Deception

"I'm here to see Manny. Official police business." I was wearing my uniform and flashed my ID and badge.

"Sure. Just a minute."

There was a small reception area so I took a seat. The magazines were at least two years old. I decided to look at my work e-mails, telling you I was really desperate for something to do.

I was only into my fifth e-mail of the 135 unopened messages when a stunning brunette opened the door to the reception area.

"I'm here to see Manny," I told her.

"I am Manny."

She was probably 5'10," about my height. Shoulder length hair. Great body. Long legs that wouldn't quit.

"There must be some mistake," I started to say. Shame on me for being a misogynist. Me of all people. But it was hard to believe she was a computer geek.

"Pete sent you, right?" she asked me.

I sighed and looked the ceiling. "Pete did give me your name."

"Do you have ID?"

I brought out my badge and ID. She studied it and gave it back

"So what can I do for you Detective Pemberton?"

"Call me Max."

"So what can I do for you Max?"

"There is footage from a particular traffic cam that's missing on a particular day that I'm interested in. It's not on the primary server. Pete doesn't know where that data might be backed up."

"That's funny," Manny said to me. "I thought he knew."

"Well, he claims he doesn't," I told her.

"Well, fortunately I do. Come with me."

Manny unlocked the door to the computer room. There were servers everywhere. It was so noisy from the fans cooling the storage units that I could barely hear her speak.

"We keep a back-up of all essential city data on these servers. They're linked to the primary system under City Hall. A lot of people aren't even aware of us, tucked out in the suburbs."

"I see. Do you keep footage from traffic cams here?"

"We're required by law to keep the footage for two years. It's often subpoenaed for traffic offenses, like running a red light, but occasionally we catch something more interesting."

"Like a hit and run?"

"That would be one of those things."

"I'm looking for footage taken by a camera at Parkside Place and Carney Street on March 11, 2011." I handed her a slip of paper with the information written on it.

She focused on the date. "It's coming up on the two years."

"We've got about a week. What happens to the data then?"

"It's automatically purged from the system. We have a finite amount of storage space."

"I guess we're going to have to hurry. Can you find this for me?"

"I'll try. But maybe the camera was malfunctioning that day. That happens quite a bit. Maybe it never existed, in which case you've wasted your time."

"That's what Pete said. But as a favor to me, can you double check?"

She smiled. "Well, since you asked nicely, I'd be happy to."

"It's urgent.

"It always is," she answered. "I'll do the best I can. I'll call you if I find something."

* * *

I didn't have to wait long. I was filling out overdue reports a few hours later when my phone rang.

"Max, it's Manny. Good news. I've found something that might be of interest to you."

"I'll there in thirty minutes."

* * *

She waved me into the server room. There was an old fashioned CRT monitor set up on an unused desk. There was a grainy black and white image on the screen. I couldn't make out much.

"Can you enhance it?"

"Sure, let me see if I can clean it up."

She tapped on a keyboard and the clarity improved.

"It looks like there are two faces behind the windshield. Can you zoom in on that?"

"Let me try." I stood behind her as she continued tapping. I was distracted by her perfume, leaning so close to her. The resolution on the faces was much better. I almost fell over when I made out one of the faces. Maureen was driving. That meant Stewart was in the passenger seat. The left fender had nary a scratch.

It all made sense. Maureen didn't resign to protect her deadbeat husband. She resigned to protect herself. DaVanna had somehow gotten wind of the fact that the traffic cam footage was on Sondra's laptop and arranged for Alessandra to steal it. DaVanna was using the footage to blackmail Maureen. Both Maureen and DaVanna were despicable. Maureen probably made her husband get in the driver's seat after the accident so that he'd take the rap if they got caught. But to make sure they didn't get caught, Maureen used DaVanna to sign off on the accident report requirement, just like she used DaVanna to cause the "contamination" of the blood samples. It was DaVanna who deleted the traffic cam footage off the server in an attempt to tie up the one remaining loose end, not knowing a back-up copy was kept elsewhere.

The only question I had lingering in my mind was how the stolen footage had gotten onto the laptop in Sondra Karlsson's office. No matter. That was a mystery for another day. In the meantime, I had DaVanna dead to rights.

* * *

I'd seen enough spy movies to know what needed to be done in this situation. The solution wasn't in the police manual.

