Black and Blue

In my stories I use language appropriate to the scenarios and characters portrayed. Sometimes this is not language I myself would use or approve of being used in real life. If you have a problem with such derogatory terms then please take note.

My plan is to present this story in two large sections. So lets get started.

He was a big man. In this area he was also very identifiable. He HAD to be the one they'd been told about.

Claire looked at her temporary partner. Skeet had something of a reputation but that didn't alter the fact that he would be totally reliable if things went wrong.

Skeet sensed her eyes on him and gave her a crooked little smile. He nodded at her and then bellowed at the top of his voice.

"PO-LICE. Stay right there boy and show your hands slow."

The last words were spoken with cold menace but they hadn't been needed. The man had reacted instinctively to that first word - almost to that first syllable. His arms had started up with his hands obvious and his fingers spread to make it clear he was unarmed. There hadn't been a moment's hesitation or even a partial attempt to turn to face them.

That told them a lot. It wasn't this suspect's first time to the dance. He knew how to behave and how to minimise the likelihood of getting a bullet in the back. Chances were that he was a professional - just as Claire had suspected.

She moved carefully forward and patted the man down thoroughly. He was indeed unarmed. He didn't move as she searched him. He didn't speak either. He seemed even bigger close up and there wasn't much flab on him. He was a man who was in shape.

"ID?" That was Skeet, his voice clear despite a slight tremor caused by the adrenalin coursing through his system. Claire bit down the frustration. She knew what she was doing and didn't need reminding. The man had his license on him and she quickly checked the photograph against the man in front of her.

His face was calm and impassive. Deep brown eyes observed her with no hint of emotion or concern. That got to her. Out here you were mainly dealing with drunks, petty thefts and traffic violations. Every now and then they'd find some locals cooking up meth or distributing any of the array of illicit pharmaceuticals out there. Always the collar saw resentment, noise, protest and rage or despair. Often there were tears or some pleading. Sometimes some futile resistance that let Skeet and the boys use their batons.

"Right boy you'd best tell us what you're doing round here."

Skeet had moved up covering him as she put the cuffs on. When he didn't get an answer he moved in close and shouted his repeated question, spittle spraying the man's face.

"WHAT YOU DOIN' ROUND HERE NIGGER?"

Claire hated that word - though it was nothing new to hear it from Skeet and the boys. She knew Skeet was pushing the man into speaking, into opening a dialogue they could exploit.

Nothing. No answer, no reaction at all.

"Fuck it," muttered Skeet and they pushed the man into the back of the patrol car.

***

She'd first heard about it a month or so before. The Chief had asked her to sit in on the interview with Mr Butler. It had not been pleasant. The man had been furious as he raged about the 'nigger' - that word again - who had stolen his wife away from him.

She didn't know Butler but in a way she did. He was just like thousands of men from around those parts. Careering into middle-age with a waistline expanding almost as fast as his hairline was receding. He might have been quite handsome once but the extra weight did him no favours and his face wasn't improved by being red with fury.

Claire had been married herself once but this job ate up marriages whole. Her husband had married her knowing what the future would be but knowing it and actually living it had turned out to be two very different propositions. So what had she done? She had devoted herself to her career first and then, well, the hours didn't exactly assist romance. She'd seen enough colleagues' marriages fall apart over the years. Unless, of course, you married a colleague. Claire had contemplated that once - for about half a second. Thanks but no thanks!

She'd sat through Mr Butler's impotent ranting about the Blacks stealing his wife away. The Chief had gone through their routine and established the nature of his complaint. Maybe he couldn't read between the lines but Claire could. Some of Butler's answers and some questions he couldn't answer had been very revealing to her. Butler no doubt knew his job and his automobile inside out. His wife was maybe a different matter. Claire could sense that he had probably taken his wife for granted for a long time. This moment was probably the most he'd even thought about her in years.

"Damn but I feel a fool letting that whore go out to work. Should've kept her home looking after me and raising kids - ain't that a woman's job, ain't that all they's good for." Butler's eyes had flashed with rage before he had noticed Claire's eyes on him. Then he had gone silent.

