Problems in the Ponderosas Ch. 04

A hand grabbed my left shoulder as a voice in my ear asked, "You okay, kid?"

I turned to look into the eyes of Sam Pierce from the third precinct. "Yeah, I'm fine, Sam. Sort of shaky, though, now that it's over. Here, have a shotgun." I handed it to him and stood up, a little surprised to find that I had been kneeling when I shot that last robber. Two more ambulances were approaching. I could hear their sirens, slightly lower pitched than the ones on police vehicles. And then there were sounds of more feet, as I don't know how many men in blue uniforms flooded into the area in front of the bank. Aaron came up on my right side. "Kid, that was some shootin'. Three perps, three shots, three bodies. I'm gonna love to write up that report.

Behind me I heard the booming voice of Sid Schwartz saying, "Hey, Aaron, when you get sick of puttin' up with that rookie, he can ride with me any time." Finally I wiggled my hips enough to get the stiffness out of my midsection and I took a deep breath and leaned back against what was supposed to be the getaway car.

Harvey Brown from the second precinct came up from where he had parked down the street. "This kid deserves a medal and a big kiss from Aaron's wife. I had a good view of it all, and that last guy was determined to make her a widow. Aaron, you got a lotta guts to stick with it like that. You guys are somethin' else, lemme tell you! All you needed to make this a TV western shootout is a saloon where the bank is."

Aaron was shaking his hand. "My gun got so hot that I burned my hand puttin' it back in the holster."

Somebody walking up on my left side said, "That gun saved us all from gettin' shot. Holster be damned. It ought to go up on the wall."

Then in the distance I heard another siren, droning in the clear stretches and warbling at the intersections. The car came to a stop at the end of the block and the siren shut off abruptly as car doors slammed. And then there were two pairs of women's feet, running toward me. Val got to me first, and threw her arms around my neck. "Oh, thank God you're all right. We heard all the cars calling in about you and Aaron and the ambulance driver, and I wasn't sure you weren't wounded until I got right up to you." Then Bobby was there, her hand on Aaron's shoulder.

"I straightened up and said, "Look. I had the shotgun and I shot the three guys with it. That's what we carry it for. But Aaron was the real hero of this piece, keeping that last guy pinned down with pistol fire so he couldn't get off a decent shot at any of us. These robbers were tough. Any normal guy would just give up, with their getaway car wedged in like this, and half the cops in the city showing up. But they were ready to take us all down with them. We all owe Aaron a great big thank you for saving us from getting shot. Ask Harvey, he saw it all."

Bobby said, "You all deserve our thanks. You got to a shootout and you went into danger, not away. You were all here to support each other. No cowards in this bunch. When you all get your reports in, I'll go over them with your commanders, and we'll issue a joint commendation that will go into all your files, and to the news services, too. And speaking of the news services, here they come!" I looked around and saw the three vans from the TV stations, with their masts extended, and then reporters with microphones and cameramen with hand held minicams came jogging toward us.

Later Aaron and I were back at the station house finishing up our reports when Val came in. I stopped what I was doing and gave her my full attention. "We got separated at the crime scene and I didn't see you any more. Where'd you go?"

"Well, when the shootout started I was over at the Woodside school. I had just come out after reviewing their evacuation plan and their security package. I had my own car there, and I was on the sidewalk in front of the school when Bobby came by with her siren screaming. She opened the passenger door and yelled, 'Get in, quick,' and away we went. Then I started to find out what was happening as we were on our way. She just said, 'Big shootout downtown,' and I was getting the rest of it from the radio. Oh, Ken, I was so scared. Tonight on the way home let's pick up some takeout stuff for supper so we can sit and hold each other all night. But to finish the story, back at the crime scene, Bobby said, 'Let's go,' and she took me back to get my car, which was nice of her. But of course, it meant that I had to leave when she left, and she didn't hang around long after the robbery boys took over."