I didn't go to my superior officer.

I didn't go to someone at the Prosecuting Attorney's Office.

I didn't go to the Mayor.

I went straight to the leading newspaper in Cincinnati, The Enquirer.

The beat reporter who covered the West End was a friend of mine. And now was the time to test the strength of that friendship. I called him from my car on the way downtown.

"Scott Winship speaking."

"Scotty, it's Max. Can you meet me, say in five minutes. The plaza in front of your office?"

I heard papers rustling.

"Shit Max. I've got a deadline in an hour," he said impatiently.

I could tell he was going to hang up on me.

"Scotty, this can't wait!" I shouted into the phone.

There was a moment of silence.

"Really?" he finally asked.

"Scotty, do I bullshit you?"

"No."

"Did you get a local Pulitzer for the story you wrote on me arresting that psycho drug addict in the West End?"

"Yes."

"Then fucking be down there in five minutes. If you don't come down, I'm giving this story to somebody else."

"OK. OK. God damn it. Give me seven. I need two minutes to find someone to finish my story and file it."

"Seven minutes," I confirmed, and hung up.

* * *

I went alone. I didn't want to get Lesley tied up in all this. I wanted to be in a public place. No taps. No listening devices. There was an area of the plaza in front of the newspaper building that was a blind spot for the CCTV covering that area. We met there. Scotty arrived a minute late, breathless.

"This better be good."

"It's more than good. It's going to make your career."

"You said you don't bullshit. I can't wait to see what you have."

I showed him and told him. The three "fixed" DUI's. A copy of the repair report. A screenshot of Maureen driving the car from the traffic cam. An Enquirer article on the unsolved hit and run death the same night. The theft of the laptops. DaVanna's complicity in all of it and then her blackmailing Maureen into early retirement. All of it. I held nothing back.

Scotty said nothing until I finished.

"My God Max. You're going to bring down DaVanna Caruso. I'm going to have to meet with the editorial board before we can run a story like this."

"You confirm what I've told you. I've given you copies of the documents you need. I've also included the contact information of my sources. It's your duty to keep this information confidential."

"I know that."

"You're now in the bullseye as well as me."

'Yeah, I know."

"If something happens to me, you go ahead and run the story. I need to figure out how to get this in the hands of the right people to prosecute DaVanna. I haven't quite figured that out yet, but when I do you'll get the scoop, deal?"

"Deal."

We shook hands.

"Max, you're a shit stirrer and you've succeeded in creating the perfect shit storm."

That's me, in a nutshell.

Chapter Eleven

A Momentary Respite

All work and no play makes Max a dull girl. Thank God Leah had come into my life. Since I met her, we shared suggestive texts multiple times a day and Leah got it into her head to send me one of her naked, right before she took a shower holding her tits up with her hands. Solid masturbation material. We'd only had time to squeeze in a couple lunches and one dinner together, and I finally had a chance to make a real play date with her at Room 204 of the Royal Palms Motel. She arrived right on time holding a bottle of Bushmills in her hand. I, not being one to ever turn down free liquor, let her in.

Dating me, she learned that there's a way to dress in the West End, and it's not with a $2,500 dress. She was wearing her gardening jeans, which sported assortment of rips and permanent stains, a bare midriff Bearcats t-shirt, and old fashioned sneakers. In other words, she looked spectacular. Even though she took out her grubby clothes for me, she still had her hair and make-up done.

"A couple nice meals out and you expect something from me," I said as I shut the door behind her.

"It's not as if you've got that much to offer," she replied, putting the bottle on top of the nightstand and lining up two clear plastic cups.

I poked her in the ribs.

She immediately admonished me. "No poking the host, otherwise there's no booze for you."

I nuzzled her neck from behind. That always works. "You wouldn't do that to Max, would you?"

She turned around kissed me on the cheek and handed me one of the plastic glasses filled with a double shot.

"Of course I wouldn't."

We toasted and downed it.

"Looks like you have a clothing issue," I said to her, tugging on her blouse.

Leah was already pouring us each a second drink. She understood me.

"Oh yeah, what's that?"

I succeeded in pulling it up so I could admire her lacy bra and much of breasts.

"You're still wearing them," I answered.

"That problem can be fixed," she said confidently. I helped her off with her shirt and went to unfasten the hooks of her bra.

