Chapter 3
One early evening several weeks later, Casey stopped at the SVU squad room before calling it a day. Munch was at his desk, poring half-interestedly over a file. The others had already punched out.
"Detective."
"Counselor."
"I just thought I might share the good news with you. Life for Seamus Parnell Muldoon Senior and Junior, Maureen Muldoon and Eamon Farley for arms trafficking and membership in a terrorist organization. Right now, they think it's manna from Heaven. I don't blame them. Life in the Federal Pen is bad enough, but compared life in the Maze, with all those angry Loyalists and Corrections officers who were either injured by or lost loved ones to the IRA, it's as if they were back in their mansion."
"Yeah. I heard Her Majesty's Government is pressing for extradition. But, since the Muldoons were also dealing to Al-Qaeda cells out of that cave, I guess they're singing enough to convince the Feds to keep them here."
"They're singing, alright. But I doubt the Feds will keep them here just for that. They already have the Al-Qaedas the Muldoons did business with. If there is anything more to be milked out of this, it's going to come from that end, not the Muldoons. In any case, Chris is not going to join his family and Farley."
"That little punk! Dropped the dime on his own family. Soon, he's going to wish he was in the Maze with them. He was a "big stud" raping those ten women. But, I doubt he'll ever be the stud of any other relationship, at least for the next twenty-five years."
"At least that, yes." Casey agreed. "But, you know something? I just had the strangest conversation with Arthur Branch. You figured most prominently in it."
"Really?"
"Yeah, really! After he finishes pouring everyone drinks, he, all of sudden, says "That damn Munch! To think his conspiracy obsessions not only solved ten rapes—including five we knew nothing about—but also exposed a major arms trafficking ring and a terrorist operation on top of that!' "
"So I say 'Hey! Give him a break, Arthur! I'll admit he is a bit loopy. But he helped us get a few more heads above the ole' fireplace.' "
"'A bit loopy?' And thanks so much for making me feel like I took part in the mindless slaughter of some poor animal in the name of 'sport!' "
"Yes, but in a nice way. And, you're right. To compare the Muldoons to animals is insulting to the animals. But that's not what stuck out!"
"Another of those 'nagging doubts' of yours?"
"Yes." Casey's eyes narrowed "A couple of them actually. First, I always found it strange that you suddenly felt the need to drag Fin over to the Muldoon mansion to have another look-see, after you told me you were going back to the House, allegedly to get your favorite razor, that night. Fin told me he was ready to throttle you after the mansion was a bust, and then you proceeded to drag him along the beach to the boulders and the cave because you thought that was an ideal location from where the Navy could test-launch hi-tech anti-aircraft rockets..."
"I didn't twist Fin's arm. He could have just waited for me in the car. I told him so. But think about the other bit, Casey. It makes perfect sense! That airliner eight years ago. Then, the Senator's son's plane with his wife and her friend. Then, that foreign carrier. They all passed that way headed points north-east. NTSB still hasn't come up with a decent explanation for any of them. And a team of renowned aerodynamic experts refused to sign off on a report that ruled out the possibility of a rocket..."
"Your 'curiosity,' odd as it seems, found where Chris Muldoon and Eamon Farley were hiding, along with all those explosives and firearms, John. So, if Fin is willing to let that one slide, so I'm I. Besides, I'm happy that that you were quicker on the draw than Farley and Muldoon."
"I'm happy about that too!"
"I don't doubt it. But, then there's..."
"Dammit! I was so close!"
"Nice try! I have several nieces and nephews your age.
"My age?"
"Your mental age. As I was saying, then there's what Arthur says you told him when you got to his office the very morning after the bust. Strange. You hadn't slept for two days before. You spend all night processing the scene. You make the arrests, you close the case. Any normal John Law would head home and grab some much needed z's after that."
"We're not 'any normal police.' We're Special Victims..."
"But you don't go home!" Casey continued as if uninterrupted, crossing her arms in the manner of a schoolteacher about to dish out an unpleasant reprimand. "No, you go straight to Arthur Branch's office. You're waiting for him there when he shows up."
"A matter of that importance, you can't just sleep on it. Besides, no one at the scene would listen to me after we cuffed Muldoon and Farley. Stabler, I understand. He's a former jarhead. But not even Cragen..."
"You're waiting there, unshaven, stinking to high heavens..." Casey ignored him again. "Arthur is wondering 'What the hell is Munch doing here this damn early? He just solved the case of a lifetime after a lifetime of nighttimes. He should be in bed.' But Arthur is a gentleman, so he congratulates you, invites you in and offers you a drink to celebrate. Kind of early in the day if you ask me. But that's Arthur, the epitome of Southern chivalry.
