Warning---for implied sexual violence, in thought.
Alex was eagerly looking over Charley Brigg's shoulder as he pulled the papers containing the fingerprint information from a folder.
"Here you go," he told her. "Hope this helps. Mostly I got smudges and a few partials, but there are a couple of complete ones. Some of them look pretty interesting."
Alex looked them over.
"A couple of these guys have priors? You're right, interesting."
She continued looking over the papers. "I'm going to have to check these guys out."
"Did you notice that one?" Charley pointed to a particular name on the paper.
"J.M. Connelly…is that someone I should know?"
"Only if you're on a first name basis with the Assistant Chief of Detectives."
"J. M. Connelly…Connelly? Oh, shit! That isn't--?"
"None other. His son." Charley was looking pretty proud of himself.
"He's got priors too?" Alex was surprised.
"Yep. For small stuff, mainly drunk and disorderly, a couple of d.u.i.'s. But never spent a night in jail. Heard that his father once got him out of a bigger jam a few years back. Must be nice, huh?"
"Unbelievable." It pissed Alex off, but she was used to hearing about special considerations for certain individuals. "Poor Bobby gets his ass thrown in jail for something he doesn't do, and this jerk does all kinds of crap and never even sees the inside of a cell." She shook her head. "Ah, well, think I'll go and see what I can dig up on these guys."
"Hey, say 'hi' to Bobby for me," Charley called after her. "Tell him we're all pulling for him. And tell him to watch himself."
"Will do. He'll be glad for the support." Alex headed up to the eleventh floor.
Once on the eleventh floor she hooked up Logan and they spent the next hour going over the records of the people on the report.
After a little bit Logan snorted and held one up. "This guy, he's a real piece of work."
"Who's that?" Alex asked, staring at her own file.
"This guy, Jake Connelly."
Alex continued looking at her list. "Yeah, Charley told me about him." She raised her head, as something slowly began to dawn on her.
"What did you call him?"
"Jake. J.M. Connelly, known as Jake. He's one guy I wish I would've punched out. A regular asshole."
"Jake? They call him Jake?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Logan, it's him!"
"Him, who? Eames, you've lost—"
"Jake. The woman at the hotel—she said she thought Wallace called him Jake!"
Logan stared at her for a second. "No kidding? Wanna go have a little chat with this guy?"
"Let's bring him up on the computer first."
Alex punched in the pertinent information, and before long a picture of J.M. (Jake) Connelly appeared.
"Big and blond," Alex said triumphantly. "Just like she said. Let's go have that little chat."
Jake's last known was still at his parents' house, having never lived anywhere long enough to get his own address.
"Is this weird or what?" Logan said, as they walked up the drive to the steps and knocked on the door. "Hopefully the old man doesn't throw our asses in jail, too, just for the hell of it."
As he was finishing his sentence, none other than the Assistant Chief of Detectives opened the door himself, obviously hearing Logan's statement. He stared at them for a minute, then asked, "Something I should know about, Detective? Is there something I should be arresting you for?"
"Uh…no sir. Just—"
"Sir, we've come in regards to your son, Jake," Alex finished.
Now Mrs. Connelly was at the door.
"Is Jake okay?" she asked anxiously.
"As far as we know he's fine, ma'am. We're just here to ask him a few questions concerning a uh, murder that he may have witnessed."
"Jake? I don't think so; he never said a thing about a murder."
No he probably wouldn't; why draw attention to it?
"If you could just let us know where he works or hangs out?" Logan asked.
"Well he works part-time at Webber's service station in Queens, and sometimes he and his friends like to play pool at some of the pubs near there," Mrs. Connelly told them. "Like I said, I doubt he knows anything, but you can try. Good luck, detectives." She more or less brushed them off and went back into the house. Mark Connelly looked at them like he'd seen a ghost.
"Um…are you alright, Sir?" Alex asked.
"Yes, yes, I'm fine. Just the…uh… lingering after effects of a cold. Good day, detectives." Then he was gone also.
"Wow. They were helpful," Logan said disgustedly.
"Well at least we've got a start on Jake."
Once the door was closed, Mrs. Connelly looked with concern at her husband.
"Mark? Mark, what is it?"
"It's…nothing. I'm just not feeling well…" He went upstairs to the bedroom, as his wife watched helplessly. There was definitely something wrong with her husband.