"Val, you would have been proud of me, the way I drove to get there. Big U turn in the middle of the block for a start. It was almost as good as you can do it. Whizzing around cars, sliding around corners, all sorts of hotshot driving. Wish you'd been there to watch. And advise. Aaron's knuckles were white. I bet he embossed his fingerprints right into the padding on the dashboard." I flashed back to the picture of him keeping the robber's head down. "Let me tell you, old Aaron can really shoot. Brave? Must have ice water in his veins."

That evening, Val and I were sitting on the sofa. The TV was on but we weren't paying any attention to it, just the way we used to do, back before she moved in with me. We'd eaten our supper right there on the sofa, and the take out containers were still on the coffee table. About eight the doorbell rang, and I put on the porch light, picked up my pistol, and looked through the peephole. It was Bobby! I opened the door and let her in, and she started to apologize for barging in on us like this. Val offered her a beer, and when she accepted I went and got three cans. Then, settled down with our brews, we waited to hear what brought her out at this time of night.

"Ken, I didn't get to go through my mail at work, what with the interruption of the shootout and all the reports on it, so I grabbed it up and took it home with me. This was in it. What's going on?"

The "this" that she handed me was a memo from Terry Gardner. The body of it read, "Since Officer Ken Walters is currently being investigated for possible involvement in a federal crime, it would be inappropriate to allow him to participate as a member of the Personal Protection Squad. Please terminate his membership in that squad immediately."

"Well, that says that Terry is willing to get away from pointed questions and come out with what's on his mind. He had me in his office yesterday and asked me about the investigation into his background. I told him that there had been a bunch of questions about his suitability to lead the squad, and that we had picked up a rumor that he had done well in DC and OC, and that he was going to go through the training with us, which seemed to satisfy everybody who'd been asking questions.

"Then he asked about the FBI investigating me for the switch of Hatfield for McCoy, and I told him that I was one of many who were being investigated, but that it was just something the FBI had to do, since we weren't feds, and I wasn't even a cop at the time.

"Finally he asked me about my dealings with Mueller, and I politely told him that Mueller is an asshole, but not in those words.

"I suspected that he was trying to pressure me to quit the squad, and I told him that I wouldn't, and if he wanted me off it he should send you a written request. So I'd say that so far, he's doing just what I hoped he'd do. To use an old country expression, he's just put both feet in a pile of manure, and I can't wait to see how he'll try to pull them out."

"So what do I do now?"

"Get a list of all the people the FBI is supposed to investigate as part of scenario G. There ought to be a dozen names, I guess, and probably all but one or two of our precinct's personal protection picks are on it. Val is, I know that. It's everybody who was out in the woods that day. I bet you're on it. And Harry and Hank and Bruce. Ask Terry in writing what he wants to do with all the other people on the FBI list who are on the personal protection roster, or maybe tell him that you can't remove one of the names without the rest, because that would be showing harassment and favoritism, in violation of article blah, blah, blah.

"Then list the people who were at the shootout today, and distinguished themselves by valor under fire. Ask him about the people who were in on the shootout and are also on the FBI list, and if you should make public the fact that they are being removed from personal protection in spite of their exemplary performance. Include a copy of the front page newspaper story.

"Then sit back and wait for the next move."

"Ken, what's going on?"

"I don't know, but I think somebody's playing Terry for a patsy. And I'm willing to bet that it has to do with Mueller, since Terry is being fed info about me, and nobody else. So if we handle this right, and if Terry is smart, he'll figure out that he's being used and he'll step aside. If not, then maybe Terry is the problem.

"If we wait a couple of days and nothing comes of it, then we can try Plan B, by telling the guys that my name has been removed at Terry's request. Somebody will get pissed and some names will be withdrawn in protest. Or add Plan C, in which we let the newshounds find out that there's something strange going on with the personal protection squad, and volunteers are pulling out in droves. Or Plan D, in which the PBA protests setting up a squad of policemen to work under the command of a person who is not a sworn law officer, a lawyer from out of state who works for the mayor on his personal staff, whose actions are not reviewable by the PBA or IA or Ethical Standards or anybody else.

"Is that enough, or do you want more?"

"Just one more question. You aren't mad at me, are you?"

"Of course not. But if Mueller is somehow pushing buttons to embarrass me, what do you think he'll try to do to you? Don't you think we'd better try to nip this in the bud?"

