Chapter Thirty-Five: Good Shoot

…

This had not been the first time Link had been involved with a shooting, but it did not warm him up to the procedures following it. He understood the need for what was essentially a check on the integrity of the officers involved, but the last time he had spoken to a detective from Watch Conduct, he felt more like a perpetrator in a murder investigation than a cop. His superiors in the East District had tried to assure him that the detective, who was frequently assigned to shootings in the district, was not trying to make it personal. He should have expected to be under some scrutiny back then, and there was very little reason for that to change now.

With their badges gone, Link and Navi had been forced to clock out on the spot. White took them back to headquarters, and he and Navi sat down to write out statements on how the shooting had occurred. Link did his best to avoid speculation that Mr. Thatcher was already a dead man even before they had entered the apartment; the autopsy would have to provide that evidence since Link was only working with intuition, which was not something Watch Conduct liked to hear. Without their badges, Hremorson's murder would have to be paused for one week. Link already hated where that would leave the case; in one week, their trail would be too cold to follow. Navi did not make any mention of this, but Link had a sense that she was fuming as she left the office ahead of him, her hair bright red when she turned out of his sight. Link volleyed back and forth about simply taking the address to Gord's house and trying to speak with them on an informal basis at least. In the end, he decided that he would be better off not trying, knowing that he could be in further trouble if Watch Conduct caught wind of him trying to do some detective work off-the-clock. Besides, anything he heard from them could not be used in the investigation without contaminating whatever case the courts could build.

Not that Link believed the Gord family had any information that would be useful. Perhaps there had been something to check with Highland, especially since there had been some antagonism between Hremorson and the older son. But Gord was almost not even in the picture. Would there be any point in asking? His instincts said no, but his dedication to thoroughness was never satisfied with what his gut told him. He would have to wait until he and Navi could return to work in a week; being the senior officer, it had to be her call, although he was expecting her to still be harboring a strong desire to solve Hremorson's murder.

Link picked up an early dinner of a beef sandwich and crisps before returning to his apartment. He had not written to Mara lately, so, after retrieving paper and a pen, he sat down and started writing a letter between bites.

~~Dear Mara,

~~Sorry I haven't really written to you since I joined Homicide. I know I said I'd let you know what's going on, but we've been a little busy lately.

~~Okay, so, maybe a lot busy. DS Navi and I had a couple cases land in our laps that I just don't know where they're going. Two daughters of noble Houses here in Hyrulia have been killed; one of them was that first case I was telling you about last time. The second one is an associate House to Lord Brettson. She was shot at the Grand High Academy of Hyrule. These two girls have absolutely nothing in common with each other, but I keep feeling this nagging at the back of my head that somehow they're connected. I've gone over notes about them, and we even had a follow-up with the first girl's father. I wish I could tell you what it was that makes me think they're connected, but I really shouldn't. It's an ongoing investigation.

~~I hate to say it, but, probably the only reason I now have time to sit and write to you is because I'm on leave. Earlier today, Navi and I got a call to East District again. Her name was Marie Thatcher, and she was shot point-blank by her husband in the streets. Well, we didn't know it had been him at the time. We went to their apartment to let him know that she'd been killed, and he shot at us through the door. We busted into the apartment, and he charged at us, so—I shot him. I don't know if I killed him or not. He was violent and irrational, and I think he'd eaten a poisoned shroom; I think that's why he shot his wife a few hours before. So, now we're both on paid leave while Watch Conduct investigates.

~~This sucks, Mara. I can't really blame the guy for losing his mind from something he didn't know he did, but we're already falling behind on this second case. We've been going around trying to ask the girl's friends for information, but they're all completely in the dark. It's as if whoever committed these murders picked these girls simply because their families are too nice to have any enemies that wanna hurt them. Well, maybe the first girl. The second girl—she was just such a character, I have to admit, I kinda wish I knew her before she was killed. She had some good friends, the kind that would watch your back no matter what you were doing. And, by the Goddesses, you couldn't give her any bullshit if you expected your nose to remain intact. You would think she'd hurt some feelings, and you'd be right. But it's like she lived in this niche in the universe where, no matter what she did to piss someone off, they're too much of a coward to stand by their crap. I'm there with Navi; I hate that someone killed this girl.

