The Children's Corner

Chapter 29

Taking his seat in the prison visitor's room, six-foot-six Marvin "Shorty" Taggart stares at the badges on the cops sitting across the metal table. "You're N.Y.P.D. What are you doing here?"

"I think you know that, Marvin," Ryan replies. "That weed you were hauling came from New York."

"So? Marijuana is legal in New York. You have no beef with me. The f***ing South Carolina cops turned me over to the D.E.A."

"Cannabis is legal in New York. But murder buys you life," Esposito retorts.

Shorty's long jaw aims for the floor. "What? Murder? I don't know anything about a murder. I just drove a truck."

Esposito leans crossed arms on the table. "And how do you think that much weed got into your truck? Someone killed for it."

"I didn't know, I swear!" Shorty protests. "I was just trying to make a decent payday. I'm putting money away for surgery."

"For your poor dying mother?" Esposito taunts.

Shorty stares down at his hands. "No, um, my hemorrhoids. Lots of drivers get them."

Ryan nods sympathetically. "Occupational hazard, huh?"

"Yeah. I don't eat doughnuts. I sit on them. My special pillow is probably still in my truck. And I'll put my hand on a pile of bibles if you want. I had no idea anyone would get hurt, let alone killed. The lady who hired me said she had a way into a storage facility, and she just needed someone to haul the grass."

"Can you tell me her name?" Ryan prompts gently.

"She just called herself Elise. But she took a call on her cell while we were talking, and I think I heard the guy on the other end call her Truman. I remember because my grandfather was a real fan of "Give 'em Hell Harry."

Ryan holds up his phone with a photo array. "Swipe through these and tell me if you see her."

Shorty goes through several images before stopping at a picture of Elise Truman. "Yeah. This is her. She's the one who hired me. And she paid me a little in advance. The envelope is in my apartment in New York. It probably still has her fingerprints on it. The prison has my keys with my stuff. When you get back, you could use them to get in."

"We'll check that out," Ryan promises.

"And you'll tell the feds I helped you, right? You'll say I cooperated?" Shorty presses.

"If that envelope is there, we will," Ryan assures the distraught driver.

"Yeah, we'll take a good look," Esposito adds, gesturing toward the door. "Let's get out of here."

"It's in the mail holder in the kitchen," Shorty calls after them.

Turning, Ryan gives him a thumbs up.

"How come I always have to be the good cop?" Ryan grumbles on his way to the prison parking area.

Esposito snorts. "Have you looked in a mirror lately, Bro? That wimpy face looks like it just left Catholic school."

"You can't be a wimp and survive the nuns," Ryan argues. "And Taggart didn't take much scaring. I think being dumped behind bars already did it. Assuming he was telling the truth about the envelope, we got what we needed."

"And if we want to hold on to it, we better move our asses back to New York before the feds decide to toss his place," Esposito asserts.

"We still have to get the presents for Jenny and Bambi," Ryan reminds him.

"Yeah, right after we check out Taggart's apartment."

"There was still hardly anything on the news or social media about what happened at Clown Burger," Rick reports as Kate puts away her cell. "Were you able to get the full story from someone at the precinct?"

"Most of it, I think. I spoke with L.T. He was in the locker room this morning with the cops that took the call. He said they told him about it."

"So, what went down?"

"Some asshole with a knife came in and put it to the throat of one of the Belles. He was looking for his ex-wife, who used to work there. He was sure someone knew where she was. But with the turnover in that place, no one even remembered her and probably wouldn't have known where to find her if they did. And none of the crew had the code to get into the personnel records on the computer. So the guy was waiting for a manager to show up to access them. And he told everyone there that he'd kill his hostage if they tried to say anything. He cut her a little to make sure they knew he meant business.

"The unis took in the situation the best they could through the windows at the front but couldn't really see what was happening. But one of them, Anil Agarwal, had soft clothes with him. So he went in as a customer and passed a note to the order taker. She made like she was circling an offer on the receipt and wrote him back. Then he put up some kind of a fuss to get behind the counter and jumped the guy with the knife. The paramedics said the hostage's cut wasn't serious, and everyone else is OK."

"Thank God! But that's probably why it didn't make the news," Rick speculates. "If it bleeds, it leads. No one was killed, and a minor cut probably wasn't enough to cover. But I sense potential irony in the story. Anil Agarwal could be a Hindu. He might not even eat burgers – assuming they actually come from a cow. Still, I suppose he could go with a chicken sandwich. But the Clownburger version is pretty awful."

"He'd deserve a commendation just for ordering one of those," Kate agrees. "But I suspect that the department will take note of what he did, even if the media doesn't. We can use more cops who get the job done without anyone getting hurt."

"And speaking of cops, how do you think the boys are doing?"

"L.T. said they called in that they were on their way back from South Carolina. I haven't heard from Ryan or Espo yet. But if they have something, Espo won't keep a lid on it."

"He doesn't keep a lid on much." Rick agrees. "But while I'm feeling inspired by Officer Agarwal, I'm going to try to work on my new project."

"Your literature book?"

"Uh-huh. But if you hear anything about the Mothership Truck Caper, let me know. And if you need me to help with the boys, just holler – if Jake or Reese doesn't do it first."

"All procrastination welcome?" Kate queries.

"Not this time. I will definitely stick my head up for something important. But if I give myself too many excuses, I don't think I'll be able to get this started. I have too many habits to break and too many easy paths to ignore."

"All right," Kate agrees. "Your office now has a virtual do not disturb sign." Kate watches Rick retreat to his sanctuary. That's not the way he walks when he's going to work on a Storm or even a Heat. There's something about the set of his body, something determined. He's been talking about doing this book for years. But this time, he really might make it happen. In the meantime, unless the boys start howling in concert, she'll try to give her husband some peace.