I took a sip, put my glass down, and helped her off with her bra. I love the sight of a woman in jeans and no top on. It's sexy if you haven't tried it.

"I'm good at fixing problems," I informed her. I flung the bra on the floor took measure of her breasts with my hands.

She purred in my ear. "Ummm, Max, the problem solver."

My fingers danced down her belly to the waist button of her jeans. I was expert in undoing them with one hand. The tattered pants dropped to the floor. She pushed her panties to her knees and I helped her take them off as she stepped out of them. She opened her thighs slightly as she stood, subtly informing me that my fingers had a better place to be. I knew where it was. I thrust two fingers inside her. I never even checked because I knew she would be wet.

She gasped as I finger fucked her.

"That's me, Max the problem solver."

OK, we were getting ahead of ourselves. The drinking first, then the fucking.

She moaned as I let her down.

"My drink's not empty," I said, using my pussy juice drenched finger to point to my virtually untouched glass.

"I thought you were going to try to stop drinking."

"I thought you said you wanted to lose another five pounds, although I don't think you need to," I said back.

She hoisted up her glass. "There's always tomorrow."

I did likewise. "Amen to that." I started in on my second drink.

I was already starting to feel the effects of the first drink.

I put my arm around her waist and drew her closer. Her naked breasts pressed against mine.

"You know they say that your partner looks better after you've had a couple drinks, and you looked good to me before we had our first one," I told her.

"Does that mean I'm now insanely attractive?" she asked me.

"Something like that."

I pushed her on the bed. She was in a sitting position, but her legs were open so I could see her pussy. She liked her sex dirty and so did I.

I put my hand between her legs. She spread them further apart and leaned back on her hands and threw her head back. God she was sexy. I snaked my hand under her butt and put my middle finger dead center on her asshole. I rotated my fingertip. I felt her ass clench. She sat up off of her hands.

"What are you doing Officer Pemberton?"

"I'm searching for weapons," I said in a stern voice. Her ass was definitely a weapon.

"Down there?"

I pulled my hand out, had her watch me wet the fingertip that was touching her asshole. She lifted her bottom up a bit to let me press the wet fingertip against her rosebud. The muscle relaxed and gave way and my finger went into her ass to the first knuckle.

"Is this it?" I asked her.

"Uh huh." She ground her hips against the palm of my hand. My finger was all the way inside her.

"Please don't arrest me Officer."

"Why shouldn't I? Lewd behavior. Harboring a concealed weapon. You've violated at least two sections of the Cincinnati Penal Code," I deadpanned.

"I'll do anything," she pleaded.

"Oh believe me, you will," I told her.

I finger fucked her ass while I contemplated the possibilities.

"Oh Max," she whimpered. Her pussy was in desperate need of attention. I took pity on her and used my other hand to find her center. I wet my thumb and pressed it against her hard pebble of a clit. It was as dainty as she was. She moaned at the dual attention. I gave one of her nipples a suck while my hands were busy. She was huffing in my ear. Her thighs were starting to tremble.

"Oh . . . " I think she forgot my name.

Quick breaths. Her pelvic muscles contracted and I could feel her nerves twitching with life against my fingers as her orgasm arrived in waves. I rode them with her and didn't stop. I didn't want to let go of her nipple. I chased it when it came out of my mouth. I gave it a playful bite for running away from me. That put her over the edge.

"Fuck!" she finally shouted. The last wave was the biggest. This classy, elegant woman was having the time of her life slumming it in the Royal Palms Motel.

Chapter Twelve

The Message

After our morning briefing Lieutenant Odette called me into her office. She was typing on her computer with her back to me when I came in.

"Lieutenant Odette?" I asked through the open doorway.

She whirled around in her desk chair. Sharp, crisp uniform. Salt and pepper hair cut short. Even with no make-up she was a handsome woman. She projected a legitimate air of authority. She got right down to business.

"Max. I've got orders here to temporarily assign you and Officer Groesbeck to patrol the West End. We're short staffed, and you've had a lot of experience working there."

"I do ma'am, but I was hoping to stay on a case I've been working on."

"You mean the hit and run?"

"Yes."

"Drop it."

"Excuse me?"

"That was part of the order I received. You're to drop your investigation. I've given the case to Officers Leland and Hutchinson."