~~I took my detective exam today. Standard stuff; I've given sloppier answers straight from a text book. It'll be a couple weeks before they get back to me, but I'm more or less on-track with my plan. I don't know how long it will take me to get promoted; it seems that merit isn't going to be easy to get if what Wheatland said was right, that Homicide only closes about one in five cases. I'm worried that I'm missing something, but I looked over some of Homicide's case files recently. I have to admit, Homicide's gonna be harder than I thought.

He paused his letter to check the handful of rupees in his pocket. Frowning, he picked the pen up again.

~~Since I'm on leave, I probably won't be talking much about work in my next letter. I'll let you know if anything else happens.

~~Love you, Mara

~~Link

…

Link sent the letter the following morning and used most of his remaining pocket change to buy a few vegetables and a loaf of bread, groceries that would have to last for the next three days until he could pick up his paycheck from headquarters. Not that he was running himself ragged, but some of his salary was being saved for unforeseen situations. With winter slowly approaching, he was considering dipping into his savings to buy an electric heater. Winters in Hyrulia could become harsh depending on whether the winter winds blew in from the southwest across Hyrule Field, which usually carried a slight warmth from the Great Desert on the other side of Lake Hylia, or down over Snowpeak like last year, which covered the city in snow and frigid cold. It was perhaps the only reason Link tolerated his thick uniform: it handled the cold. Other than this, Link spent his time inside looking over his notes on the Hremorson case.

The next morning, Link spent the first half jogging around the block, part of his routine on break to help him keep in shape. He had started this due to chasing Layla, something he was lucky to do to begin with and found he had better maintain since not many others in the district station had that kind of stamina. When he returned, he showered and sat down to a quick breakfast.

As he was sitting down with a case file from one of the organ theft cases Justine had referenced (closed, so he was allowed to borrow the file from the archives), he heard a careful tap on the door. Dressed in a loose-fitting gray shirt and a worn pair of trousers, he stood up and crossed the single-room apartment to answer the door.

And, upon perceiving a clean-pressed uniform, he frowned.

"Constable Link Fieldview?" The man asking had a blond fringe sweeping across his forehead while the rest of his hair was slicked back, revealing that his hair was grown out long enough to be tucked into the collar of his uniform jacket. Link's hair could afford to be a little long because he was a constable (and, to an extent, expected to be a bit of a slob). But between the hairstyle and the crisp uniform, Link did not have to guess which desk division this man belonged to.

Link released the doorknob to let his hand fall and smack his side. "Yeah…" he groaned.

The officer's mouth twitched, which Link thought looked a little strange because it appeared as if he was about to grin. "Detective Inspector Weathers, Watch Conduct," he said. "I'm here to investigate the shooting you were involved in two days ago."

Link sighed and stepped aside. "C'mon in."

Weathers entered and walked until he was standing at the foot of Link's cot. His eyes wandered as Link shut the door. "Homely place," he commented.

"Know three spiders by their first names," Link joked in a dry tone, his accent toned up slightly.

Weathers pointed at the cot and asked, "May I?"

Link shrugged and replied, "S'your ass, sir."

Weathers cracked a smile as he sat. "Yes, I know, let's get the bull out of the way," he told Link in an exasperated tone. "I understand that you and DS Navi were at the victim's apartment to inform him that his wife was dead. So, I guess my first question is why you were handling it instead of Inspector Ironpole. As I understand, he was the superior on the scene; he should have handed the scene to you instead of sending you to notify the next of kin."

"It was a courtesy, sir," Link replied as he moved the only chair in the room to the middle of the floor. He sat and leaned back as he addressed Weathers. "Inspector Ironpole has a disease which affects his spine; he's almost always in pain. Moving around makes the disease worse, so DS Navi and I answered his request that we notify the next of kin."

