The next morning, the bullpen was overflowing with people. Amongst the usual assortment of detectives were a dozen or more civilians, their attire suggesting prolonged time out on the streets, some of them standing in groups, others confined in the adjacent interrogation rooms.
And yet, all of them were handcuffed.
"What in the world is going on here?", Mike muttered, making room for his limping partner to enter the frenzied Homicide office, while trying to identify which one of his men could provide a satisfactory answer.
In the end, it was a visibly agitated Sekulovich who walked up to them, a thick file under his arm and a look of utter helplessness in his dark brown eyes.
"Lieutenant, the black and whites brought them in. Apparently there was a brawl down Devisadero. Different groups of homeless people going after each other in some sort of revenge thing. They mentioned Reverend Joe so the guys downstairs thought you might want to talk to them."
"I recognize the lady over there. Tanner and I came across her…and her group…", Steve cut in and pointed his chin toward an unkempt woman sitting in the chair by his desk, one side of her face drooping.
"She's the one who claimed she'd start a war to avenge Reverend Joe's murder?"
"You better believe it."
"Then you go talk to her, Buddy Boy. I will see what I can find out."
With a faint nod, Steve started toward her, taking his time getting to his desk and finally acknowledged the woman as he grabbed a cup of coffee for her.
Mike watched him for a brief moment, studying his partner's body language as he sat down, reintroduced himself and patiently waiting for the woman to finish venting, before beginning the interview.
"Art, my friend, looks like we have a lot of talking to do…", the Lieutenant then said and let his eyes drift across the bullpen full of aggravated homeless people staring at him.
With a sympathetic slap on the arm, Sekulovich smiled and pointed toward the nearby hallway.
"This is barely half of them, Mike. The rest is lodged in the jail downstairs."
# # #
"Now why did you start the fight? I asked you to let us do our jobs."
Steve's words remained mostly ignored as the woman seated across from him glared at a disheveled man in his mid-forties being escorted to a nearby interrogation room, presumably her arch nemesis.
Deciding to continue undisturbed, the young Inspector took a sip of coffee, before gesturing toward the thick R&I file in front of his visitor.
"You've already been booked multiple times for possession, B & E's and some petty theft. You keep causing trouble like that, and they're going to start throwing the book at you."
His latest remark finally earned him a reaction in the form of a chuckle, when she looked him up and down, before shaking her head.
"Whose idea was it to let you play hardball with me, sweet cheeks? I am twice your age, and I won't even bring up street smarts. Use your big words all day long, but they're not impressing me."
Clenching his jaws at the uphill battle starting off an equally difficult day, Steve let his eyes drift over the bullpen, appreciating the methodical way with which Mike had begun to divide up all his available detectives to interview the large group of people in hopes of gathering more information on their murder victim and his illusive protégé.
"We want to solve this murder case as much as you do. But it's gotta be done by the book. You can't just run across town and pick fights with everyone you suspect of killing Reverend Joe…Sandy."
He'd added her first name in hopes of bridging some of the animosity and patronizing bestowed upon his person early that morning, a strategy that seemed to pay off somewhat when the woman glanced up at him, her stern expression softening.
"Your ways take forever. I know damn well that Rafael did it. Give me five minutes with him and I will make sure he can never kill anyone again…ever."
"And you will end up in prison for the rest of your life on a murder one charge…", Steve countered, the pitch in his voice rising slightly, "Why don't we choose a different path and do things by the book. Let's start at the beginning. What is this Rafael's full name, where do you know him from and why do you believe he may have killed Reverend Joe?"
"Rafael is slime…", Sandy countered sneeringly and reached up to itch her scalp with her cuffed hands, "He makes a habit out of beating up homeless people…stealing their stuff, what little money they have, their drugs…he's scum."
"And what's this scum's last name…", he continued patiently and reached for the black notebook in the breast pocket of his grey dress coat.
"Hernandez. He hangs out up by the wharf a lot. He and his group of thugs used to wait for Reverend Joe to put on one of his charity events and then try to rob him before he could donate the proceeds. That's probably how he ended up killing him. Just for the damn money."
Her statement, the first potential lead for a motive, piqued Steve's interest, and he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, to look her in the eyes.
"How many times had he done this already, do you know?"
"Many times…", Sandy answered in sheer disgust, "He never gets caught though. It's not like…our kind would call the cops on him. Even if we did, who'd believe us, hm? You, kid? So, he gets away with it."
Unable to stop himself from staring over at the Hispanic man in question, currently being interviewed by Lessing, Steve decided on a different approach, hoping it would bring them both, a positive ID and with it, possibly a case break.
"Tell you what…", he said, keeping his voice unreadable, "I am willing to dig into this matter for you, see what we can do to hold him. But only if you can go through a few books of mugshots for me and identify Reverend Joe."