THERE'S MYSTERY IN THE HISTORY

It's funny that I've got this far along with my story and not mentioned much about Val's family. She's the youngest of three sisters, the baby of the family. Her sisters are both married and living out of town, one with two kids, and the other with three. Val's father is a civil engineer, specializing in roads and bridges. He gets outdoors a lot in his work, although not as much as he once did, now that he has younger employees to do a lot of the leg work for him. He works hard, but his whole life is centered on his family. At family get-togethers, it's sort of a joke that he never says much, but always lets everybody know what he thinks. He can say more with a few words than anybody since Lincoln wrote the Gettysburg Address.

Val's mother is very special to me, sort of filling a space in my life that was left when my own mother died right after I joined the Army. Val and her mom are close, always were, and her mom is probably the only person in the world that we spill our guts to. It's not an imposition; she expects it and she likes to know everything that's going on in our lives. Her name is Paula, and that's what I always call her. It's just a little something we ironed out way back when Val and I started to go together. She knew that I'd never feel right calling her Mom, and Mrs. Stewart seemed too formal, so she's been Paula to me ever since.

Paula has a twin brother, Paul Ekblade. He taught English at the community college for years, and after his wife died of cancer he retired early to work on his writing. He was reclusive for six months or so, and then he got active in the local historical society. It was dominated by elderly women who were looking for awful things to get upset over, and Paul used to refer to it as the hysterical society. Without any big endowments, it limped along and finally the trustees had to admit that it was about broke and would have to close its doors.

By that time Paul was on the board of trustees of the local library, which came into a wonderful grant from the estate of a lady who liked to read. The timing of the windfall was lucky, because the library was pretty rundown and needed to be expanded, modernized, and refurbished. The rear of the library couldn't be pushed out because the property in back of it belonged to the historical society, and Paul, with a foot in each canoe, managed to inspire a local architect who combined the two properties into an attractive, impressive cultural asset for the whole community. Paul was appointed to manage the combined facility, which kept his finger on the city's pulse and gave him a big office and access to all the facilities and resources a writer could ask for.

One of the projects that Paul pushed was access to the local newspaper, which went back over a hundred years. In conjunction with the publisher, the community college, a charitable foundation, and a computer manufacturer, the whole printed history of our area, as published over the years in the paper, was put into computer memory and made accessible in a special room in a new wing that was added as part of the remodeling project. Oh, how proud Paul was of that newspaper archive room!

Back on Walnut Street I was watching a basketball game on TV when Val plopped down in my lap. I'd rather play with her than with the TV, so the game was quickly forgotten and she started to tell me what was on her mind, in between kisses. "Ken, this Mueller thing has got me thinking. There must be more behind his rise to power and sudden decline. I don't even know what he's doing now, do you?

"No. I heard he's out of the department but I'm not even sure of that."

"Would he be drawing a pension? He didn't seem very old to me."

"Where are these questions going to? Tell me what's on your mind."

"Well, I remember reading somewhere that the Jesuits believe that before you confront your enemy you should learn all you can about him. You know that Ignatius Loyola, who founded the Jesuits, was a military man before he became a religious leader. He never backed away from a conflict but he believed in going into every conflict well prepared. I got thinking about that when I was scrubbing the kitchen floor last weekend. I think we ought to find out all there is to learn about Mueller. What do you think?"

"All right. How do we do that?"

"I think we need help. Somebody with access to all the facts, who's got time on his hands, and who will do anything to make me happy."

"You got a boyfriend?"

"No, silly. Much better than that. I've got an uncle. I'm going to call him. Maybe we could go see him this weekend. Okay?"

Saturday morning we had an appointment to see Uncle Paul in his well-appointed office at the library. He had coffee in a carafe on a warmer, and cute little mini-donuts on a tray that looked like silver. His conference table was polished, and cleared of everything except a thick computer printout that was like a roadmap of some huge database of the history of our state, county, and city. "Don't mind that," he said, "It's so huge that if I kept moving it in and out of a shelf or a file drawer it would disintegrate and I'd be lost when I try to look something up. I know it looks rather forbidding, but it really is useful to me, and it doesn't take up all that much room.

