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Flack's Discovery
"How do ya want to do this boss?" Martinez asked Flack as they climbed the filthy stairs to the fifth floor apartment.
"We'll make it civil unless Lopez has other ideas." Flack said, checking the clip in his gun as they walked down the hallway.
A small child, no more then six, played outside the door marked 510. "Where's your mama?" Flack asked.
"She's playing with Uncle John. I have to stay out here." He said in a petulant tone.
Flack took in the child's dirty face, his short curly black hair and the broken toy car he played with while rats and cockroaches had their run of the place. He wanted to knock on the door, but the thin walls couldn't hide the sounds of vigorous sex.
"What's your name?" He asked the kid.
"Mama said not to talk to strangers." The kid said.
Flack smiled despite the smell of urine, old and spoiled food and body odors. The stench of sex and marijuana smoke layered in with the other smells, creating a miasma that would have made him gag had he not experienced dead and rotting flesh. "I'm a police officer." He pulled out his badge and showed it to the little boy.
"My mama said not to talk to pig cops." He said in a parroting tone.
Flack chuckled. "How long has your Uncle John been visiting?"
"He'll go away soon and then another Uncle John will visit." The child said.
Martinez raised his eyebrows at Flack. "Here," Flack said giving the kid a dollar bill. "Buy yourself some candy."
"Hey thanks mister." His eyes lit up and he headed for the stairs.
"When we're done here, I'm going to check into who lives in 510 and call social services." Flack said to his officers. "Let's go talk to Lopez."
Flack glanced back at the door to 510, with a deep scowl on his face. How would people do things like that to kids? He wondered if Lucy were okay for the tenth time that hour. How could it be the 21st century and people still treated each other in such terrible ways? He shook his head and followed Martinez and Cooper down the hall to its end. The two hulking cops were the biggest ex military men at One Police Plaza. They'd been more then happy to play intimidation with Flack.
Flack pounded on 517, "Lopez, NYPD open up." He shouted through the door.
All up and down the hallway, every sound cut off except for the cries coming from 510. Apparently, cops in the hallway didn't matter to a prostitute and her company.
You gotta love New York!
The door stayed firmly closed in his face, not that he had expected more, but he pounded harder on it and yelled as he pulled his gun out of his holster. "Open up Lopez…"
He listened hard, but nothing happened. "He doesn't want to talk to you," said a voice to Flack's left.
"Who are you?" Cooper said to the short, fat black haired woman standing in the doorway of the next apartment.
"Some guy was here a couple of hours ago," She said swaying on her feet.
"Are you high?" Flack asked, pointing his gun at the floor.
"High on life," she tittered. "Get lost pig." She sneered.
"You better tell me what you saw, or I'll take you in?" Flack asked.
She swore creatively at him, "I didn't see nothing but this other white dude. He went inside and they screamed at each other for a while. Then it was real quite. I didn't see nothing after that. I know when to mind my business."
"I can see that." Flack said testily. "What did the man you saw look like?"
"I dunno he was white, kinda short, and stocky with short brown hair. He had that look." She said knowingly.
"I seen him," said the small boy Flack had talked to. He'd returned from the candy store with a pack of gum in his hands.
"Shut up Jamal…" said the black haired woman, "or I'll tell your mama you've been talking to cops."
"You keep your mouth shut." Flack said, "I can order a drug search of your place… You want that?"
The woman went back into her apartment slamming the door and yelling very creative suggestions to Flack for his self-gratification.
"You make friends wherever you go," Cooper said with a grin.
"It's a natural talent," Flack deadpanned. "So Jamal… What did you see?" He put his hands on his knees and leaned down to the kid.
"The guy came out of the room. He said the cops would be here and to tell them he says hi to the mess man."
"Mess man," Martinez said in confusion.
"Messer," Flack said through gritted teeth as anger seethed behind his eyes.
"Yeah," Jamal agreed, "Messer…" He said proudly.
"Jamal," Flack laid a kind hand on the kid's shoulder. "Did he say anything else to you?"
"No, but he had a knife in his hand when he came out of that door. It had blood on it." He pointed to 517. "He was scary so I ran into my place even though mamma was playing with Uncle John again."
"That was a very smart thing to do kid."
"I bought some gum." He held it out to Flack. "Want some?"
"No thank you, I have to go see Lopez now." Flack said.
"We can't just knock down the door." Martinez said.