The Chief tapped his pen on his desk. "This man - the man you say your wife has left with... I understand your position but unless an offence has been committed."

Butler reacted furiously. "You ain't been listening Sheriff - the man's a fucking nigger. Ain't no way my wife would be running off with him. So its kidnapping or he's drugged her or something. Anyway he needs to be... he needs to be..." The sentance ran into the sand as Mr Butler cut himself short.

Claire knew what he was thinking and the Chief did too. The Chief, however, was nothing if he wasn't a politician.

"Assuming that to be the case Mr Butler, where would we find the man or men concerned?"

Claire wanted to smile but didn't do so. The Chief knew how to handle folk like this. He also knew that the men concerned were highly unlikely to be living in his jurisdiction. They were supposed to be African-American weren't they and this place was the poster-location for 'white-flight.'

"I don't have a fucking address Sheriff but can't the Metro Police get you that?"

She almost sensed the Chief relaxing. He knew where this guy was coming from, he might even sympathise with him more than Claire might like, but he was extremely ready to have an excuse not to waste time on him.

"Detail your allegations to the Officer here," the Chief tilted his head at Claire, "but we need precision to get anything out of the Capital. You must know that - you know how it is over there."

Butler nodded. He knew - he'd seen it on the TV enough to know. The Capital wasn't as bad as H-Town but it was bad enough. What could you expect with all the fags, niggers and worse running about there and even sometimes running things. He understood what the Chief was laying down. Unless they came onto his territory there was little he could do.

Brilliant - at least for the Chief. She'd spent three hours interviewing Mr Butler and getting a master-class in kvetching and whining. Fuck it - if she'd been married to the sack of shit she'd have dumped him a long time before nine years had passed! One thing ran true though. His wife didn't seem the sort to have run off to the big city to shack up with a Black man. She came from a similar background to Claire. There were some things you were brought up knowing never to do, things that didn't even figure on your radar. They had no children but Mrs Butler had dumped a job at the local medical clinic and plenty of friends too. Claire saw the outline of the picture but knew that she was missing something - but they weren't likely to find out what that something was unless one of the guys came back over here and how likely was that?

Which brought us to now and Mr Butler's call to report what he'd seen that morning. Or rather WHO he'd seen.

***

It was only after they'd brought the man in that Butler had admitted that it wasn't actually THE guy who had taken his wife but rather a man he'd seen with that guy. Fucking marvellous. In her old Department they'd have been written up for making an arrest on such flimsy pretexts. But this wasn't her old Department - out here things could be a little more 'relaxed', at least from their perspective.

Maybe from his too. They'd arrested him, read him his rights, brought him all the way in, questioned him and put him in the cells. Through it all he'd been like a block of wood. He'd said nothing, not one word. Shit - he hadn't even changed expression. That same neutral impassive message from face and eyes alike. You had to admit that it was impressive. Also very revealing. He was a professional for sure and now Claire's spidey-senses were seriously tingling. There was something going on and she itched to know what it was. That was how she was - that was why she'd wanted to join the Police since she'd been in pig-tails.

The man fascinated her. He didn't do so much for Skeet - her partner was seriously pissed off by the whole scenario. However, even when Skeet had shoved the guy backwoods of his chair the man had just got up and sat down again. Same non-expression, same sense that he knew he could just wait them out. The worst of it was that he was right.

Finally the Chief had given up and let them give him the phone. Lawyers were dog-shit but at least one might break the impasse. They were getting nowhere fast and really had nothing to lose...

***

"Oh shit - never thought that nigger-loving cunt would make it down here."

She hardly even noticed the language. Skeet was Skeet. Instead she looked out at the parking lot and instantly knew who he was talking about.

She had never met Jessica Lyons but she had seen her on the News often enough. The lawyer of choice for some of the more legally questionable elements over in the Capital. Claire knew Lyons had represented Cassius Green, who was supposedly a strip club owner but was really more a pimp than an entrepreneur. She was also supposed to be in a personal relationship with another club owner. Claire knew that guy had no record but old hands had hinted that fact might be down to luck and/or skill rather than to genuine innocence. What was that guy's name? Antwan something. Lyons herself was retained by one of the big Foundations. In the Capital courts you didn't want to be going up against her.