"But, you don't accept his kind offer and shut up, do you, John? No, you go off, jumping up and down like an organ-grinder's monkey that you have something urgent to tell Arthur, something that even Cragen is overlooking!
"Arthur doesn't know you very well at that time, so he immediately ushers you in, asks you to have a seat, and closes the door. Then you pour out your conspiracy theory about the government testing anti-aircraft rockets out of the very site where the crime scene from three years ago happens to be located. You insist that Farley and Muldoon—who was all of eleven when the airliner ended up in the ocean—are just patsies like Lee Harvey Oswald. Useful patsies, because once we got them for Muldoon's rapes and Farley's murders and witness-threatening, we'd lose interest in the area. Then the government can resume testing. What's more, with the Muldoon mansion vacant, there are fewer witnesses."
"Counselor, what, in any of that, does not make sense? Is there anything in what I told Branch that is not plausible?"
"No, it's all plausible. It's also all crazy. Which is what Arthur thinks at this point. He tells you this, but you insist. You don't convince him, but he can see that you're not going to take no for an answer. He realizes that he is the one who needs a drink."
"Yeah, he helped himself. Then he told me he would look into it. That was over a month ago, and I still haven't heard anything!"
"We do have other cases, John. But there is something else I cannot figure out."
"What?" Munch's face was the picture of innocence.
"Like you said, it's been over a month. I still haven't heard anything from Arthur about my letter of resignation."
"His desk is so messy, he probably hasn't found it yet. A team of archeologists would have trouble finding a live dinosaur on that desk."
"When I left it on his desk, it was the only thing there. There was nothing else on his blotter. Of course, his secretary could have come in and left other papers for him. She usually does. But she would have left it in a neat, orderly pile—next to, not on top of, anything that was already there."
"Well, maybe his regular secretary was out that day. You know how temps are. You have to show them everything..."
"Maybe. I'll have to verify that."
"I'm wounded..."
"You'll live. But then, there's something you just said about Arthur helping himself to a drink...."
"What?"
"Arthur's liquor cabinet runs perpendicular to his desk."
"I'm glad to see you remember your geometry!"
"That means his back was turned to you when he was pouring. He couldn't see if anything happened to disappear from his desk..."
"That's right. He couldn't!"
There was a long silence. Munch and Casey looked into each other's eyes. Casey slowly walked over to Munch's desk, and sat down in the chair besides it. She uncrossed her arms, and put a hand on Munch's. Her eyes were beginning to moisten.
"John..." she began at last "You know I'll never be able to repay you for that. I was really ready to sacrifice my job to make this case right. I would do it again in a heartbeat."
"Which is exactly why we can't afford to lose you, Casey."
Casey let out a half-sob, half-sigh. Munch leaned forward and put a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"I've been a police since before you were born. There's very little I haven't seen. Everyone rats everyone out when it's their skin on the line. And not just perps. Police too. The bosses kick you when the Mayor kicks them. Even your own partners drag you down with them. It's so bad that sometimes you get the feeling that the only difference between you and the perp is that you're the one with the badge."
"Then why do you go on?" asked Casey, brushing a tear from her cheek.
"Because it's the only thing you got. Sad isn't it. But that's the truth. You resign yourself to it.
"Then you walked into the picture. The way you stood up to Fowler a little while back? You had me thinking Fin put a bad batch of LSD in my coffee. I never imagined something like that was possible.
"And then, the other night. Casey, I've seen so many police and so many State's Attorney's sacrifice cases—and good cops—to protect their careers. You did something I never thought I'd ever see another human being do in this lifetime. For you, making this right was more important than your career. It was as if I found a perfect diamond. You know what, I did!"
"John!" The word came out as a mixture of a laugh and a sob. Casey's mouth cracked into something resembling a smile as she wiped away another tear.
"I mean it Casey! With people like you, this life is worth living after all."
Casey let out an embarrassed laugh, as she took Munch's proffered handkerchief and wiped her eyes. She handed it back to him, and there was another long silence.
"You're a wonderful friend, John!" Casey leaned forward and gave him a peck on the cheek, the kind of kiss a sister gives to her older brother. "There is something seriously wrong with your ex-wives for them not to have seen that!"
With that, Casey gave Munch a hug that was stronger and tighter than he imagined it would be. Then she got up and left the squad room, leaving Munch with a pleasant warmth he hadn't felt for decades.
