Hate Crimes 07

"I want to start taking some accounting courses. You know kinda get my feet wet before I jump and take a business degree. After that, who knows… maybe even business law?"

Lisa Pederson looked over the grade transcripts of the young man in front of her. "I see you were originally studying for a contractor's license, Mr. Steckle."

"Yeah, but that was before the retinitis pigmentosa got so bad that I was declared legally blind." Pete smiled towards the woman's voice. "I can distinguish light from dark and sometimes I can see colors. Now I've finished independence training at Lighthouse and have a night job. Still, I want to do more that answer phones and dispatch cars for the rest of my life."

"Well, I'll see what we can set you up with, it shouldn't take long" Mrs. Pederson smiled as she opened a new file for Pete. "You're going to need a tour of the campus and all the buildings where you'll be studying. I can arrange that before the Christmas holiday if you would like."

"No, that's all right, my partner, John, will be helping me to get started; then I'm on my own."

"Yes," her voice came out a little tighter, "so, we can go on from there."

"So, now what," Sipowicz paced to the detective's desks. "We don't have forever, ya know."

"It's not going to take forever," Jim replied. "It is only going to take one day, two at the most, depending on how we plan it."

"We figured," Baldwin cut in, "that it is not Mrs. Pederson or Pastor Pederson but the Pederson boys that are doing the deed."

"And what made you come up with that brilliant observation, Sherlock?" Sipowicz shot at Baldwin.

"Well, when we interviewed the Pederson males, we found one very calm and helpful minister and two very pissed off young men."

Clark shifted in his seat, "the sons blame their mother. They think she wasn't forceful enough getting them scholarships for college. Daddy tried to deflect their anger, but wasn't very successful."

"But," Andy said, "as a school employee she coulda got some kind of break for family, right?"

"In this age of cut backs and salary versus contract some of the usual frills are missing. Seems Mrs. P. could get basic tuition covered, but her sons needed more labs and extra curricular services and that was where NYC drew the line." John just shook his head. "I still don't get why these vics, though."

"That's obvious," Jim Dunbar said "they are sinful and they are needy. Sinful because they are gay and needy because they are blind; so I imagine that the Pederson boys believe they are saving their victims from a life of sin and misery."

"Still, why do you figure they are escalating now?"

Jonesjust shook his head. "Seems Mark Pederson tried the pre-law course with Carl Willets and couldn't keep up with the man. Thenhe repeated the same courseand the Stravos kid repeated the process… just more and more humiliation. Pederson mind just snapped. This was the answer he found to all of his problems. It must be very humbling to be less than someone he felt was so obviously beneath him. Good thing Willets was Dutch instead of some poor, black kid… probably wouldn't have made it as long as he did."

"Of course," Jim put in, "that might have been the breaking point. He is this smart, blue eyed Dutch kid who is so much like Mark is and yet so very, very different."

"How'd you know he was blond and blue eyed?" Marty asked sweetly, obviously jerking Jim's chain.

"Can it, Russo." Jim was exasperated. "I am gonna be so glad to get back to Karen. How does Tom put up with you?"

"It must be love," Sipowicz said as he headed for his office.

Russo and Baldwin were getting ready to head to the cube truck/observation post that would be sitting near the Student Union of New York College. Inside there was going to be a meeting of the Gay and Lesbian Alliance and Pete Steckle had told Mrs. Pederson he and his partner were going to be there.

"See, I hold my cane like this," Pete demonstrated his technique to John Clark, "and don't shut your eyes. I can still see bright lights. My girlfriend says my head always turns to them."

"Okay, move cane left… move right foot forward… and turn my head toward bright lights… How the hell do you manage all this and get where you're going?"

"It's a skill," Pete smirked, "like walking and chewing gum at the same time."

Jim smiled; he could almost hear the blush in Pete's voice when he talked about his girl. He wasn't sure Pete would help when he asked but the young man jumped at the opportunity to assist Detective Dunbar. Pete was so damn confident and motivated and he laid this transformation right at Jim's feet. Jim really didn't think he did that much for the young man, but Pete sure did.