Now, however, they weren't in the Capital. Things operated differently out here. Claire was interested to see how the lawyer would play it but was immediately distracted by the arrival of another, much more familiar, vehicle.

"Oh fuck - that's all we need. Mother fucka."

Skeet did have a way with words.

***

"My client is a firm supporter of the principles of law and order. That is why we will not be dropping a very heavy law-suit on this Department from a very great height. That is why instead I asked the State Senator to join us and perhaps mediate a solution."

The large man with her laughed a low belly laugh. "Sure there ain't no need for such formalities. Mediation and the likes. Leave that to you lawyers. For me we just need to sit down and see what the situation is here. Maybe you can fill me in Todd?"

The Chief gave a glance at Jessica Lyons but the fat man just waved a hand at him. "Shit Todd, like I said I ain't a lawyer but if you ain't charged him even I know you gotta shit or get off the pot here."

"Well this client of hers has a pretty tasty little record for 'a firm supporter of law and order'. Care to deny that Ms Lyons?"

"Certainly not Sheriff. However, the last entry to that record was more than ten years ago. My client is a fine example of the Taylor Foundation's ex-con rehabilitation process in action. Now - putting such irrelevances aside - do you intend to charge my client or not?" The lawyer's smile was unchanging, her tone measured and calm.

Claire had been watching the suspect. He was still giving nothing away but had there been a momentary ghost of a smile at that last remark.

State Senator Lawson laughed again. "Now then - seems to me we don't want no such formalities. If I can suggest a way forward. First, you got nothing on this boy Todd. Miscegenation laws were repealed a long time ago and this boy ain't even the one involved in any case." He turned to the lawyer. "Now as to what your bo-, your client, was doing over here that's another matter. He got any reason to want to come back here?"

The suspect was unmoving as ever but Jessica shook her head.

The State Senator smiled. "So lets draw a line under this nonsense. Cut him loose under the understanding that if he ever comes back here it'll be the worse for him. Nothing formal or written down of course but with everyone knowing just where they stand." The genial mask slipped a little and the man's tone was clear and commanding.

"What about Mrs Butler? This boy can tell us something about that." The Chief wasn't quite ready to give up and he glared at Jessica Lyons.

"My client will co-operate with you in clearing up that matter. I don't believe there is any evidence that any crime has been committed. If one of your officers would like to speak with him then my client will make himself available - at my office or a mutually agreed venue." The lawyer 's response was relaxed and cool. She held all the cards and everyone there knew it.

In other words not here and not now. Those spidey-senses were tingling again. But Claire knew two things - the Chief would certainly go for it and when it came to picking someone to waste their time going over there to talk to a human block of wood then the choice would be...

***

Life in Milvern County PD could be a frustration. Attitudes weren't exactly up-to-date out here. The Chief was OK but always being the one who got the coffee for Skeet and the boys got old real fast.

Law enforcement had been something of a family business for at least three generations. The Chief sometimes reminded her of her Dad. They were alike in a lot of ways - but the Chief didn't have a 60-a-day habit. A major reason why he was still around. Her Dad had worked in H-Town before things had really gone totally to shit over there. It had been high pressure enough even then but it was his coping mechanism that had finally killed him.

Claire wondered if any of her Dad's colleagues still worked on the force there. She doubted it. There'd been at least two serious scandals and resultant clear-outs in that Department since his time. First over corruption and second over race. Her Dad had seen the first coming and watched it unfold from his sick-bed. He'd never have believed the second one. He was old-school. He knew who a lot of the criminals were and he knew who was most likely to end up in the cells. He called it a cop's instinct. Nowadays they called it racial profiling.