"I'm pretty sure the guy here to see Lopez was Shane Casey. You see how thin the walls are and how people never mind their own business."
"We don't got probable cause or any indication that Lopez is even here." Cooper said.
"That's why I'm calling in a favor and getting a warrant." Flack pulled out his phone.
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Judge Victor Reus didn't suffer fools or nonsense in his courtroom or his chambers. His routine consisted of arriving every morning at sharp 0730 hours. His court started on time at 0830 hours or he knew the reason why not. He left the office at exactly 1800 hours without exception. No one delaying him past that hour did it twice. It was 1750 hours when the ex-military man turned lawyer then Judge received a call from Detective Donald Flack.
"Detective… What can I do for you?"
"I'm sorry to call you so late, your honor, but I need a warrant for the home of Juan Ricardo Lopez."
"You better have something solid Detective. Lopez's has wormed his way out of trouble one too many times for my taste."
"I believe he had Shane Casey as a guest in his apartment. He doesn't answer his door and a witness claims to have seen him leaving the apartment with a knife."
"Who's your witness Detective?"
"His name is Jamal; he's a child that lives in this apartment building."
The Judge didn't say anything for a long minute. "You want me to sign a search warrant on the basis of the word of child. At least tell me you questioned him in the presence of a parent or guardian?"
"No sir, his mother was entertaining company at the time if you take my meaning."
The judge blew out an explosive breath. "What else do you have Flack?" His tone raised a couple of notches.
"We have a John Doe found in the same bar where Ian Casey killed the bar tender. We believe Shane Casey is involved because he left us another strange clue the points to Detectives Messer and Monroe and their daughter Lucy. We discovered that they did time together in the same cellblock in Pennsylvania. We need to talk to him about his connections to human trafficking to Cuba. We believe Lucy may have been sent to Cuba?"
"You're skating on thin ice Detective. This better lead to putting the cuffs on Lopez, and getting Casey off the street, or your badge is in question. Have I made myself clear?"
"Yes sir…" Flack hung up the phone with a sigh.
"I take it we got our warrant," Cooper asked.
"Oh yeah, but my ass is in a sling if this goes bad." Flack said.
"Come on Flack, you're the hot shot detective that brought down most of the Irish mob in this town. You can do no wrong."
"I'm not untouchable," Flack grumbled. "Oh well, if he busts me down to street cop, I have you for friends."
The two large men grinned at each other. Cooper rubbed his huge hands together. "I think we'll find something for the new guy to do."
"That's hilarious Cooper. I'll remember that when I keep my gold shield."
The uniforms laughed. "You don't scare us Flack," Martinez said good-naturedly.
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Half an hour later Flack was poised in front of Lopez's apartment. Mac had brought the faxed copy of the warrant personally. They knocked once more even though no one had come near the door for over an hour. "NYPD Lopez, open up!" Flack shouted as he banged his fist on the door.
He stood back when no one answered and let Cooper go through the door with Martinez behind him. The sight in front of them made Mac and Flack stop dead in their tracks. Trash lay strewn around the stained and pitted carpet. The smell of rotting food scattered on the creaky wooden coffee table that stood in front of a mold-green and brown-checkered couch. Dust lay several inches thick over the unused bookcase and the entertainment system.
The small filthy room had a kitchen separation in one corner of the room with dishes stacked in the sink and on the small table. The most dramatic feature in the room that claimed their complete attention, was the body lying in the middle of the room. His body lay with his arms splayed over his head. A rather large hole dominated his abdomen.
Blood splattered the filthy carpet, the television and the coffee table. The crimson liquid covered most of the body with the exception of his arms and legs.
"Look at this," Mac pointed at a photograph near the body.
Flack looked down, his jaw clenching so hard he felt the teeth on the left side of his mouth grinding together. "Danny's gonna lose it."
"Make sure he doesn't hear about this, not yet." Mac commanded. "I don't want this getting out to the press. Everything is need to know from now on. I see this on the news and someone will be pounding the beat so fast their head will spin. Is that clear?"
"You don't gotta tell me twice Mac. It's a good thing this son of a bitch is dead."
"Don't lose your temper Don… I need your head in the game." Mac said as he began taking pictures of the scene.
"I got my head in the game. Just give me something to work with on this Mac."
"Call Agent Hotchner and Dr. Reid, we need them here. I want them to see the photograph in this context."
"You got it Mac."