"Even though you know it was against protocol?" Weathers asked.

"Sir… Inspector Ironpole is a good officer, but he should really be a desk man. He only responded to the scene because the other supervisors were busy elsewhere."

"I take it the East District was your probationary assignment."

Weathers knew better; Watch Conduct officers already knew an officer's record before they made contact. Still, Link understood that showing attitude toward one of them was a fast way to be relieved of an assignment (having witnessed another probationary constable begin and end his career in a single day). So, he answered, "Yes, sir, one of three."

Weathers nodded. "Veeery unusual for a probationary constable," he said.

"I was just tryin' to make myself familiar with the city, sir. I'm not exactly from around here."

"That's a lot more diligence than I have seen from locals who start with the basics. So. Tell me about the shooting."

Link sighed and took a moment to recall events. "When we got to the apartment, I noticed an odor in the air and advised DS Navi."

"DS Navi explained that the odor was mold, and that you had explained that mold is an indication of the presence of chemically-altered mushrooms."

Link tried to keep a neutral look on his face as he answered, "Yes, sir."

"DS Navi also explained that both you and Inspector Ironpole told her about poisoned mushrooms and shared a suspicion that the perpetrator of the street shooting, whom you had not identified at the time, was probably under the effects of a poisoned mushroom."

Link took in a breath, fearing that he was about to be berated for his assumptions. He leaned forward in his seat. "Yes, sir."

"So, you reasoned that the deceased's husband was not only using mushrooms, but was most likely under the effects of a poisoned mushroom when you went to the apartment," Weathers concluded.

"Sir, I felt we needed to be cautious since the smell from Missus Thatcher and the apartment might have indicated mushroom use and that the mushroom user was currently violent. Since we did not know Mister Thatcher's state of mind, we approached the situation with caution."

"Did you identify yourselves?"

"Yes, sir, I shouted through the door. He responded with bullets."

Weathers looked at the door as if remembering something. "We recovered a weapon at the scene. A civilian-model revolver, four-round chamber. There were four bullet holes in the door."

"He fired four times; I counted the shots."

"Even though he should've only had three shots after fatally killing his wife?"

Link frowned. "Sir, if you'd looked at the door, you would have seen four bullet holes with splinters outside of the apartment. Just because he was insane doesn't mean he couldn't reload his gun. I never fired through the door. After I counted four shots, I kicked in the door."

"Did you announce yourself on entry?"

"Yes, sir, I hollered into the apartment. Mister Thatcher charged at me from another room, I saw something metal in his hand, so I fired in self-defense."

"Do you know where you shot him?"

Link paused as he recalled the scene. "I only found one shot near his collarbone, sir." Link pointed on his own body to demonstrate. "I didn't find out about the shot in his chest until Superintendent Wheatland arrived at the scene."

"What happened after you had shot Mister Thatcher?"

Link heaved a sigh. "He fell to the floor, sir. I tried to restrain him and tried to explain that we would help him. He started shaking, so I rolled him onto his back and prepared to induce vomiting."

"How were you planning to induce vomiting?"

"Lower abdominal compressions, sir."

Weathers put on a confused look. "Lower abdominal compressions?"

"It was a study I read a year back. Mushrooms tend to cause gas, so some doctors suggested placing pressure on the intestines to induce vomiting in the event someone consumes poisoned mushrooms. I've seen it only once, but the victim did not survive even after vomiting. It's supposed to be safer than sticking your fingers down their throat."

Weathers' mouth was open to ask about inducing vomiting through the gag reflex. Instead, he asked, "Did you make Mister Thatcher throw up?"

Link shook his head. "No, sir. He seized, rattled, and lost consciousness. I checked his neck for a pulse, but I couldn't find one."

"And you concluded he was dead?"

"Yes, sir."

"What happened next?"

"DS Navi took my gun… Constable White came up in response to the shooting, so DS Navi put her in charge of the scene and ordered me to call the shooting in. Two district officers responded first and isolated us from the scene, then Inspector Ironpole showed up to take command. Then Superintendent Wheatland showed up and relieved us of duty."