"Dunbar," Jim jumped as Sipowicz approached him, "we'll keep you plugged into the com link from here. Jimmy Posno wants to get outta uniform and he's more than happy to run errands while you're here."

Russo's head shot up, "Dunbar, you're not coming? This might be the big take down, you should be there."

"Not enough room in the van. Besides, John Irvin will be playing the partner to Junior's Pete. You don't need any more distractions. I'll know everything that's gonna go on there and, believe me, you'll get my input."

"Do you mind if I stay here too?" Pete hoped he could stay part of this now that he was involved.

"I got no problem with that if Sergeant Sipowicz doesn't have any. Do you, Andy?"

"Just stay outta the way."

"Can't go far without my cane, can I. Don't break it, Junior or you'll be buying me a graphite one."

Pete and Jim heard Junior grunt with pain as the sound of a moving man hitting immovable object made them both flinch.

"That's not a graphite cane, Pete." Jim whispered, "Its aluminum."

"Yeah, but I don't make a detective's salary, do I. I almost hope he breaks it, I could use a lighter cane."

All too soon the detectives were gone on the stake out, leaving Jim, Andy and Pete in the squad room. The com link relayed the chatter and gossip while the van traveled to the Student Union building. Jim just zoned out the useless noise. Officer Posno was more than happy keep track of conversation, take notes; hell, he even made a decent cup of coffee. Jim was listening to Andy Sipowicz talking to Pete Steckle. Andy was almost gentle with the young man, asking if Pete was learning Braille and life skills.

"Andy, was it a Nam vet? Jim asked out of the blue.

Andy turned to the blind detective, "no, just this kid where I grew up. Nobody paid much attention to him, but we had a common interest; The New York Mets, He would listen to the baseball games on the radio, knew all the stats and thought the world ended when they closed Ebbet's Field."

"Major Mets fan."

"Is there any other team? By that look on your face, you're a Yankees fan."

"Is there any other team? So, he was your friend?"

Andy huffed, "Jack is my friend. He's an accountant, does my taxes every year. When I told him you were coming here he decided to make those transcripts every night. He told me to tell you to keep kicking ass."

"Will do," Jim said, "and tell him thanks."

The com link crackled, "We're here. John and Junior are inside. Hey Jim, Clark plays blind real good, maybe Junior should try acting?"

"He just had a good teacher." Jim laughed. "So now, we wait."

"Yeah, so now we wait."

John Clark kept his hand on John Irvin's elbow, held the white cane awkwardly straight and close to his body and closed his eyes. He haddifficulty trusting John not to bump him into furniture, people or walls andhe fought had against opening his eyes. Joe Osborne was there, chatting and introducing him to people he would never remember five minutes from now. How the hell did people like Pete Steckle and Jim Dunbar manage to get through an hour, let alone the rest of their lives like this?

"Junior," John's voice interrupted his thoughts, "there is a line of protestors outside the room. They're all standing very quietly, holding signs with Bible verses and the usual nastiness."

"Drift over there so I can peek, but be careful. I don't need to get made the anyone."

"Just don't act naturally," John smiled, "so far you're in character."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Slowly the men drifted toward the open doors of the meeting room. Seven men and women were standing silently outside; unsmiling and quiet; they gave the campus police no reason to remove them. Junior tried to keep his head tipped slightly downward and tilted toward noises that attracted his attention the way he had seen Dunbar occasionally do. Junior opened his eyes and scanned the protestors. One tall man stood out, Mark Pederson. The student id photo didn't project the sullen, defeated face that he now wore.

"I wonder how much longer we'll have to stay?" he said softly to John.

"Well, the meeting breaks up in about 15 minutes, then we're been invited to coffee with some of the organizers."

"Coffee sounds good. We'll see if we get followed by our little shadows out there."