"Serendipity"
Disclaimer: Love 'em, don't own 'em.
(3/4)
Beau Felton had set one foot in the homicide squadroom when he was almost flattened by a tailback sweep.
"Oh, damn!" cried the tall, goateed black detective who had nearly trampled over him. "Sorry 'bout that man," the guy said, bouncing a worn football in his hands. "Didn't see you comin' in there."
Something clicked in Beau's memory. "You're Lewis, right?"
The cop eyed Beau warily and backed away. "Depends on who wants to know."
"Meldrick is afraid you're a process server!" called a skinny detective with narrow glasses.
"You the one oughta know from lawsuits, Munch," Meldrick Lewis shot back. "What with as many dee-vorces you got. Besides," he sniffled. "I don' know what this lady's all worked up about, whip-lash, it was just a fender bender. . ."
"And who uses their turn signals in Baltimore," chimed Munch and another cop, obviously reassuring Lewis with a mantra of his own making.
"That's what I'm saying!" cried Lewis, spreading his hands in indignation.
"I think you're safe from the forces of personal injury law for now," said the third cop. Beau recognized him as Lewis's partner, Steve Crosetti. "Meldrick, you ought to remember Detective Fulton from narcotics."
Close enough, Beau thought. Out loud, he asked, "Is Pembleton around?"
"Oh yeah," Munch said, nodding sagely. "Pembleton is never far from his desk." This sent the other two into a fit of laughter, and Beau started to bristle. What was is with these homicide guys that everything was a joke unless they decided it was serious?
Maybe in remorse for almost taking Beau's foot off, Lewis answered.. "Frank's workin' on. . ." Lewis's eyes drifted to a white dry-erase board. "Ellis," he said. Beau saw the name "Ellis" written in red. Above it were a string of black names and a few more in red. The name "Pembleton" headed the column. "Yeah," said Lewis. "Jinx Ellis. One o' them West Side drug war killin's. Stone whodunit, mos' likely."
"Well. . ." Beau cleared his throat. "I have reason to believe that may not be a drug war killing after all."
Shock and awe were notably absent from the faces of the homicide squad. Crosetti and Munch had abandoned football to argue about the chess problem in the Sun, and Lewis shrugged. "I guess you can leave him a note or something. Man, Steve," he called to Crosetti, "I tried the answer they gave once, and your niece checkmated me in three moves."
"Did it ever occur to you," Crosetti shot back, "that you're lousy at chess?"
"Angela was eight-and-under diocese champion!" Lewis protested, leaning over to look at the paper.
"Right, knucklehead," his partner answered. "I just said that to make you feel better."
"Thanks," Beau mouthed to no one. He walked to Frank's desk, thinking. If his hunch was good, he wouldn't have to let Pembleton in on it at all. It would be great to present him with the "perpetator", but if Frank had already investigated this angle, Beau would feel like a schmuck, but. . ."Pembleton hasn't called in, has he?" Beau addressed the back of head covered with long red curls, whose hands were rummaging through a nearby desk.
A slender woman turned to face him. "Do I look like a secretary?"she demanded. Her face bore intelligent green eyes over a sharp nose, and more to the point, her brown-checked men's style suit jacket clearly displayed the bulge of a shoulder holster.
"You a detective?" Beau asked.
"No," she snapped. "I'm the stripper. I wear this -" she fingered her gun, "because I get better tips."
After the indifference of the others, her reaction made Beau smile and he offered a hand. "Felton - narcotics."
"Hey, Felton Narcotics, I'm Howard Homicide." She took his hand and smiled back. Her face was smooth and un-made-up, her hair vibrant and flowing red. Beau's mind clicked to "Howard" at the head of one column on the board, over a long list of black names. If that meant what Beau thought it meant, Detective Howard was no secretary.
"I need to talk to Pembleton about this Ellis case."
Howard shrugged. "You could leave a note. . ."
Beau threw out his hands and headed for the door. "Forget it."
Howard caught him in the hall. "Hey!" She reached out a finger and, to his surprise, touched the skin on his hand. "It doesn't feel that thin, hmm?."
