Season 4, after "Dial M for Mayor"
I am dedicated this story to two important people in my life.
My sister from another mother who has saved the world more times than I can remember and always has a spare moment for bizarre questions. Lacey.
My law enforcement nephew whose help and advice has been instrumental in putting together these stories. You are my crime scene glitter, Jimmy!
Chapter 1
The Midtown Terrace Corporate Event center was filled to the brink on that rainy evening, holding high ranking police personnel from the entire state of New York.
Not a single person bore less than two stars on their uniform; several of them proudly carrying five, some even eight stripes on their sleeves.
It was a night filled with accolades, light hors d'oeuvres and expensive champagne that marked the annual Police Leadership Convention. Seventeen years in the making, the event provided a way for high ranking officers to share ideas and experiences with departments across the state, discuss incident protocols and honor lives lost in the line of duty.
As usual for the event, Mayor Weldon was expected to show face and hold a brief speech highlighting the positive influence New York's Finest have had over the year, before handing the mic over to Police Commissioner Jon Francis who would announce several much-deserved promotions.
The elegant main room featured eight hand-crafted chandeliers that lit up several dozen finely decorated tables, each one filled with officers from a specific part of the state. A side room with an open bar covered the overflow of visitors while the easily accessible balcony overlooked the Empire State Building and 5th Avenue.
Deputy Chief Gleason from the Brooklyn Borough was nervously fidgeting with the wedding band on his ring finger, his eyes traveling to the overhead TV monitors that were replaying the same sequence of tributes and event info; then over to the speaker podium that sat empty while a group of waiters cleared the dishes.
One table over, a group from Schenectady was laughing about a joke that wasn't funny the first time he'd heard it; and yet it kept making the rounds that evening.
Near the back door by the catering carts, he noticed a black server and a female bar tender share a kiss behind the royal blue curtains, as if a room full of seasoned police officers wouldn't be completely aware of everything that was happening around them.
Gleason chuckled inwardly and shook his head before Assistant Chief Frederickson, a pale, hollow-cheeked man in his mid-fifties who'd been the right hand to Chief Brady over the past five years approached his table. Many could argue that there had been more experienced or educated candidates to choose from at the time, but none of them were as loyal or gritty as Frederickson.
With a brief nod, he sat down across from Gleason and ran a hand down his black tie before awkwardly checking all the buttons on his dress jacket as if to make sure every bit of his appearance was flawless.
"Newton is in back, checking out the open bar…", Gleason mumbled, feigning indifference to see if he could coax a reaction out of his conversation partner.
As usual, Frederickson acknowledged his remark with a subtle raise of the eyebrow, a deceiving reaction for a guy whose fiery temper had gotten him in trouble during his early years on the force.
"I think it's the bartender he is checking out.", the other man finally said and leaned back in his chair, drawing in a ragged breath as he watched Mayor Weldon enter the room.
The slim man with the charming smile barely made it in before a cluster of people formed around him, all of them shaking his hand, sharing a few words to commemorate the year, then allow for the next person to take their spot.
It was a tiring display that repeated itself event after event, as far as Gleason was concerned. Nonetheless, the people seemed to consider him a fitting candidate every four years, so who was he to argue?
"Drew Harris is retiring this year.", he added, hoping to bridge the awkward silence, "I wonder who will replace him. Hoboken will never be the same without his leadership."
"His leadership could have lasted a lot longer if he would have stayed away from the bottle while he was on the job.", Frederickson fired back and eyed him intently, as if to make sure they shared the same sentiment.
"The man had his faults but damn he had a fan club too."
"Fan clubs don't matter much in the long run, Gleason.", came the stern reply, "We're not here to be everyone's friend. We're enforcing the law."
"Oh for God's sake Walt, open that collar a bit, you're starting to sound stuffy…", he fired back, his voice raised just enough that the Schenectady table glanced over at them briefly.
He could see the other man's hollow cheeks redden as he prepared for a fitting rebuttal. As his lips parted, a deafening noise shook the entire building, followed by a roar of blood-curdling screams.