"Other than to make the call, did you leave the scene prior to your superior's arrival?"

Link looked down at the floor. "I… knocked on one of the neighbor's doors and asked to use their toilet, sir."

Weathers cocked one, unamused eyebrow. "You couldn't hold it, Constable?"

"Sir, I didn't get a chance to relieve myself before that. We were just returning to headquarters from a witness interview in the Telma District when Wheatland gave us the call." He crossed his arms as he leaned back in the chair. "It's amazin' I didn't pee myself when the shootin' started."

"When did you do this?"

Link sighed and let his arms droop a bit. "After Inspector Ironpole showed up."

"We recovered a kitchen knife in the hallway. Do you know where that came from?"

"That was the metal object Mister Thatcher was holdin'. He tossed it in the hallway when he fell."

"Did either of you handle the knife at any time?"

Link shook his head. "No, sir. Once things settled, we left it there to be recovered."

"And, prior to this, you have had no contact with either Mister or Missus Thatcher before?"

Link frowned. "It's… possible I have, sir. During my district assignment. I think I responded to one or two incidents in that area, home abuse from an argument started over one spouse's mushrooms. I can't say if it might have been the Thatchers, though."

Weathers closed his eyes and appeared to concentrate for a moment. "I saw Mister Thatcher's autopsy before I came here, Constable. That chest shot? The round struck an artery in his chest; the coroner said he would have bled out, but Mister Thatcher's brain was in a poor state when he died. The coroner has officially ruled the death as chemically-induced. The case is being handled by the Altered Suspects division. Did you enter the apartment?"

"No, sir, I never went further past the entryway."

"The suspect had moved the sofa to serve as cover. It seems that, whether it was you or Ironpole, Mister Thatcher was waiting for someone to come knocking on the door. You're right; he reloaded before you showed up. He had a box of ammunition with him; I suspect that, if you hadn't knocked down the door, he would have reloaded again."

Link uncrossed one hand to scratch the side of his head. "I still shot him."

"He was a dead man anyway, Constable; you explained as much to DS Navi. Inspector Ironpole redirected the body wagon he had called after he'd received the call about the shooting. To be blunt, if you'd let Ironpole go, we'd probably have three bodies on our hands."

"And… so, we're not in trouble for that?"

"Constable, a small lapse in procedure isn't a warrant for your arrest. Some rules are about smoothing out wrinkles; switching tasks with Ironpole isn't a big deal. The fact is you've probably responded with procedure in a way that saved both yours and DS Navi's asses. Knocking on the door from one side, announcing yourselves, securing a victim in crisis… sure, things didn't end very well, but it wasn't because of anything you did wrong. Yours and DS Navi's stories more or less match up, both Constable White and Inspector Ironpole have given their own accounts, Mister Thatcher has been identified and processed, and the coroner has made a ruling based on the autopsy. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary."

Link spent half of that monologue blinking stupefied. Then he said, "I hope you won't take this the wrong way, sir, but you're probably the nicest Watch Conduct officer I've ever had to talk to."

Weathers coughed out a laugh. "Well, when was the last time you spoke with one of us? You're not long out of your probation, so I'm guessing it was while you were still working your district assignment in Castlefoot."

Link gave a silent laugh and shook his head. "Boy, you guys don't hide looking through our jackets before you show up…"

"I think you're looking at it from the perspective of a probationary constable, and I admit that some of our guys can be pretty hard on you. But you have to realize that, when it comes to incidents like this, we have to make damn sure that an officer on probation didn't screw up. It's… just another part of the process. When you're new, we want to make sure the new guy didn't mess up. But, I think two years and being past your probation gives us the sign that you know what you're doing. If you didn't, we'd've dropped you before you could get to this point. You, Constable Fieldview, have a jacket that's only a little more colorful than other constables your age. Interesting? Sure, okay. Cause for reprimand? Nah, not at this point."

"Huh. I… guess I hadn't thought of it like that."