When Beau got it, he smiled too. "What's next, gonna check my shoulder for chips?"
"If need be. . ." She spread her hands. "Got a theory about the West Side Drug War, 1991 edition, lay it on me."
"I'm not sure Ellis is a drug killing." Howard raised an eyebrow, and Felton said, "Hear me out. We get there this morning, I see Tony T. Tolliver and Sugar Ray Phelps - a couple nobodies in Mac Daddy's crew - hangin' around, screamin' about how the Cobras perpetatrated this hit."
"Perpetetrated?" Kay repeated.
"Don't ask. So I'm wondering - what are they doing there?"
"Want you to catch the guys that kacked their friend, I guess. Great faith in the American system of justice as the best way to avenge their buddy's death."
"Yeah, that sounds likely. They know we're goin' after the Cobras, why risk hanging around unless. . ."
"They want to throw suspicion off themselves. Which isn't necessary, except. . ."
"Crime makes you stupid." Beau said. "Not that Tony and Sugar need help in the stupidity department."
"You think, what, they want to take over Ellis's territory?"
Beau shook his head. "Not high enough up for that. But maybe Tony's got a personal beef with Ellis? He can get him out of the way by. . ."
"Stealing the Cobras' M.O." Howard nodded. "Who notices another body in the middle of a war. You said there were two guys there. Why do you suspect, um, Mr. T?"
"'Cause I pity the fool. . ." Beau said in his best B.A. Baracus. "Sorry, I couldn't resist. Because Tony said something to me about Jinx - that's Ellis - dating his - Tony's - sister. And going back through the files, I remembered - I locked up one of Tony's old girlfriends for distribution a while back, and she basically accused everybody she knew of everything under the sun. I wrote it all down and we looked into some of it, but some of it was just so out there."
"Like. . .?" Howard prompted.
"Like she thought that Tony T. and his sister Nisha were - close."
"So?"
"Really close."
"Ahh. . ." She narrowed her eyes. "Like in one of those Greek tragedies."
"Yeah," Beau said. "Geraldo Rex. Among her various rantings and ravings, this Wanda woman tells me how some corner boy was hanging around Nisha too much. Tony got jealous and threatened to kill the guy if he didn't leave town."
"So maybe this time - more than threats, hmmm?" Howard pondered. "Well - I can tell Frank to keep it in mind, maybe ask Tony some questions, but it's not like we're gonna get a warrant off a hunch and an old rumor." She shrugged. "Pembleton works alone, and last I heard he was questioning the Cobra crew."
"And it's not like a dead pusher is worth more than one detective anyway, is that what you're saying?" Beau didn't disapprove, just wanted to know where he stood.
Howard smiled. "All murder victims are equal. And I can get you a good deal on the Francis Scott Key bridge."
"Right so. . .if just by chance Tony and Nisha were shacked up in a crackhouse on Bruce Street? And just by chance narcotics knew this was a crackhouse and a couple narcotics detectives could make some calls and get a warrant? If maybe somebody in this house wanted to get out from under a distribution charge and maybe knew something about Tony doing Jinx?"
"I like the way you think, Felton Narcotics."
"It's Beau. Thank you, Howard Homicide."
Howard smiled. "Kay. And naturally this conversation never happened, seeing as we wouldn't want to condone using drug raids as an excuse. . ."
"I'm sorry, were we discussing something?" He smiled and added. "I'll just be getting back to my narcotics duties with Detective Russert. . ."
"You're Megan Russert's partner?" Kay asked a bit too eagerly.
"Just for this week" Beau confessed. "And I saw all that black under your name." He smiled. "Don't be modest, you're a voodoo kiddy too."
"A what?"
"Ask Frank," Beau said. "It takes one to know one."
"About time you got here." Beau accosted Megan in the parking garage. "Let's go, let's go, let's go!"
"Let's. . ." Russert stared at him. "Whatever happened to 'take your time, the war on drugs . . ."
"Blah blah blah - " He waved dismissively. "That was before we had the warrant."
