Also, I claim no knowlegde of our legal system. I look up what I can, and the research is done, but I do not back up what I have written from a legal stand point. However, just because something is wrong does not mean I want it to stay that way. If you catch a boo-boo, please LET ME KNOW!! I will do what I can to [hopefully] fix it, or warn people of the mistake.
Chapter Four: Bait, Seize and Wait
Otto's Auto
Corner of Harrison and Greenwich St.
Tuesday, May 2nd
"Philip Kip."
"Right." Olivia, said unfastening the clip on her holster. She and Elliot had just arrived at the garage, coming from an interview on a separate case.
"Where do you want us?" Elliot asked.
Munch stared out the window in the auto shop's office, awaiting for the nine o'clock arrival of the suspect.
"Right here's fine. We placed spare units out back, in case you two didn't get here in time."
Fin breathed in and out, anxious and tense as he always got before a bust. This, however, was no where near as high-strung as being UC for Narcotics had been. Working undercover 24-7 had forced him to learn the ways of an entirely different world, requiring a bit more than heavy breathing to relieve tension.
When he could escape the world of cops and dope dealers, good guys and bad, he was at peace, a harmony he had only found within himself in times of stress emancipation. He was able at these times to see what really mattered in his life and in others, everything so clear.
Yet, even in his solitary times of peace when he was fully aware of life, the tension, the danger was still there, in the distance waiting for him. Beckoning him. And until he had stopped working UC, that danger had become a normal part of his every second life.
And 'every second life' was how many drug dealers saw their own. Not every day lives, because if you thought of yourself as having a tomorrow for sure, then you'd let your guard down and forget to protect the life you were certain had been prolonged.
The office door opened, ripping Fin's attention from his thoughts to it.
"Here he comes," said Otto Fudali. "Right on time."
Munch pulled out his gun and looked at her watch. "I don't know. My watch says 9:02."
The other detectives readied themselves for Munch to give the go. He waited until Kip was safely inside the garage to open the door and start towards the man.
"Hands up, Mr. Kip."
Philip looked up at the cops headed in his direction, then to the garage exit as the back-up squad came in. He put his hands up looking around in pure bewilderment.
"Philip Kip. You're under arrest for the rapes and murders of Cheryl Ross and Miranda Faulkner."
* * * * *
"I didn't do it! I swear! I swear on my mother's grave, man. I don't even know the chicks you mentioned."
Munch sat down opposite Kip at the interrogation table. "You don't normally ask a girl's name before you pay her for certain... talents?"
Kip looked warily at Munch. "What are we talking about here?"
Fin smirked from his perch by the window behind Kip. "We're talking about your past with pros, Philip."
He shook his head and ran his hands through his hair, not able to look at Munch directly. "I don't know what- You've got it all wrong, man."
"Does he?" Fin pushed himself from up against the wall and stepped directly behind the suspect, leaning in. "Because my partner prides himself on rarely, if ever, being wrong. And I'd hate to see his record broken. Wouldn't you?"
"I don't have a past with hookers. I mean I've had a couple of girlfriends that were real whores, but-"
Fin sneered. "Charming."
Munch looked at the man sitting in the seat opposite him, wringing his hands together in panic. "We've got a hooker that places you as a regular on the streets of Soho."
Kip looked up, eyes betraying the truth.
Munch frowned to himself. This guy's smart. He's giving himself to the soliciting a prostitute charge, so he won't look guilty from the murder charges. That has to be it.
"She can also place you on Ninth Avenue on the night of Miranda Faulkner's disappearance."
"No, I- That's just impossible, it's-"
John pulled out a copy of the sketch artist's composition and dropped it in front of Kip. The color immediately drained from his face. Munch frowned again at the man's reaction. It seemed... genuine.
"Sure looks like you. Detective Tutuola?"
"Oh, yeah. Looks a hell of a lot like you, Phil."
Kip put his head in his hands. After a moment he dropped them and looked down at the sketch. "Yeah, okay. I buy women. I pay the sluts to sleep with me." He met Munch's stare with his own. "But I never, ever killed one of them whores. Never. I swear, man. I swear."
There was a tapping on the glass, and the two detectives headed towards the door.
"Don't get too comfortable." Fin said.
As Munch and Fin entered the viewing room, the ADA and Cregan were having a heated discussion. Elle was standing next to the captain but looking at Kip and taking notes on a pad.
Great, thought Munch grimacing. Psychological interpretation of the subject and keen observation of the detectives at work.
Elle, as if sensing Munch's internal resistance to her presence, turned and left the room closing the door quietly behind her.
"I'm sorry, but that's just the way it seems." said Alex Cabot. "Look, the man hasn't asked for a lawyer once, and he gave up right away on the prostitution bit. Those just don't seem like the actions of a guilty party."
"What are you waiting for?" Cregan asked her exasperated. "Him to incriminate himself on murder charges?"
"May we join the party?" asked Munch.
The two looked at him expectantly.
"I think he's given us the truth when it comes to soliciting prostitutes because he's smart, Counselor. He knows that it's a smaller offense than murder. He admits to that, he acts guilty and he hopes to throw us off."
Fin nodded. "He thinks him telling us about the prostitution, then looking surprised at murder will confuse us."
Cabot looked on disbelieving at the two detectives. "If that's it I'd say he had an Acadamy Award coming. And why exactly would he admit to soliciting prostitutes? It only strenghtens your case."
"The only chance we've got to prove he's the murderer" Munch started, ignoring Alex's question. "- is to get in his house. I'd practically garuntee that this Oscar contender's left at least some mite snipet of proof around. "
Cregan nodded, then turned back to Alex. "Do we have enough for a court order?"
She sighed and looked into the room. "Did Winnie Delman ID him in a line-up?"
"Yes, right away. She knew him from the moment he came in."
"You have a guy picking up a hooker."
Fin started in. "Yeah, the same hooker that was later found in his next door neighbor's trash."
She turned her ice-blue stare on Fin. "Yes, Detective. But days/ later. It's circumstantial at best."
Cregan looked over to her. "Alex, we have him ID'd, matching the sketch, and living not only in the same neighborhood, but behind the scene of both crimes.
"Both crimes," echoed Munch.
Cregan continued. "Plus the fact that he's just admitted being a regular client and as much as admitted he was there Friday night."
She was silent, prompting Cregan. "Do we have enough?"
"The fact that that a prostitute ID'd this man will never hold up to a jury."
Munch looked at the man sitting obediently in his chair. "We're not worried about the jury right now, Counselor. And if we find anything in that house, we won't need to bring Winnie to stand."
"I know a judge that'll give it to you with few inhibitions. Just please find something me solid to work with here."
"That's the plan."