"It isn't something you'll hear about right away; we don't exactly let the new guys know. It's about the same as when you went through training. Your instructors probably spent days screaming procedure into your ears, but I guarantee you if you bump into them anywhere else, they'll shake your hand just as they would any other officer."

"So, I'm not in any trouble, then," Link concluded.

Weathers stood up, prompting Link to do the same. "No. It's like everyone else reported: it was a good shoot. It isn't easy for constables to make calls like that, especially ahead of more experienced partners, but it seems that DS Navi might have a few areas she could still use help with. She told me her sense of smell is pretty dull; she didn't notice the mushroom smell until the apartment door was opened and, even then, she couldn't smell it very clearly. But that's just what good partners do: they cover for each other. Personally, I can't wait until you become qualified as a detective; both DS Navi and homicide suspects are going to have a time on their hands."

Link smiled wide as Weathers started for the door. "Thank you, sir."

"Keep up the good work, Constable," Weathers said as he opened the door. "You make a good cop."

"Uh, speaking of work," Link quickly said as Weathers had one foot out of the apartment. "You're calling it a good shoot, right?"

"Yeah?" Weathers said as he turned back to Link, confusion prevalent on his face.

"Would it be possible to end our leave early? DS Navi and I are in the middle of an investigation, and if we stay out for too long, we'll lose suspects and evidence."

Weathers was already shaking his head halfway through Link's statement. "Sorry, Constable, but it doesn't work like that. This is a procedure I can't skip on. Aside from the fact that you aren't the only officers working a detective division that have to take a few days after a good shoot, there's your state of mind to consider. I caught on to that little twinge of regret you had for shooting Mister Thatcher. We give you a week to make sure you can come back in and defend yourself again if you need to. Even if you think you're used to it, I'd still give you the week just because it isn't normal to be used to killing people. Hell, in that case, I'd push for more time. (And maybe a shrink.) But that rule is there for a reason. I'm sorry it has to mess up your case, but what good are you if we don't think you're fine to return to the office?"

Link breathed a sigh out through his nose. "Yes, sir." He shrugged and added, "I had to try."

…

Link went to the city library that afternoon to search through police records (those that were available to the public anyway) in an attempt to find some precedent for overriding the standard leave after an officer-involved shooting. What he got was about a decade's worth of explanations as to why it was necessary, which included instances where officers were killed because they had hesitated to pull weapons on armed suspects after only about three days of leave following a shooting. Three days had been the previous standard; leave had been extended to a whole week after psychiatric experts had looked through the same cases and reported their findings to City Watch's overseers. It was not flawless; Link still found that some officers, even with the week's leave, still died in subsequent shootings due to hesitation. The only reason it stood was that the frequency of officers being shot had been reduced. He could not find any instance where an officer's leave was cut short.

The following morning, Link felt a little more relieved now that the Thatchers' case was off his mind. Of course, there was still Hremorson's case to think about. He realized with amazement that Navi had yet to show up and talk about the case; surely, communication between two officers on leave, as long as it was a case they were working, was not forbidden. Again, he started to wonder if it would be worth it trying to meet the Gord family informally. It would not be hard to go back and re-ask questions just to cover any later discoveries. He decided to sleep on the thought.

Bam bam bam!

"Yikes!" On the verge of drifting off to sleep, Link started and flailed as if he expected to be launched off his bed. His head cleared quickly to establish what had just happened. The knock had been loud, heavy, like someone striking the door with a slab of raw meat. It had not been his landlady's knock; while she could make it loud, the door would not been rattling as hard. And she would only do that to the tenants further down the hallway; Link had yet to be overdue on his rent in spite of his meager salary. DS Navi? No, she came across as a dainty knocker, one of those who would have probably barely tapped with their knuckles and then wondered why no one answered the door before she started hitting harder. Link knew there were a few drunkards around the building, but at nearly ten o'clock in the morning?

Link rolled off the bed onto his feet. "Coming!" he hollered. He briefly considered pulling on his uniform, but he decided that someone knocking like that would likely try breaking down his door if he was not prompt. So, he hustled to the door and pulled it open.

