Chapter 3: Only One Thing Smells That Bad

Detectives Sunny Tran and Troy Harrison rolled inconspicuously in their unmarked police car, a black 2010 Chevrolet Impala LTZ, down the street. They were on their way to the Pawned Off pawn shop in The Wards, with Tran behind the wheel and Harrison riding in the passenger seat. Their colleagues, Detectives Julius Hobbs and Nick Brooks, kept an equally discreet pace not far behind them in an identical-looking unmarked vehicle.

"So, Sunny", Harrison said, "Where are you from?"

Tran gave her new partner a sideways look, at which point Harrison's own look soured. "Sorry", he said graciously, "I didn't mean it like that. Did you grow up here in Chicago?"

The alluring female detective then erupted in a wide smile and wheezing laughter. "I'm just messing with you, dude!" She finally said after catching her breath, "Yes. I grew up here in Chicago. My parents own a Vietnamese bakery in Chinatown. I lived in the apartment above it my whole life until I joined the force six years ago."

Harrison nodded. "Cool", he said, "Have you always worked here in The Wards?"

"Yeah", Tran replied, "For all six years, almost seven now, I guess. Just so you know, they tend to put a lot of rookies at District Thirty-Four as a sort of test to their mettle."

"Meaning that if they can't handle the high crime", Harrison said, "the department would brand them 'damaged goods' and boot them?"

"Well I should clarify", Tran replied, "I haven't actually seen that happen myself yet, but yeah, that's the rumor."

Harrison sighed. "Then I hope that the rumor is indeed just that", he said, "Anyway, tell me about this Rodriguez case."

"Last Monday around one o' clock in the morning", Tran began to explain, "This nineteen-year-old guy named Ronaldo Rodriguez was walking home from the Pharmingtons Pharmacy where he worked the nightshift. He was crossing a crosswalk when a white unmarked panel van stopped suddenly in front of him. Some witnesses told us later that Mister Rodriguez flipped off and cussed out the driver just before multiple gunshots were heard."

"And this Rodriguez kid was hit", Harrison said as he filled in the blanks.

"First shot hit him in the left shoulder", Tran confirmed, "Second shot hit him right between the eyes. Some passersby told responding officers that they saw the van driver's hand appear out the driver's side window holding a handgun just before the shots rang out."

"What kind of caliber were the bullets?" Harrison asked.

"The medical examiner pulled two nine-millimeter hollow point rounds out of him during the autopsy", Tran replied, "The first round was deformed when it smashed against the edge of kid's collar bone, but he was able to extract an intact round from his head."

Harrison then sighed. "So", he said, "This poor kid dies because he was understandably pissed off when some shmuck in a white van almost plows him down in a crosswalk."

Tran looked at Harrison and nodded. "Welcome to The Wards, bro", she said, "If this neighborhood had a personality, I don't think it would be a very cheery one."

A loud chirping sound then came from the Impala's police radio, indicating an incoming transmission, before Detective Dobbs' voice was heard.

"Heads up guys", Dobbs said through the radio, "We're rolling up on the shop now. We'll meet up at that parking lot across the street and go over things before we head inside, over."

Harrison picked up the radio mic and pressed the "Transmit" button. "Copy that, Dobbs", he replied into the radio.

The two pairs of detectives pulled into the large public parking lot across the street from the Pawned Off Pawn Shop. They were surprised to see a black 2002 Dodge Dakota pickup truck with darkly-tinted windows sitting in one of the spots closest to where they parked. Two older looking gentlemen stood outside of it, leaning up against the side of the truck.

"Any idea who these guys are?" Harrison asked Tran as she stopped the car and put it in park.

Tran discreetly pointed to a tall, lean-figured man with salt and pepper hair looking to be in his early fifties. "That's Hank Voight", she said before motioning to the other man. This other gentleman looked more grizzled with a dark handlebar mustache and appeared to be of the same age as Voight, if not a bit younger. "…And that's Alvin Olinsky", she said, "They're detectives with the Gang Unit at District Twenty-One."

The four detectives exited their vehicles and approached the two plainclothes detectives. Voight was dressed in a black leather jacket similar to the one worn by Harrison, while his partner, Olinsky, wore a black fleece zippered jacket and matching knit cap.

"Hey Sunny", Voight greeted, extending a hand to Tran.

"Hi Hank", Tran replied as she shook his hand, then nodded politely to Olinsky, "Hey Alvin."

"Sunny", the soft-spoken Olinsky said.

Tran then motioned to Harrison. "This is my new partner, Detective Troy Harrison", she said, "Troy, this is Hank Voight and Alvin Olinsky from the Twenty-First District Gang Unit."

Harrison took a moment to shake Voight and Olinsky's hands cordially. "Nice to meet you, fellas", he said.

"What brings you guys here?" Dobbs then asked Voight.

"We heard you guys were looking for Maxwell King", Olinsky said, "We've been looking into him for a while now. We think he might have some connection to Delford Wade and the Black Viceroys."

"They operate out of the Rossi-Fremont housing projects, right?" Brooks asked.

