be billed for damages and the clean up costs once those details were disclosed. The more serious charges of resisting and assault would be reviewed and certainly not ignored. This was a serious matter. The law is the law. There are no special privileges for a former detective like him. After all, he had sworn to uphold the law. He was not above the law. Handing in his detective badge was almost the last straw but then he was issued with a standard TPD badge. A weapons review left him feeling vulnerable and victimised.

Robin received a registered parcel which had already been cleared by the security screening and deemed safe. Private and Confidential were emblazoned to the front and back. It was addressed to the Chief. Knocking on his door, a calmer Chief received her as she presented him with the parcel. He smiled at her.

"So, how many times did you have to bucket Morelli before he learned his lesson?"

She smiled. "Twice, before he clammed up. I had a third bucket on standby."

"Let me know if there is any conflict, especially directed towards Carl and Big Dog from Morelli's fan club. I have a feeling it will settle very quickly," as he eyed the parcel.

Robin left and took her lunch break.

Screaming in the TPD foyer snapped everyone's attention to the three women who charged in demanding to see the Chief. A very rattled Officer Gaspick was on reception and was struggling to contain their hysterics. Bella Morelli was making her ancient Italian taunts and threats and he was a bit afraid of her. He'd heard about her reputation. Bella reminded him of his own Italian grandmother, on his mother's side. Crazy Italian old world women.

Curious to see who else was screeching, Robin was surprised that Helen Plum had joined the two Morelli women demanding to know who made the, "obviously, false allegations" against their Joey.

A sudden roar from the Chief's office instantly silenced the always noisy and busy TPD inner sanctum. Everyone froze as a red-faced Chief hurled his door open yelling for blood.

"Morelli! Get your ass up here. Now!"

Knowing that stalling was going to make matters worse, Morelli flew up the stairs to his office. The Chief slammed the door behind him. All eyes were on the two figures almost silhouetted by the blinds as the Chief's voice thundered.

Clearly, they all heard, "What the fuck is all this?!"

The Chief was holding up papers and what looked like multiple photos, that much was clear.

"Oh shit. He's in for it now," muttered Robin.

Bella Morelli was talking in rapid Italian. Angie Morelli crossed herself and suddenly became weak at the knees, assisted from collapsing completely by Helen. Everyone stared at them, immediately silencing the old hag, and like nasty shrews, they slunk out onto the street. Angie was red-faced. Fear was reflected in her eyes. Had her Joey …?

Nobody spoke as Helen drove Angie and Bella to their house, but she decided a short detour on her way home was in order. She parked the Buick next to the distasteful dumpster and strode briskly into the brownstone building, into the foyer and into the elevator. The pounding on Stephanie's apartment door, accompanied by her screeching demands, caused quite a stir. The residents had had enough of these after all the excitement and drama of the past two weeks. Two TPD officers arrived and told her to move on, reminding her that this was still a crime scene, as evidenced by the crime scene tape. They knew she was Stephanie Plum's mother. She was escorted off the premises under warning, and threat, that if she had to be forcibly removed they might have to arrest her.

Between her usual "Why me's?" and "It's all Stephanie's fault." And "How could she do this to me?" And "How could she do this to Joseph?" They shook their heads when she finally departed the parking lot. Being so obsessed with this Morelli thing, it didn't occur to her to question the crime scene aspect of her own daughter's apartment. The details had not yet been made public. The TPD officers were confused and totally aghast. What kind of mother does that?

Neither the TPD Telegraph nor the Burg Grapevine had enough information to put the cryptic snippets together. The fallout and this crime scene seemed like two separate issues. Speculation however, was running rampant especially in the Morelli domain.

Of course, Helen Plum was not so easily deflected. She wanted to vent. She wanted to castigate and chastise and blame someone, one person in particular. She decided to go home first and have an active discussion with her friends Jack and Jim. Wild Turkey joined the conversation. In the meantime, she was fending off and feeding phone calls. Her perspective was narrow as usual. The scathing reports about Joseph Morelli's demotion to uniformed officer had their tongues wagging. For a change it was Joseph Morelli's misdeeds that took the forefront.

Of course, Helen Plum blamed her daughter, Stephanie. It had to be all her fault. And like a broken record, she spewed all the same vitriol as usual. She felt so humiliated and was scornful of her youngest daughter. It was all about her and the shame that Stephanie brought upon her. She tried to maintain that issue and her personal dilemma with her wayward daughter, but the Morelli story was more tangible and sensational.

Of course, Helen Plum ignored their curious inquiries as to how this had anything to do with Stephanie. They were confused. That Angie Morelli would defend her son was a given, but that Helen used this as a ploy to once again express her disdain and contempt for Stephanie had them shaking their heads. Her martyrdom was well-known, but it just didn't cut it today. Insert a major Burg eyeroll here.