"What?" I should have held my tongue but I was incredulous. It was my case and those two were incompetent fools.

Lieutenant Odette was sympathetic, but only to a point. Orders were orders.

"Look Max, my hands are tied. These orders were specific. I warned you that your snooping around in Stewart McCormick's files would have repercussions."

"Who gave them?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes."

"They came from the top, from Chief Anderson."

"Why him? Why his interest in a cold case?"

"I'm not sure. My guess is someone got to him. Someone with some serious pull."

"With all due respect, Leland and Hutch couldn't find their way out of a paper bag."

"Max?"

"Yes ma'am?"

"Go to the duty desk to get your assignment. Now shut the fuck up and get out of my office."

This demotion had DaVanna's fingerprints all over it.

* * *

I went into the break room. Lesley was sitting alone at one of the tables eating a Danish and drinking a cup of coffee. She pushed a fresh cup of coffee towards me.

"My stuff?" I asked her. Lesley rarely made the coffee and I wanted to make sure she used my beans instead of the crap the department bought.

"Need you ask?"

"I just met with Odette."

"I heard."

"What did you hear?"

"I heard we're being reassigned to patrol in the West End."

"Why am I always the last one to fucking find out?"

"Cause you're Max," she said, as if that was the beginning and end of that line of conversation.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means that you stick your nose in where it doesn't belong and it gets other people's noses bent out of shape."

That was all true.

"So?" I said in a huff.

"So now we're banging heads again in the West End," my partner said.

I gave her a look of disgust. I did my time there. Now I was banished. Fucking DaVanna.

"Max, if you fuck with people they're going to fuck you back. You've apparently irritated some people in high places."

"Like DaVanna Caruso?"

"Especially DaVanna Caruso."

I held up the keys to the patrol car.

"Do you want to drive?"

She took them out of my hand and smiled.

"I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

After a day of chasing drug dealers in the West End I had nothing planned that night, so I made a stop at the liquor store about two blocks from the Royal Palms. I've told you about the dilapidated state of the store before so I won't bore you. There was a tall dude manning the counter, someone I hadn't seen before.

"You new here?" I asked him.

"Yes, I started today," he replied. He looked like a nerdy insurance salesman, all preppy like. He didn't belong in the West End.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him.

He seemed surprised by my question. "Why, I work here."

"No, I mean, what the fuck are you doing here? In this neighborhood?"

"I . . . took this job because I . . . I need the money," he replied, stuttering badly. I guess I intimidated people. He shouldn't have been that easily intimidated.

"Gambling?" I asked him. It was either gambling or alimony.

"No, ex-wife," he replied. It was 50-50 I would get it.

"Well look. Be careful. I'm a cop and I know place does get robbed."

"I'm aware of that."

Aware but not prepared.

"What's the cheapest vodka you've got?" I asked him, getting to the purpose of my visit.

He ran his fingers down a row of clear bottles. He stopped and pulled a bottle off the shelf.

"I'd recommend this one. I've been known to drink it."

I was a budget drunk. "How much is it?" I asked.

"With our law enforcement discount, it's $1.99 for the pint."

There was no fucking law enforcement discount. But I appreciated the gesture.

"I'll take three please."

I usually bought two for the evening, but given the promotional price I thought I'd splurge.

He put them in a brown paper bag and rang it up. I rolled up the top of the bag and carried it out, happy that the day had gotten better.

The parking lot of the liquor store was frequented by prostitutes. Most of the hookers knew I was a cop, but I usually didn't hassle them so the three that were there ignored me as I went out to my car. There was a good chance I'd see one of them later in the Royal Palms parking lot giving a guy a blowjob in his car.

Given my bounty, I decided to start on the first bottle in the liquor store's parking lot. I twisted off the cap and leaned against my car's hood as I took the first swig of my liquid dinner.

"Hey Max, what you doing over there?" a bottle blonde shouted. She was sitting with her mates on the bumper of a large SUV.

"What's it look like I'm doing. I'm drinking," I yelled back.

"Thing are kind of slow. Did you want to go back to the Royal Palms and fuck?"

I wanted to just drink by myself. "No thank you. I think I'll take a raincheck."

"OK, maybe next time."

I took another long swig. "Yeah," I replied back.