One early evening several weeks later, Casey stopped at the SVU squad room before calling it a day. Munch was at his desk, poring half-interestedly over a file. The others had already punched out.
"Detective."
"Counselor."
"I just thought I might share the good news with you. Life for Seamus Parnell Muldoon Senior and Junior, Maureen Muldoon and Eamon Farley for arms trafficking and membership in a terrorist organization. Right now, they think it's manna from Heaven. I don't blame them. Life in the Federal Pen is bad enough, but compared life in the Maze, with all those angry Loyalists and Corrections officers who were either injured by or lost loved ones to the IRA, it's as if they were back in their mansion."
"Yeah. I heard Her Majesty's Government is pressing for extradition. But, since the Muldoons were also dealing to Al-Qaeda cells out of that cave, I guess they're singing enough to convince the Feds to keep them here."
"They're singing, alright. But I doubt the Feds will keep them here just for that. They already have the Al-Qaedas the Muldoons did business with. If there is anything more to be milked out of this, it's going to come from that end, not the Muldoons. In any case, Chris is not going to join his family and Farley."
"That little punk! Dropped the dime on his own family. Soon, he's going to wish he was in the Maze with them. He was a "big stud" raping those ten women. But, I doubt he'll ever be the stud of any other relationship, at least for the next twenty-five years."
"At least that, yes." Casey agreed. "But, you know something? I just had the strangest conversation with Arthur Branch. You figured most prominently in it."
"Really?"
"Yeah, really! After he finishes pouring everyone drinks, he, all of sudden, says "That damn Munch! To think his conspiracy obsessions not only solved ten rapes—including five we knew nothing about—but also exposed a major arms trafficking ring and a terrorist operation on top of that!' "
"So I say 'Hey! Give him a break, Arthur! I'll admit he is a bit loopy. But he helped us get a few more heads above the ole' fireplace.' "
"'A bit loopy?' And thanks so much for making me feel like I took part in the mindless slaughter of some poor animal in the name of 'sport!' "
"Yes, but in a nice way. And, you're right. To compare the Muldoons to animals is insulting to the animals. But that's not what stuck out!"
"Another of those 'nagging doubts' of yours?"
"Yes." Casey's eyes narrowed "A couple of them actually. First, I always found it strange that you suddenly felt the need to drag Fin over to the Muldoon mansion to have another look-see, after you told me you were going back to the House, allegedly to get your favorite razor, that night. Fin told me he was ready to throttle you after the mansion was a bust, and then you proceeded to drag him along the beach to the boulders and the cave because you thought that was an ideal location from where the Navy could test-launch hi-tech anti-aircraft rockets..."
"I didn't twist Fin's arm. He could have just waited for me in the car. I told him so. But think about the other bit, Casey. It makes perfect sense! That airliner eight years ago. Then, the Senator's son's plane with his wife and her friend. Then, that foreign carrier. They all passed that way headed points north-east. NTSB still hasn't come up with a decent explanation for any of them. And a team of renowned aerodynamic experts refused to sign off on a report that ruled out the possibility of a rocket..."
"Your 'curiosity,' odd as it seems, found where Chris Muldoon and Eamon Farley were hiding, along with all those explosives and firearms, John. So, if Fin is willing to let that one slide, so I'm I. Besides, I'm happy that that you were quicker on the draw than Farley and Muldoon."
"I'm happy about that too!"
"I don't doubt it. But, then there's..."
"Dammit! I was so close!"
"Nice try! I have several nieces and nephews your age.
"My age?"
"Your mental age. As I was saying, then there's what Arthur says you told him when you got to his office the very morning after the bust. Strange. You hadn't slept for two days before. You spend all night processing the scene. You make the arrests, you close the case. Any normal John Law would head home and grab some much needed z's after that."
"We're not 'any normal police.' We're Special Victims..."
"But you don't go home!" Casey continued as if uninterrupted, crossing her arms in the manner of a schoolteacher about to dish out an unpleasant reprimand. "No, you go straight to Arthur Branch's office. You're waiting for him there when he shows up."
"A matter of that importance, you can't just sleep on it. Besides, no one at the scene would listen to me after we cuffed Muldoon and Farley. Stabler, I understand. He's a former jarhead. But not even Cragen..."
"You're waiting there, unshaven, stinking to high heavens..." Casey ignored him again. "Arthur is wondering 'What the hell is Munch doing here this damn early? He just solved the case of a lifetime after a lifetime of nighttimes. He should be in bed.' But Arthur is a gentleman, so he congratulates you, invites you in and offers you a drink to celebrate. Kind of early in the day if you ask me. But that's Arthur, the epitome of Southern chivalry.