But the tide was changing for Helen. The phone calls slowed as her audience diminished, fed up and disgusted with Helen Plum and her derisive, slurred remarks about her own daughter. Stephanie's name had not come up in despatches for a while now and they knew that recent discussions (gossip), even though less sensational than before, had become tedious. They were getting wise to the power play that Helen Plum and Angie Morelli had regaled upon themselves. Bella Morelli still made the busybodies quake with fear causing them to cross themselves whilst making their silent anxious prayers and more secretive curses.

The gossipmongers and the Bitter Bitches of the Burg had fresh meat and that it was a Morelli who was in the spotlight had fired them up with a new vengeance. And why was Stephanie's apartment a crime scene? Had he murdered her? The small threads could not hold enough info for anyone to get a proper foothold and run with it. But Morelli's unceremonious demotion was creating a feeding frenzy. Speculation was rife. The Morelli household was being bombarded inside and out. The phones were taken off line. Press photographers were waiting outside like vultures. Everyone wanted the scoop. The TPD also had a smaller press contingent as the news surged through the neighbourhood.

Not to be so readily discouraged, Helen drove to Rangeman. It took her a while since she wasn't sure if it was Harwood, or Hatewood, or Wayward or Haywood Street. Since her judgement was diminished by the alcohol in her system, she ignored many of the road rules; her sole focus was to complete her mission. When she ran the red light, narrowly missing the school bus, the flashing lights appeared behind her. Deciding it couldn't be for her, she sped on ahead obliviously ignoring the siren and those wretched flashing lights.

Of course, Helen Plum never did find Rangeman. With two police cars tracking her, it took a third to finally make her stop, denying her the opportunity to complete her mission. The air bags went off and stunned her as she hit a couple of parked cars and crashed it into a large elm tree after running over the stop sign.

Of course, Helen Plum made a scene. She was practically hysterical. Initially they thought it was out of concern for her daughter Stephanie that made her so emotional and in such a frenzy. Until they smelled the alcohol. Until they saw her emerge from the car and stagger, against their request to remain inside the vehicle. She failed the breathalyser. She resisted her arrest, determined to go on foot to find this elusive Rangeman building. She had to be handcuffed and as they read her Miranda rights, she suddenly froze into a semi-catatonic state.

Helen Plum was escorted through the police station to the charge desk with a few clicking cameras recording it for posterity. She swayed and wobbled as she stood there, her humiliation complete and deep, very deep into Denial Land.

…o.o.o…

The following day the Trenton Times was sold out in record time. Yes, they had made good of the publications about the mishaps and misadventures of the Bombshell Bounty Hunter. But they had an even better drawcard.

FIRED!

That was the headline. The entire front page was a gallery of photos, very compromising photos of one lowly ex Officer Morelli who had recently been demoted for conduct unbecoming an officer of the law. From Detective Morelli, to Officer Morelli, and now just a disgusting civilian, Joe Morelli, aka, Joe Blow.

DISHONORABLY DISCHARGED!

The photos, all with Morelli, with a woman, sometimes two, whose faces had been pixilated, in Stark Street, motels and alleyways. It was obvious to all and sundry that he was receiving services and many of these so-called services were whilst on he was on the clock. Sometimes his crotch had been fig-leafed, or blacked-out with a large cross, especially one of him handcuffed inside the TPD. There was no mistaking who it was.

SHAME!

A full report and more photos were on page 4 and 5, was captioned on the bottom of the front page. Sensational was an understatement. The phone lines were practically in meltdown. Social media was going berserk.

SHAME!

The Morelli household was besieged by onlookers and gawkers. Bella went outside and tried to give them the evil eye but was stunned by the mocking laughter. She clutched her head and staggered inside.

SHAME!

A slovenly, unshaven, still moderately drunk and hung-over Morelli entered the 711. Silence suddenly descended on the store as customers held their breath, while others held their cameras poised, as he entered through the door. Absent-mindedly he grabbed a coke, a small loaf of bread, a couple of pastries and a newspaper before proceeding to the cashier.

"What?!" He glared.

Everyone froze.

"What the fuck? You got nothing better to do?" He scowled at them.

They all shrugged and some hurriedly departed knowing the impending explosion was going to rock this part of town. He paid for his goods and departed, unaware of the awaiting surprise.

The manager rushed to the door, dimmed the lights, pulled down the blind and turned the sign to CLOSED, just in case he returned. Everyone held their breath and ducked down as a precaution.

And there it was, a mighty roar. Someone gasped, someone giggled and then the laughter and sniggers abounded.