And stood dumbfounded to find Superintendent Wheatland standing in the hallway. "Boss?" he asked.

"Are you busy, Fieldview?" Wheatland asked, his face a business-like frown matching his tone.

"Uh—no, sir," Link replied. He indicated the apartment and said, "C'mon in."

Wheatland shook his head. "Not now, Constable. I'm here on business."

Link took in the seriousness of his tone and, after a moment, said, "Sir, the Watch Conduct officer already ruled the shooting good. I thought."

"I read Weathers' report. I know. This isn't about that."

Link frowned. "What's goin' on, sir?"

"Well, I'm here for a couple things." Wheatland reached into the pocket of his long coat and pulled out a small, wooden box. "First, to drop these off to you."

Link took the box and opened the hinged lid. Inside was a folded sheet of paper. When he took the paper out, his heart skipped a beat upon perceiving a badge resting on a cloth back. He picked it up and turned it over. Stamped in the back was his name.

And underneath that was an imprint depicting a peaked police cap.

"S-sir?" Link asked, looking up at Wheatland.

"Congratulations, Detective Constable Fieldview," Wheatland told him with a grin.

Link's eyes shifted back and forth for a moment. "But… sir, I wasn't supposed to get this for over a week," he said, his voice filled with disbelief.

"Look at the letter."

Link glanced down at the piece of paper in his hand. He set the badge back into the box and tucked it under his arm so he could unfold the letter.

—To: Superintendent Alan Wheatland, Department of Detectives, Homicide Division Chief

—From: Assistant Commissioner Lucas Bherk, Department of Personnel and Training, Chief of Promotions

—I have received your request and reviewed Constable Link Fieldview's service jacket, evaluation, and detective examination responses. I have also looked over the cases you have presented to me as well as your notes on the matter. Before I render my response, I would like to remind you that this is a highly irregular procedure, one that has no precedent within our service one way or another. In a matter such as this, I would normally disregard this request and ask that you express some measure of patience for proper procedure.

—That said, I have the impression that the case you have presented is escalating into a delicate and urgent situation. If you feel that it is imperative that Constable Fieldview be a part of this investigation, there is a precedent which is mostly neglected. Most people know this as a "gut instinct". Just this one time, I will write an order which goes against procedure and smooth out any wrinkles along the way. Understand that, if I ever see your name on correspondence like this again, I will be throwing it into the trash.

—Therefore, it is ordered that Constable Link Fieldview, currently on leave following an officer-involved shooting, is to be restored to duty as of receipt of this letter. It is further ordered that Constable Link Fieldview, having been evaluated and completed a satisfactory detective examination, receive the status of Detective Constable. The official orders will be posted to the appropriate officers in the Department of Personnel and Training once this letter has been sent and postdated to reflect its effect tomorrow. For now, if anyone questions it, this letter will suffice as proof of the order.

—Sincerely,

—Assistant Commissioner Lucas Bherk, Chief of Promotions

"Wait… he can override leave?" Link asked.

"Any assistant commissioner can," Wheatland told him. "I just figured I'd kill two birds with one stone and see if I can fast-track your promotion at the same time." He shrugged and added. "I got lucky. Since I already had your badge, I got it stamped early this morning."

Link's brow only furrowed deeper. "I still don't get it, though. Weathers said it wasn't done."

"Weathers isn't inclined to skip on procedure like that, even if he had the authority. You have to know who to go to, Detective Constable."

"But… why? This can't be for the Hremorson case, right?"

"You're right; it isn't."

Link paused and pondered at the weight in Wheatland's words. Then his eyes became wide. "Are… are you serious, sir?"

"Two days ago, I gave a case of a public shooting in the Castlefoot District to DS Crosswind. The victim's name was Lilian Hollis of House Hollis. One gunshot wound through the chest, fatal. Her autopsy was completed yesterday.

"All of her internal organs, her heart, brain, intestines… they're missing like they were never there."