O'Reilly's Pub, QueensEames and Logan covered quite a few bars that afternoon, showing Jake's picture around, before a barmaid finally directed them to the dart boards near the back, where about six men of varying ages and drunkeness were gathered.
"Jake Connelly?" Eames asked.
Jake looked her over. "Who's asking?"
Logan and Eames both held up their badges.
"I'm Detective Eames, this is Detective Logan. We'd like a word with you."
"Yeah, well I'm a little busy right now." He turned back to the dart board and to his waiting, snickering friends.
"What are they, teenagers?" Logan asked in a mocking voice. Then he grabbed Jake by the collar. "We can do it here, or we can do it downtown. Your choice."
Jake's demeanor changed abruptly. "Hey, I'm sorry," he said, trying to wriggle his collar free. "I'm just trying to get in a little downtime, you know, what with job stress, home—"
"Oh, you mean all the stress you get from pumping gas part time at that little dried up station where you work?"
Jake normally would have taken offense, but wisely chose not to. "Well, I know it's nothing like the stress you guys get on your job, but it has its moments." He laughed nervously.
"We still need to ask you a few questions," Alex told him. "That is, if you're not too 'busy'."
"Sure, anything I can do to help. Shoot. Uh, no pun intended." He again laughed nervously at his own joke.
The two detectives apparently didn't think it was too funny, both scowling at him. "Where were you on the night of the 27th?"
"I don't know, who the hell keeps track of that shit?"
"That's it! We're going back to the station—" Logan grabbed him by the collar again.
"No, wait! Just let me think about it for a minute…"
"You're down to thirty seconds," Alex told him.
"Okay, okay, I was probably here."
"Probably? From what time?"
"Um, right after work, I guess, till close."
"Anybody with you?" Logan asked, "Besides these derelicts?"
Jake bristled. "No. Just these guys, and maybe the barkeep."
The detectives looked past Jake to his friends, giving them a hard look.
"Anyone here willing to swear, under oath, that he was here all night?"
Jake's friends all began to back off, making their excuses.
"That's what I thought," Logan said, grabbing Jake by the collar for the third time.
Alex sighed. "Looks like it's back to our place after all."
Jake started to struggle, then suddenly stopped. He had nothing to worry about. He had his Dad to bail him out.
Riker's
Bobby and the guard were in a standoff. His threat had really affected the other man. The guard, Lennie Sanders, was about as big as Bobby, but he had no doubt that Bobby could take him down, and given that it would certainly be a desperate situation, the odds favored Bobby even more. And Bobby had sworn he'd be the first one to he'd take down. Not that it would help the cop any, with the number of guys involved in this, that cop was done for anyway. Sanders was actually looking forward to seeing it, he didn't like Goren anyway. He figured Goren was a typical cocky, arrogant cop, and like any cop, needed to be taken down a few notches. He knew exactly what they'd do to him.
But there was that other part of it. He was supposed to get some big money for setting Goren up, but if he'd never see any of it…shit! He'd still have to go through with it, though, or he might find himself in the same situation as the cop. Plus it's possible he could be implicated in all of this. So he was a loser all around, something else he was familiar with.
And Bobby knew he was still in trouble. It was still just a matter of time, his threat to the guard could only hold them off for so long. Eventually the inmates would demand he be turned over to them, and, under threat for his own life, the guard would comply. Bobby couldn't help but think about what they would do to him, too. He had a pretty good idea, thanks to Sanders, and it wasn't pretty. It'd start with him being sodomized with a broken broomstick, followed by a bone-crushing beating, then being sliced up with a few homemade knives. And then they'd kill him. That's what they'd do to cop, particularly one who'd help send a few of them to this very place. It scared the hell out of him. And there was absolutely nothing he could do; he couldn't get away, not locked up in a cell. He was a sitting duck.
The way Sanders would look at him, pace a bit, then look some more at him gave Bobby reason to think it wasn't far off.
1 Police PlazaAfter arriving back at the squad room, they left Jake in interrogation as Alex, Logan and Deakins watched him from the observation room.
"So you think this mutt's the guy?" Deakins asked.
"I'd bet a week's pay it is." Alex seemed very sure of herself.
"If it is him then we've got a very tough situation," Deakins said grimly. It means it's his father pulling the strings. His father has a lot of influence over a lot of people. And that could be a real problem."
tbc