The Other Path
Chapter 38
Confusion floods Kate's face. "This Connor Mainsail wants you to make Rook more of an action hero?"
"Yeah," Rick confirms. "He said that since Rook threw himself in front of a bullet for Heat, he's been falling down on the job. He wants Rook to kick more ass. I told him that's Heat's jam with Rook lending faithful support. But he didn't buy it. So I promised to see what I could do. Given that I can't write about your squad cases, I'll need to get more creative anyway."
"I've never known you to be short on creativity. But after all that, did Mainsail say he'd try to find a record of the suit Marion tried to file against Joe?"
"He's going to look into it. Actually, he didn't think it would take very long. He should be getting back to me pretty soon, probably before we're close to done digging through the Menkin archives. But we've been at it for hours, and I, for one, could use a little fresh air – or what passes for it in the Big Apple. There's a Nathan's vendor that usually sets up at the corner. We could get a couple of hotdogs."
"Sounds good," Kate accedes.
Rick's wiping mustard from his lips when his phone plays "Country Roads." "Oh, that's Mainsail. Country Roads, West Virginia, see what I did there?"
Kate nods as she swallows the last of her snack. "Yeah. Got it. So are you going to answer that?"
Rick thumbs acceptance. "Connor, did you find something?"
"I always find something," the journalist replies. "That's how I keep getting stuff out there. Marion Menkin did file suit. But the action lasted about two minutes. Judge Jeffries dismissed it immediately."
"Did Jeffries give a reason?" Rick asks.
"Insufficient support for the assertions in her petition. But Marion could have had every supporting document in the world, and it wouldn't have mattered. Judge Jeffries is elected. And it's a very poorly kept secret that Loch funneled money into his campaign. All his rulings point to him being in Loch's pocket. And Loch backed Joe."
"Marion never had a chance, which could drive her toward extra-legal means," Rick speculates. "People have killed for a lot less."
"It's Marion!" Rick declares as he and Kate return to the Homicide Squad's headquarters. "Every indication leads to her."
"Indications, but not evidence," Kate points out. "We have no connection between Marion and a spear. We have nothing that proves she knew Joe's yacht would be in New York. And until we can access her digital records, we can't check to see if she paid anyone to go after Joe."
"So what do we do until the judge lets us at the digital stuff?" Rick questions.
"Finish with the records we have. That's police work. You never know when something will pop up, so you look at everything you can."
"That's the part of police work I have to leave out of my books to keep from putting my readers to sleep." Rick sighs. "But then I won't get to write about this case anyway."
"That's really bothering you, isn't it?" Kate asks.
"It shouldn't be," Rick admits. "I have plenty of material for Heat books, pretty much forever. But ideas always pop into my head when we're working a case together, and it's frustrating to know I won't be able to use them."
Kate lays her head against his shoulder. "Sorry, Babe. Maybe Simmons will loosen up a little when we solve this case."
Rick shrugs. "As a poker player, I wouldn't put much money on it."
"What are you going to watch?" Kate asks as Rick puts a large bowl of popcorn in his lap and turns on the TV.
"I'm going to binge Star Trek."
"The Next Generation? That's always been your thing. You were jazzed for days when Wil Wheaton answered your tweet."
"No, the first generation. I'm going for the original with Captain Kirk in all his girdled glory. It's back to the cowboy classics, well, almost to the classics. There aren't any horses. I'd need the Whedon thing for that. But there are plenty of fistfights and phaser battles."
Kate plops down beside her husband. "In an aggressive mood?"
"Something like that. Normally, I'd be roughing out a story in which someone like Menkin gets his comeuppance and Nikki, with brilliant insights from Rook, solves the case. Or if I was working on a Derrick Storm, he could shoot someone or whack them with a two-by-four. But as things stand at this particular moment, I'm doing neither. So I'll watch Kirk and Spock have all the fun and live vicariously."
"Yeah. I guess as a guy, you can do that. The women in that series were still all big hair and eek eek, strong man save me. Even Uhura came out with, 'Captain, I'm frightened.'"
"Right before the interracial kiss that got them knocked off the air in the South. The show was brave for its time. But if you like kick-ass females, I guess you stay with your beloved Nebula Nine. Or better still, the Whedon thing. Those ladies could defeat any force in the 'verse. Still, my favorite kick-ass female is right next to me." Rick holds out the popcorn bowl. "Want some? Extra butter."
"Yeah, sure. Why not?"
Buck Paulson adjusts his bowtie and checks his hair. He wants to appear perfect – a throwback to a more civil time – before launching his smear campaign against Lynch. The audience must believe that he's the righteous revealer, pulling back the curtain on evil. He'll be so convincing that when the other side tries to claim that Loch and Leitch cooked up the whole thing, his flock won't believe it. In no time, Lynch will have to appoint Phizbin, and the Senate will be firmly back in the right hands. Buck smiles triumphantly at his reflection. The Senate will have the votes, but Buck's the one with the real power.
Melba puts out a plate of Douggie Phizbin's favorite blondies, sets out two glasses and a bottle of Jack Daniels, and turns on the TV. Douggie appreciatively sniffs the scent of the cookie bars and settles into his permanently dented spot on Melba's couch. He rubs his hands together. "This is the big night. Buck's going to tell the whole country what's really going on."
As the countdown on his monitor reaches zero, the assistant director points at Buck. He stares straight into the camera. "Tonight, I'm going to reveal a terrible conspiracy. You all know of the murder of Joe Menkin, our one defense against his party's assault on democracy. But now I'm going to tell you who I think was behind it and why. And I'm also going to tell you what you can do to make sure Joe didn't die in vain."
Douggie reaches for a blondie and, keeping his eyes on the TV, stuffs the whole sweet confection in his mouth.
Melba studies the image on the screen. She knows Buck Paulson – not personally, of course – but his type. At first, they need women like her to build them up, assure them that size doesn't matter. But after a while, they get so wrapped up in their own images that they begin to believe they're some kind of God. Then they forget they ever knew the Melbas of the world. They parade their servile wives and their snot-nosed kids in front of the public until they make the one slip that brings them down. They tell one lie too many, exposing themselves to the world. Then the power, the wife, and kids are gone, and they need a Melba again to assure them they're still men. But she and her sisters in the game have moved on to newer, better-behaved partners.
Douggie is unspoiled like that. He's the kid who was mercilessly teased on the schoolyard and kowtows to anyone who convinces him he'll be the big cheese someday. So right now, Douggie needs Melba. But if Paulson succeeds, he may start to believe he's the man inspiring the acclaim. It may be worth having someone in the wings for when that day comes.
Douggie is strangely quiet. Melba looks at him to see how much of Paulson's rant he's buying. Damn! He couldn't have gone to sleep. Is he breathing? She listens at his mouth and nose. Not a thing. Sh*t! The last thing she needs is some dead politician in her apartment. But he's too f**king fat to move by herself. Well, she can call some members of the sisterhood to help. All they'll have to do is get him in a car and dump him somewhere along the road. The cops will find him eventually. Too bad Melba didn't have time to line up her next guy. But it won't take her long to find one.
