Meet the New Boss

Chapter 5

Karen hung up the phone. Automatically, she turned to her right and started to speak. Then she saw Jim's empty desk and remembered his sudden transfer, two days before. Shit. It was bad enough that Jim was gone. But his departure also meant she was without a partner again, just as she'd been before he showed up at the 8. She did not want to go back to tagging along with Marty and Tom. But she couldn't face breaking in a new partner, either. She noticed Marty looking at her thoughtfully, and her face reddened in embarrassment.

"Not the same, is it, kid?" he asked gently.

She shook her head. "Don't tell me you miss him, too," she said.

"Sure I do," Marty told her. "Who am I gonna razz now?"

"Oh, I don't know – me?"

"Nah, I wouldn't kick you when you're down."

Fisk hung up his phone and emerged from his office. "That was the chief's office," he said, sitting on the desk opposite Jim's vacant desk. "They're sending us a new detective." He consulted the slip of paper in his hand. " – a Nate Campbell. Marty, you ride with him."

"But, boss – " Marty protested.

"I don't want to hear it," Fisk cut him off. "This is his first assignment since being promoted to detective. You're the senior detective here, I need you to show him the ropes."

Marty groaned. "He's just been promoted? And they're assigning him to a homicide squad? Jeez."

Fisk gave him a resigned look. "You got a beef, take it up with Chief Tunney. And don't take it out on Campbell," he ordered, "it's not his fault." He went back to his office, closing the door behind him.

A half hour later, a stocky, round-faced man with thinning sandy hair came into the squad room and asked for Fisk. Tom directed him to Fisk's office. Noticing his new-looking dark gray suit and guessing he was the new member of the squad, Karen studied him as he walked across the room. He looked about thirty, young for a detective, but he moved as if he could handle himself. A few minutes later, he and Fisk came out of the office. The lieutenant introduced the newcomer. "Nate Campbell, Karen Bettancourt, Marty Russo, Tom Selway," he said, indicating each of them in turn.

After Fisk returned to his office, Campbell stood next to the door, looking around. "Is there an empty desk?" he asked.

"These two," Marty replied, indicating Jim's desk and the one opposite it. Campbell headed toward Jim's desk, but Karen stopped him.

"No, not that one," she said sharply. "Take that one," she ordered him, indicating the desk opposite Jim's.

"What?" Marty asked with a sardonic grin. "You planning to build a shrine to Dunbar there?" He nodded toward Jim's desk.

"No, 'course not," Karen muttered, embarrassed. She turned to Campbell. "Take either one, it doesn't matter."

Confused, Campbell retreated to the desk opposite Jim's and sat down. Karen glared at Marty for a moment, then stood up and stalked out of the squad room. Tom watched her go, then told Marty, keeping his voice low, "You better do something, man." Marty stood up and followed Karen.

He found her in the locker room, staring out the window. "Listen, Karen, I'm sorry," he began, "it was a joke."

She turned around and gave him a reproachful look. "Well, it wasn't funny," she said coldly. "This whole situation stinks."

"Yeah, it does."

"If you ask me, it's a set-up," she continued. "They knew they couldn't get rid of Jim as long as he was here, clearing cases, so they pulled him out of here."

"I know."

"You know what really pisses me off?" she asked.

"What's that?"

"Jim would never let on in front of you guys – I mean, he always tried to make it look easy – but it was really hard for him, you know, doing his job. He never said anything, but I could tell sometimes, watching him. It really pisses me off to see them screwing with him like this, after he worked so hard."

"Yeah," Marty agreed, looking thoughtful. Karen was right. Jim had made it easy for them not to think about what he had to do every day to cope with his blindness. Not that Marty was complaining about it. He changed the subject. "So what d'you want to do about it?" he asked.

"I don't know. What can we do, anyway?"

"Maybe, if we find out who's behind it – "

"Yeah," Karen agreed, "but the only ones we know about are this Captain Greene and Lieutenant Krause."

"How about I check out Greene and you look into Krause?"