…o.o.o…

Hector's POV

Through the smoke-filled room, following the sound of belligerence and slurred aggression, he grinned slyly, watching the pendejo make more than an ass of himself. He was getting worse each day and he only had himself to blame. His arrogance still had not deflated and he was yet to hit rock bottom and, as always, he was full of shit. He made to get his badge as he threatened the barman once again, who shook his head. Of course, there was no badge anymore and the barman wasted no time in calling for security.

A very large, inked man arrived and stood very close to the pendejo, forcing him to look up, which caused him to sway in the process. He was imposing, dark and muscular evident by the tightly stretched black t-shirt as his bulging biceps flexed. The black tribal ink was like the Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson, but bolder and darker. Probably Polynesian. As soon as he spoke, Hector grinned wickedly. Maori. Yep. New Zealand's finest and he looked like he was a keen fan or even a player of the All Blacks rugby team given the silver fern insignia on his t-shirt sleeve. He would make an interesting Rangeman but Hector waited to see him in action.

"We can do it my way or the hard way. Your choice. What do you think, Bro?" His accent made him sound even more sinister, but it was the quiet authority with which he spoke that made his target swallow nervously.

Morelli blinked dumbly at the mountain of a man in front of him. He should have kept his mouth shut.

"What you looking at, fucker? You a Rangeman thug too?" He slurred and staggered a bit trying to remain upright.

"Wrong answer, Bro."

It only took him two swift jabs and Morelli was on the ground struggling to catch his breath, clutching his jaw.

"Hey, Rangi. No blood inside." Rangi nodded and grinned.

"Let's go, Bro." He grabbed Morelli roughly by his arm and half dragged him towards the door with little effort. A matching man mountain opened the door and together they hauled Morelli over the railing of the ramp into the parking lot.

"We don't expect to see you here again. I assure you, Bro, it won't be pretty. I went easy on you tonight. Consider yourself lucky."

Morelli struggled to get up, the pain in his shoulder now becoming intense as he realised he had a dislocated shoulder. Fiddling with his left hand until he eventually had his cell phone steady enough, he called his brother.

Hector knuckle bumped Rangi and his partner.

"Nice work, hermano."

He was sure that Morelli had also sustained a couple of black eyes, possibly a broken jaw, as well as that dislocated shoulder.

…o.o.o…

After his brief demotion to Officer Morelli, Joe had been livid with his treatment. He considered himself a fine detective and had enjoyed the glory of his reputation. His reputation however, was a double barrelled one. This past two weeks were the worst he had ever experienced, since the navy. But that's another story. It was all Stephanie's fault and that Manoso.

His very public dismissal, was humiliating and unfair, from his perspective, of course. He'd been dishonourably discharged and was discovering that being drunk and disorderly wasn't favoured without a badge. He could get away with that before. He'd been kicked out of so many bars and dives that he had lost count. He was waiting impatiently, for his cousin now, since his brother had had a gutful of him. Morelli had gone back to his bar brawling days, but he was finding it tougher not being as young, or as fit, as he used to be. So now he drank alone, drowning his sorrows and wallowing in his misery.

He tried to get a job working behind the bar, even doing security as a doorman. No glory there. He thought getting a job would be easy. His application for janitor at one of the high schools was declined since his police clearance was not approved. He was awaiting a position as a security doorman at a couple of the malls. Stephanie did this. Of course, it was all her fault.

He didn't realise he was deep in Denial Land. His bitterness and hatred skewed his perception and to make matters worse, he had to put his house, Aunt Rose's house that she bequeathed to him, he had to put it on the market to pay for his fines and damages and all that other crap. The compulsory courses, which the bastards made him do, under constant supervision, were at his own cost now as well. Reluctantly, he sold his truck and was now driving a POS hatchback. He thought that would help, but between getting gas, groceries and utilities, and paying rent for his rundown rowhouse in a seedy part of Hamilton Township, his financial reserves didn't last.

He has considered Stark Street, being closer to the Burg and his mother's manicotti. But Stark Street was no longer safe for him without the protecting of his badge. His mother cut him off completely. No more of Mama's delicious homemade manicotti or lasagne. The fact that the Trenton Times front page spread had sent his Grandma Bella into a stroke made matters worse. He was no longer the favourite, no longer their little Joey. Bella never fully recovered losing her capacity to speak and considerable mobility so that she needed a walker to get around inside the house. But she didn't get around at all outside. Secretly, the Burg sent a twisted prayer and breathed a sigh of relief before they quickly crossed themselves.

So, each day Morelli drowned his sorrows and his belligerence always got the better of him. Each day he brooded and blamed Stephanie, and Manoso, for his drastically changed circumstances and how his life had turned out.

...o.o.o…

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

Have you ever played dominoes?

….…o.o.o.o.o.o.o…

TBC

A big heartfelt THANK YOU for all the wonderful reviews and the thoughtful caring messages of support. I really appreciated that.