"But, you don't accept his kind offer and shut up, do you, John? No, you go off, jumping up and down like an organ-grinder's monkey that you have something urgent to tell Arthur, something that even Cragen is overlooking!
"Arthur doesn't know you very well at that time, so he immediately ushers you in, asks you to have a seat, and closes the door. Then you pour out your conspiracy theory about the government testing anti-aircraft rockets out of the very site where the crime scene from three years ago happens to be located. You insist that Farley and Muldoon—who was all of eleven when the airliner ended up in the ocean—are just patsies like Lee Harvey Oswald. Useful patsies, because once we got them for Muldoon's rapes and Farley's murders and witness-threatening, we'd lose interest in the area. Then the government can resume testing. What's more, with the Muldoon mansion vacant, there are fewer witnesses."
"Counselor, what, in any of that, does not make sense? Is there anything in what I told Branch that is not plausible?"
"No, it's all plausible. It's also all crazy. Which is what Arthur thinks at this point. He tells you this, but you insist. You don't convince him, but he can see that you're not going to take no for an answer. He realizes that he is the one who needs a drink."
"Yeah, he helped himself. Then he told me he would look into it. That was over a month ago, and I still haven't heard anything!"
"We do have other cases, John. But there is something else I cannot figure out."
"What?" Munch's face was the picture of innocence.
"Like you said, it's been over a month. I still haven't heard anything from Arthur about my letter of resignation."
"His desk is so messy, he probably hasn't found it yet. A team of archeologists would have trouble finding a live dinosaur on that desk."
"When I left it on his desk, it was the only thing there. There was nothing else on his blotter. Of course, his secretary could have come in and left other papers for him. She usually does. But she would have left it in a neat, orderly pile—next to, not on top of, anything that was already there."
"Well, maybe his regular secretary was out that day. You know how temps are. You have to show them everything..."
"Maybe. I'll have to verify that."
"I'm wounded..."
"You'll live. But then, there's something you just said about Arthur helping himself to a drink...."
"What?"
"Arthur's liquor cabinet runs perpendicular to his desk."
"I'm glad to see you remember your geometry!"
"That means his back was turned to you when he was pouring. He couldn't see if anything happened to disappear from his desk..."
"That's right. He couldn't!"
There was a long silence. Munch and Casey looked into each other's eyes. Casey slowly walked over to Munch's desk, and sat down in the chair besides it. She uncrossed her arms, and put a hand on Munch's. Her eyes were beginning to moisten.
"John..." she began at last "You know I'll never be able to repay you for that. I was really ready to sacrifice my job to make this case right. I would do it again in a heartbeat."
"Which is exactly why we can't afford to lose you, Casey."
Casey let out a half-sob, half-sigh. Munch leaned forward and put a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"I've been a police since before you were born. There's very little I haven't seen. Everyone rats everyone out when it's their skin on the line. And not just perps. Police too. The bosses kick you when the Mayor kicks them. Even your own partners drag you down with them. It's so bad that sometimes you get the feeling that the only difference between you and the perp is that you're the one with the badge."
"Then why do you go on?" asked Casey, brushing a tear from her cheek.
"Because it's the only thing you got. Sad isn't it. But that's the truth. You resign yourself to it.
"Then you walked into the picture. The way you stood up to Fowler a little while back? You had me thinking Fin put a bad batch of LSD in my coffee. I never imagined something like that was possible.
"And then, the other night. Casey, I've seen so many police and so many State's Attorney's sacrifice cases—and good cops—to protect their careers. You did something I never thought I'd ever see another human being do in this lifetime. For you, making this right was more important than your career. It was as if I found a perfect diamond. You know what, I did!"
"John!" The word came out as a mixture of a laugh and a sob. Casey's mouth cracked into something resembling a smile as she wiped away another tear.
"I mean it Casey! With people like you, this life is worth living after all."
Casey let out an embarrassed laugh, as she took Munch's proffered handkerchief and wiped her eyes. She handed it back to him, and there was another long silence.
"You're a wonderful friend, John!" Casey leaned forward and gave him a peck on the cheek, the kind of kiss a sister gives to her older brother. "There is something seriously wrong with your ex-wives for them not to have seen that!"
With that, Casey gave Munch a hug that was stronger and tighter than he imagined it would be. Then she got up and left the squad room, leaving Munch with a pleasant warmth he hadn't felt for decades.