"OK," Karen said, looking a little surprised. "You'd do that?" she asked, "I mean, you and Jim – "

"Yeah, I know," Marty interrupted her, "but I don't want to see him get screwed over any more than you do. Besides, look who they sent to replace him. Didn't I say they'd send us someone worse than a blind guy?" He gave her an encouraging grin. "C'mon, let's get to work."

Krause emerged from his office when Nichols and Bartkowski walked out of the interview room, where they had been questioning Curtis Young's girlfriend, Lavinia Jackson. Nichols threw his legal pad onto his desk in disgust, then told Krause, "She's not backing off her statement that Curtis was with her at the time of the shooting. I know she's lying, but – "

Bartkowski spoke up, "We'll give her an hour or so, then take another crack at her."

Krause nodded. "OK."

Jim decided to speak up. "I've been thinking – about Lavinia, that is – and I've got an idea. . . ."

Krause lit into him. "You deaf, too, Dunbar?" he demanded. "I told you, you are not working this case. We can clear this case without your help."

Without thinking, Jim snapped back, "Yeah, I know how you clear cases."

Krause glared at him, to no effect. "By the way, Dunbar, I ran into your old boss this morning. I've never seen the big guy so happy. When he saw me, he said he was sorry I had to inherit his problem, but two years was long enough for him, it was someone else's turn now." He stared triumphantly at Jim. When Jim didn't respond, Krause announced, "I'm going to lunch. Nichols, Morris, walk with me."

As soon as their footsteps faded, Jim stood up and headed for the locker room. It was all he could do to stay in control. And he was shaken by what Krause had said about Fisk. Had Fisk really been happy to see him go? Fisk never hesitated to let Jim know when he was out of line, but Jim had been certain – until now – that he had earned Fisk's respect and support. He didn't believe – didn't want to believe – Fisk could be that two-faced. Besides, he reminded himself, Krause was an accomplished liar. Surely he was lying now.

When Bartkowski was sure Krause and the two detectives were gone, he followed Jim to the locker room. He found him standing next to the coffemaker, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Jim – " he began. Jim started. "Uh, sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"Not a problem."

"What you said, a minute ago," Bartkowski began tentatively, "about the way the boss clears cases – what did you mean by that?"

"Ancient history. Forget it." Jim waved a hand dismissively.

"OK," Bartkowski said doubtfully. "Listen, we're getting nowhere with Lavinia. I don't care what the boss says, we could use some help in getting her to come off her alibi for Curtis."

Jim thought for a moment, biting his lip. "You know Lavinia's on probation, right?" Bartkowski nodded automatically, forgetting that Jim couldn't see him. "And she has a search condition?"

"Yeah, but we searched her when we brought her in."

"Not her – her apartment," Jim corrected him. "I was thinking, if she's been hanging with Curtis, the odds are pretty good that we'll find drugs in her apartment."

"Probably," Bartkowski agreed.

"If there are drugs in her apartment, it's a probation violation. She violates probation, she stands a good chance of going to prison."

"Yeah, but she's scared of Curtis – he's already knocked her around, I can tell. I'm guessing she's more scared of him than going to prison."

"But she's a mom, right – two little kids?"

"Yeah," Bartkowski said, seeing where Jim was going. "You think she'll choose them over Curtis?"

"Yeah. She goes to prison, the kids end up in foster care. What are her chances of getting them back?"

"That just might work," Bartkowski mused. "Thanks." He turned to walk away.

"No problem." After he heard the door close behind Bartkowski, Jim reached out with his hand to find the wall, then leaned against it, thinking. He knew he could make this work, just as he had at the 8, if given the chance. But he also knew Krause would make sure he didn't get that chance. He had to find a way out of the 4-0. He just didn't know how. In a weak moment, he'd called his lawyer to ask if there was anything he could do, legally. The answer wasn't encouraging. A judge was unlikely to second-guess the Department's decision to transfer him, as long as they didn't take away his "reasonable accommodations" and they lived up to the agreement they'd signed when he was reinstated. And anything his lawyer could do would take time – too much time. Jim sighed and squared his shoulders, then followed Bartkowski back to the squad room. He'd find a way out of this. He had to.