"Warrant?" Megan asked blankly.
"In the car. I'll explain later. Cassidy and O'Reilley are coming for backup." He urged her into the car and asked. "How's Caroline?"
"Caroline?" Megan sounded more confused then ever, then hastily added, "Oh, fine. Terrific - now, fill me in."
"Police! Open up, we got a warrant!" Russert and Felton lined up on the stoop, guns drawn.
The door swung cautiously open, and they faced a skinny, wide-eyed boy of no more than ten. "Stand back," Russert said gently, then yelled, "Come out or we're coming in!" Footsteps sounded overhead, and the two young Irish cops who had entered through the back raced up the stairs to herd occupants into the center. They were mostly women, a few kids, and some sullen young men, but no one resisted. They knew the drill.
Beau approached the last closed door, a downstairs bathroom, when a piercing scream sounded inside. He reached for the knob, and it flew out of his hand as a tall, thin girl of nineteen flung herself onto the hallway floor. Blood ran from her wrists, but when she raised her hands, Beau could tell the cuts were not deep. She clutched a pink safety razor, struggling to remove the blade.
"Put it down," said Beau firmly. He pointed his gun and fumbled for rubber gloves. She gave a quick nod, sat up, and gulped down a sob. Felton dropped an unopened pack of tissues by her hands. She tore them open and rushed to dab her wrists, all the time babbling out of control.
"Tony, it was Tony - it was his idea, just - he made me do things, man, bad things - it was Tony! I didn't want to kill him, but he -" she choked out a sob "- Tony made me and Sugar help. I didn't wan-n-n-t tooooo!" she howled
Megan approached and knelt beside the girl. "So, you, Nisha Tolliver, helped your brother Tony Tolliver, and Sugar Ray Phelps, plan the murder of Jinx Ellis?"
Nisha nodded, sniffling into the tissues, then looked slowly from Megan to Beau. "That is what you're here for?"
Beau smiled warmly, placed a hand on Nisha Tolliver's shoulder, and pulled her to her feet. "It is now."
End Part 3
Disclaimer: Love 'em, don't own 'em.
(3/4)
Beau Felton had set one foot in the homicide squadroom when he was almost flattened by a tailback sweep.
"Oh, damn!" cried the tall, goateed black detective who had nearly trampled over him. "Sorry 'bout that man," the guy said, bouncing a worn football in his hands. "Didn't see you comin' in there."
Something clicked in Beau's memory. "You're Lewis, right?"
The cop eyed Beau warily and backed away. "Depends on who wants to know."
"Meldrick is afraid you're a process server!" called a skinny detective with narrow glasses.
"You the one oughta know from lawsuits, Munch," Meldrick Lewis shot back. "What with as many dee-vorces you got. Besides," he sniffled. "I don' know what this lady's all worked up about, whip-lash, it was just a fender bender. . ."
"And who uses their turn signals in Baltimore," chimed Munch and another cop, obviously reassuring Lewis with a mantra of his own making.
"That's what I'm saying!" cried Lewis, spreading his hands in indignation.
"I think you're safe from the forces of personal injury law for now," said the third cop. Beau recognized him as Lewis's partner, Steve Crosetti. "Meldrick, you ought to remember Detective Fulton from narcotics."
Close enough, Beau thought. Out loud, he asked, "Is Pembleton around?"
"Oh yeah," Munch said, nodding sagely. "Pembleton is never far from his desk." This sent the other two into a fit of laughter, and Beau started to bristle. What was is with these homicide guys that everything was a joke unless they decided it was serious?
Maybe in remorse for almost taking Beau's foot off, Lewis answered.. "Frank's workin' on. . ." Lewis's eyes drifted to a white dry-erase board. "Ellis," he said. Beau saw the name "Ellis" written in red. Above it were a string of black names and a few more in red. The name "Pembleton" headed the column. "Yeah," said Lewis. "Jinx Ellis. One o' them West Side drug war killin's. Stone whodunit, mos' likely."
"Well. . ." Beau cleared his throat. "I have reason to believe that may not be a drug war killing after all."