Anyway that tenuous link with a city probably did make Claire the best qualified of the Milvern County officers to undertake the interview. She thought about Skeet going over there and giggled to herself. That wouldn't have ended well. Besides, off his home turf, most of Skeet's interrogation techniques would be problematic to say the least

She wouldn't do the interview alone of course. The Capital Metro would be sending an officer to accompany her. It being their turf and all. They didn't need any arising problems to blind-side them and that was fair enough.

***

"And you would be Claire Doyle. I'm Joe Samson" He stepped forward with an open smile and an outstretched hand, which she shook. "Before I transferred I worked H-Town so I was real sorry to hear about your Pops. He was, er, old-school but he was fair you know. I always enjoyed working with him - which wasn't always the case for someone from my background back then. Things are a little different now - here and there."

Claire felt the little thrill she always felt at moments like this. Connections to her Pops were really precious and finding another one an unexpected pleasure. However, personal feelings weren't the reason for the trip. Her police mind went over every word Detective Samson said. First, he'd done his homework on her and her background. Second, he was telling her that this wasn't Milvern County. Third, he was showing he could make allowances. Claire was under no illusions about her father. His upbringing and his job had made him who he was, all that he was. She didn't doubt that he'd sometimes been less than sensitive in racial matters. She knew for a fact that was true. But she'd always believed he'd tried to be fair and it was good to hear an African-American colleague say he had been. Sansom was pointing out that it wouldn't fly now but for his day...

"You get anything out of Floyd over there?" Samson had let Claire drive them in her unmarked vehicle.

"Not so much," she admitted.

Samson laughed. "I bet you didn't. First time I pulled him his mouth was going like hell and all. Earned him six months in juvie. The only other time he didn't say one word. Quick learner was old Floyd. Smart enough to get out while he could to. Which is why I don't get what reason you might have to talk to him."

So she had to explain it - though she knew Samson would have heard it all before. Once from the Chief and quite probably, if all she suspected was true, another time from that lawyer Jessica Lyons. Samson might help her but there were no guarantees.

"Strikes me," said Samson, "we are wasting our time here. Your man over there didn't treat his wife right and she's found greener pastures. Happens the new fella is an African-American and your man doesn't like it one bit. No doubt his butt is aching hard but it ain't Police business. Besides, where does Floyd even come in He's a friend of this said African-American - well so what? No offence here Officer Doyle but this looks like some racist bullshit to me. Unless there's something else..."

Was he fishing for information? She doubted it. In fact she largely agreed with him - a fact not lessened by having heard Mr Butler rant to her about 'the niggers' taking his wife for over two hours a few days ago. To be honest she wasn't even sure they could count on Butler's identification with any certainty. She had a suspicion all dark-skinned men might look alike to Butler. Maybe he couldn't even tell Floyd and Sansom apart if they were both in a line-up. Maybe he couldn't tell his ass from his elbow at the best of times.

"You can call me Claire Detective." She hoped that would help lessen suspicions a little. "I know what you are saying but everything about this just hasn't quite sat right with me. There's something I think we are all missing. Call it instinct."

Sansom frowned. "Back in the day instinct used to be called out a lot to cover up for just that sort of bullshit."

Claire felt her face redden under his scrutiny. It had been a bad choice of words.

Sansom gave a little grunt and then nodded. "But I know what you are meaning - I've felt it often enough and it generally hasn't led me wrong. Oh and forget about the Detective bullshit - I'm Joe while we're working together here."

Claire tried not to let her relief be too obvious. She knew she'd get nowhere without Joe's help.

***

"You ain't brought that cracka friend of yours then."

She realised with a start that in all this time they were the first words she'd heard the man named Floyd speak. She didn't quite know how to respond.

Floyd settled back in his comfortable chair in the clean well-appointed office at one out-station of the Taylor Foundation. "Suits me anyway - I'm much happier looking at you Officer Doyle. Especially now you off your jurisdiction. Man could look at you all day and feel no pain."

She couldn't help it - she felt the blood coming to her cheeks. She knew he'd said it to set her off-balance and she knew he had succeeded.

"You know better than that Floyd." Joe's voice was low but weighted with gravitas.