"Yep", Voight said, "We think this King guy may be one of their enforcers. Detectives at our district are investigating him in reference to an assault against a teenage boy that happened about two weeks ago. It's alleged that the young boy was part of a rival gang."

"We think he shot a nineteen-year-old kid named Rodriguez last Monday morning just for flipping him the bird", Harrison said, "How do you guys want to handle this?"

"Obviously", Voight said, "The murder case you guys are working trumps our gang case. We're just asking for a crack at him once you get him into custody."

"Well", Tran said, "There are enough of us here to secure the shop downstairs, head to the upper apartment, breach the door, and grab King if he's in there. Why don't you guys back us up on this one?"

Voight and Olinsky traded looks before Voight nodded affirmatively to Tran. "Sounds good", he said, "let's vest up."

The six detectives then strapped on tactical vests and leather duty search gloves. Tran retrieved a paper copy of the search warrant for Maxwell King's apartment before they entered the ground floor of the Pawned Off Pawn Shop. The shop's owner and manager, a 27-year-old African-American man named Keith Harold, was busy behind the counter.

"Chicago PD", Tran announced to him, displaying her badge. She then held up a mugshot image of Maxwell King with her free hand. "Does this guy live upstairs?" she asked.

Keith Harold looked at the photo and nodded. "Yeah", he said, "That's Max. He rents the apartment upstairs. I'm his landlord."

"Have you seen him come in or out of here today at all, sir?" Harrison asked.

"I saw him come through a couple hours ago", Keith replied, "He had some sketchy Hispanic-looking dude with him. They went upstairs together, and the other dude came down about half an hour later. He went right back out the front door."

"What do you mean 'sketchy'?" Olinsky asked, "Like he was drunk or high?"

Keith nodded. "Definitely", he said, "Like he'd been snorting coke or something. Dude was whacked out of his damn mind."

Tran nodded and placed a folded copy of the search warrant on the glass counter. "Listen", "That's a search warrant for your upstairs apartment. I'm sorry to say your upstairs tenant may be into some seriously illegal stuff, and I'm also sorry to say that we may have to kick in your door."

"You guys reimbursing me for that?" Keith asked.

Hank Voight then cut in. "Tell you what, buddy", he said, "If we have to kick the door, I'll come back next week and repair it myself."

Keith smirked and nodded. "I'll hold you to that, Officer."

Tran turned to Dobbs and Brooks. "You guys do me a favor", she said, "I saw a fire escape on the side of the building when we pulled up. Can you to head out and cover that in case he bolts?"

Dobbs and Brooks both nodded and headed back outside into the alley. Meanwhile, while Tran stayed downstairs to keep Keith occupied, Harrison, Voight, and Olinsky headed to the other side of the store, where a large metal security gate separated the ground floor of the pawn shop from the narrow stairway that lead to the upstairs apartment.

Noticing the security gate was locked by a large steel padlock, Olinsky produced a flat pry bar from inside his jacket and made short work of prying the padlock loose instead of breaking it off entirely. He removed the padlock and placed it in the corner of the room, at which point Voight pulled the security gate away with ease. The three detectives stealthily made their way up the very slender stairway to the apartment's front door.

Voight was about to knock on the door when the three of them were very abruptly met by a very pungent and unmistakable odor. The normally very stoic Gang Unit detective grimaced and covered his mouth with a gloved hand before looking to Olinsky and Harrison.

"Goddamn!" he exclaimed, "Well fellas, I can tell you that only one thing smells that bad."

Harrison, after withdrawing a gloved hand from his own hand, grabbed his portable radio and keyed the mic. "Harrison to Dobbs", he said into the radio, "Be advised, we've got a very bad odor coming through the front door. Can you guys see anything from the fire escape? Over."

"The fire escape looks clear", Dobbs said from the radio, "We're going to climb up and look in the window. Stand by."

The radio chirped back to life roughly 40 seconds later. "Dobbs to Harrison", Dobbs said from the radio, "Be advised, we have a man down in the living room! Repeat, man down!"

With that, Voight swiftly kicked in the door and the three men rushed into the apartment with guns drawn, tactically securing every visible corner.

"Chicago Police!" Harrison called out, "Anyone in here, call out now!"

The three detectives were met with a very ghastly sight when they reached the living room. The body of a black male lay face up on a tattered shag rug, surrounded by numerous buzzing flies with maggots devouring the flesh of his face. He had apparently been bludgeoned to death, as indicated by a large gash and several bruises on his face and head that Harrison took note of.

Voight shook his head in disgust and turned away, keying his radio mic. "Dobbs, Tran, Brooks, we need you guys to secure downstairs", he said into the radio, "We've got a homicide up here. I'll radio it in, over."

"Copy", Tran said from the radio.

"Copy that, Voight", Dobbs said from the radio, "Coming in now, over."

Voight then switched the channel on his radio before keying the mic once again, "Twenty-One-George-Bravo to Squad", he said into the radio, "We have a homicide in the apartment above the Pawned Off Pawn Shop in The Wards. Requesting the Crime Lab and a Medical Examiner. Plainclothes detectives are already on scene, over."