Shock and awe were notably absent from the faces of the homicide squad. Crosetti and Munch had abandoned football to argue about the chess problem in the Sun, and Lewis shrugged. "I guess you can leave him a note or something. Man, Steve," he called to Crosetti, "I tried the answer they gave once, and your niece checkmated me in three moves."
"Did it ever occur to you," Crosetti shot back, "that you're lousy at chess?"
"Angela was eight-and-under diocese champion!" Lewis protested, leaning over to look at the paper.
"Right, knucklehead," his partner answered. "I just said that to make you feel better."
"Thanks," Beau mouthed to no one. He walked to Frank's desk, thinking. If his hunch was good, he wouldn't have to let Pembleton in on it at all. It would be great to present him with the "perpetator", but if Frank had already investigated this angle, Beau would feel like a schmuck, but. . ."Pembleton hasn't called in, has he?" Beau addressed the back of head covered with long red curls, whose hands were rummaging through a nearby desk.
A slender woman turned to face him. "Do I look like a secretary?"she demanded. Her face bore intelligent green eyes over a sharp nose, and more to the point, her brown-checked men's style suit jacket clearly displayed the bulge of a shoulder holster.
"You a detective?" Beau asked.
"No," she snapped. "I'm the stripper. I wear this -" she fingered her gun, "because I get better tips."
After the indifference of the others, her reaction made Beau smile and he offered a hand. "Felton - narcotics."
"Hey, Felton Narcotics, I'm Howard Homicide." She took his hand and smiled back. Her face was smooth and un-made-up, her hair vibrant and flowing red. Beau's mind clicked to "Howard" at the head of one column on the board, over a long list of black names. If that meant what Beau thought it meant, Detective Howard was no secretary.
"I need to talk to Pembleton about this Ellis case."
Howard shrugged. "You could leave a note. . ."
Beau threw out his hands and headed for the door. "Forget it."
Howard caught him in the hall. "Hey!" She reached out a finger and, to his surprise, touched the skin on his hand. "It doesn't feel that thin, hmm?."
When Beau got it, he smiled too. "What's next, gonna check my shoulder for chips?"
"If need be. . ." She spread her hands. "Got a theory about the West Side Drug War, 1991 edition, lay it on me."
"I'm not sure Ellis is a drug killing." Howard raised an eyebrow, and Felton said, "Hear me out. We get there this morning, I see Tony T. Tolliver and Sugar Ray Phelps - a couple nobodies in Mac Daddy's crew - hangin' around, screamin' about how the Cobras perpetatrated this hit."
"Perpetetrated?" Kay repeated.
"Don't ask. So I'm wondering - what are they doing there?"
"Want you to catch the guys that kacked their friend, I guess. Great faith in the American system of justice as the best way to avenge their buddy's death."
"Yeah, that sounds likely. They know we're goin' after the Cobras, why risk hanging around unless. . ."
"They want to throw suspicion off themselves. Which isn't necessary, except. . ."
"Crime makes you stupid." Beau said. "Not that Tony and Sugar need help in the stupidity department."
"You think, what, they want to take over Ellis's territory?"
Beau shook his head. "Not high enough up for that. But maybe Tony's got a personal beef with Ellis? He can get him out of the way by. . ."
"Stealing the Cobras' M.O." Howard nodded. "Who notices another body in the middle of a war. You said there were two guys there. Why do you suspect, um, Mr. T?"
"'Cause I pity the fool. . ." Beau said in his best B.A. Baracus. "Sorry, I couldn't resist. Because Tony said something to me about Jinx - that's Ellis - dating his - Tony's - sister. And going back through the files, I remembered - I locked up one of Tony's old girlfriends for distribution a while back, and she basically accused everybody she knew of everything under the sun. I wrote it all down and we looked into some of it, but some of it was just so out there."
"Like. . .?" Howard prompted.
"Like she thought that Tony T. and his sister Nisha were - close."
"So?"
"Really close."
"Ahh. . ." She narrowed her eyes. "Like in one of those Greek tragedies."