"Now about this Captain Mueller that you asked about. He's a strange duck, a man driven by personal ambition and a strange notion of how to achieve power and fame. What drew your attention to him?"

"He fixated on Ken after that shooting we were involved in. He decided that Ken had something to hide, and he thought he was the person who could find out what it was. It was all in his imagination. There wasn't a shred of truth in any of it."

"I see. But that was quite a while ago. Why bring this up now?"

"Somebody is trying to discredit Ken, and me too, I guess. The way it all came up made us think that Mueller is behind it, and we're afraid for some of our friends, too. So we'd like to put together a complete biography of Mueller and his schemes, right from conception onward. Can you help?"

"My dear, you know I can."

"Then will you, please, as a favor for your favorite niece?"

"To borrow an old burlesque comedy line, 'You ask me so sweetly, how can I refuse?'"

"There was something crooked about how Mueller got into a command position in the police department. I think it had to do with a mayor and some real estate swindle. Can you fill us in on that, too?"

"That's practically done already. I got into that a year ago, looking into the history of corruption in city hall. Not pretty reading, but you'll have that, too. What else?"

"There's a lawyer working on the mayor's personal staff, named Terry Gardner. He made some moves that made us think that his strings might be controlled by somebody outside that office, maybe Mueller, or somebody involved with Mueller. Or it may be that he has some hidden agenda of his own. We need to know what his game is."

"Well, that's a pretty good looking grocery list. Can you come around here next Sunday afternoon? I may not have all of it by then, but I'll have something to show you. Phone me when you're coming and I'll meet you at the door. The place will be closed for business, but I'm always haunting the halls at odd hours."

"May I bring a friend? A good looking blonde about your age, with a sharp mind and a dynamite body?"

"Please do. In that case, I'll try to look presentable. Might even get a haircut."

"And may I please take another donut, for the road?"

YOU CAN'T TELL THE PLAYERS WITHOUT A SCORECARD

Sunday afternoon found Val introducing Bobby Winston to Uncle Paul. Paul's interest was immediate and obvious. "You're Captain Winston of the police?" Bobby entered a guilty plea. "I've been reading about you for years now. You seem to be the best thing that's happened to law enforcement around here since handcuffs. I'm honored to have you visit my office."

Bobby's face lit up and she joked, "Wow. That was such a warm welcome that I ought to go out and come in again. Thank you for your generous praise, Paul. I assure you, I'm just one city employee trying to do my job, but it's a lot of hard work and it's great to know that someone has noticed."

We went into Paul's office and sat at his conference table while he dimmed the lights and gave a well crafted PowerPoint presentation. He began with the history of the city and the sleazy deals that had marked its early growth. One point he made is that the city sometimes benefited from them, since they involved the development of property into facilities that were useful to many of the citizens. But in other cases, the corruption was theft of taxpayers' money or other assets, such as diversion of the labor of city employees to benefit private property owners who just happened to be politicians. He quickly moved up to recent history, highlighting the deal pulled off by a recent mayor, who rigged the planning and zoning commission to refuse a zoning change for a large piece of land, which eventually had to be sold for a fraction of its actual worth, since no businesses could be built on it. It was bought by the then-mayor's cousin, who applied six months later for the zoning change and got it, so that he could sell the land to a developer for a quick profit of several million dollars. "The mayor's cousin was Felix Zanger. That's an odd name, easy to remember. We'll come across that name again," said Paul.

Then he went on to the current administration. "There have been few obvious examples of corruption under this mayor," he said. "There has been favoritism in awarding contracts, and other deals that don't involve the mayor or his family directly, but definitely have lined the pockets of favored contractors and suppliers. The administration can benefit from these indirectly, but everything has been handled discreetly, so we can't detect or measure any payoffs. Now we do see that some of the same extended families have members who have landed good jobs with the city, and Terry Gardner, whom you mentioned, is one of these. These hires have the effect of planting people in key positions who can do favors in the future for friends of the mayor and the city council.