"Yeah," Beau said. "Geraldo Rex. Among her various rantings and ravings, this Wanda woman tells me how some corner boy was hanging around Nisha too much. Tony got jealous and threatened to kill the guy if he didn't leave town."
"So maybe this time - more than threats, hmmm?" Howard pondered. "Well - I can tell Frank to keep it in mind, maybe ask Tony some questions, but it's not like we're gonna get a warrant off a hunch and an old rumor." She shrugged. "Pembleton works alone, and last I heard he was questioning the Cobra crew."
"And it's not like a dead pusher is worth more than one detective anyway, is that what you're saying?" Beau didn't disapprove, just wanted to know where he stood.
Howard smiled. "All murder victims are equal. And I can get you a good deal on the Francis Scott Key bridge."
"Right so. . .if just by chance Tony and Nisha were shacked up in a crackhouse on Bruce Street? And just by chance narcotics knew this was a crackhouse and a couple narcotics detectives could make some calls and get a warrant? If maybe somebody in this house wanted to get out from under a distribution charge and maybe knew something about Tony doing Jinx?"
"I like the way you think, Felton Narcotics."
"It's Beau. Thank you, Howard Homicide."
Howard smiled. "Kay. And naturally this conversation never happened, seeing as we wouldn't want to condone using drug raids as an excuse. . ."
"I'm sorry, were we discussing something?" He smiled and added. "I'll just be getting back to my narcotics duties with Detective Russert. . ."
"You're Megan Russert's partner?" Kay asked a bit too eagerly.
"Just for this week" Beau confessed. "And I saw all that black under your name." He smiled. "Don't be modest, you're a voodoo kiddy too."
"A what?"
"Ask Frank," Beau said. "It takes one to know one."
"About time you got here." Beau accosted Megan in the parking garage. "Let's go, let's go, let's go!"
"Let's. . ." Russert stared at him. "Whatever happened to 'take your time, the war on drugs . . ."
"Blah blah blah - " He waved dismissively. "That was before we had the warrant."
"Warrant?" Megan asked blankly.
"In the car. I'll explain later. Cassidy and O'Reilley are coming for backup." He urged her into the car and asked. "How's Caroline?"
"Caroline?" Megan sounded more confused then ever, then hastily added, "Oh, fine. Terrific - now, fill me in."
"Police! Open up, we got a warrant!" Russert and Felton lined up on the stoop, guns drawn.
The door swung cautiously open, and they faced a skinny, wide-eyed boy of no more than ten. "Stand back," Russert said gently, then yelled, "Come out or we're coming in!" Footsteps sounded overhead, and the two young Irish cops who had entered through the back raced up the stairs to herd occupants into the center. They were mostly women, a few kids, and some sullen young men, but no one resisted. They knew the drill.
Beau approached the last closed door, a downstairs bathroom, when a piercing scream sounded inside. He reached for the knob, and it flew out of his hand as a tall, thin girl of nineteen flung herself onto the hallway floor. Blood ran from her wrists, but when she raised her hands, Beau could tell the cuts were not deep. She clutched a pink safety razor, struggling to remove the blade.
"Put it down," said Beau firmly. He pointed his gun and fumbled for rubber gloves. She gave a quick nod, sat up, and gulped down a sob. Felton dropped an unopened pack of tissues by her hands. She tore them open and rushed to dab her wrists, all the time babbling out of control.
"Tony, it was Tony - it was his idea, just - he made me do things, man, bad things - it was Tony! I didn't want to kill him, but he -" she choked out a sob "- Tony made me and Sugar help. I didn't wan-n-n-t tooooo!" she howled
Megan approached and knelt beside the girl. "So, you, Nisha Tolliver, helped your brother Tony Tolliver, and Sugar Ray Phelps, plan the murder of Jinx Ellis?"
Nisha nodded, sniffling into the tissues, then looked slowly from Megan to Beau. "That is what you're here for?"
Beau smiled warmly, placed a hand on Nisha Tolliver's shoulder, and pulled her to her feet. "It is now."
End Part 3