One Night In Bangkok Ch. 01

"Thank you, Amber and Bettina." said Madden. "Dr. Keller, do you believe that Commander Troy's testimony before the Committee will make a difference in the ongoing investigation of Governor Val Jared?"

"If Commander Troy tells the truth, it should." replied Keller. "If Commander Troy tells the truth that Governor Jared used him as a political tool to attack two women who made credible claims of sexual harassment against the Governor, then Troy's testimony will be the 'smoking gun' the Legislature needs to impeach and convict Governor Jared."

"If Jared is convicted and removed from office," said Madden, "won't that just help Sharon Marshall when she runs for Governor in the next election, by putting her in the Governor's chair?"

"The important thing is to show the People of this State that electing Val Jared was a huge mistake." said Keller. "Removing him from office is the only rightful way to show the voters that they should have listened to us and voted against Jared. And beyond that, Lt. Governor Marshal will have to deal with the fact that her Party committed election fraud in the Caucus that got her elected Lieutenant Governor, and she'll have to deal with the fact that she's a Republican, whose brand is very toxic with the People of the State today."

"Thank you, Dr. Keller." said Keith Madden. "Back to you, Bettina."

"Thank you, Keith!" said Bettina happily. "And now lets go to Jeff Hull for Sports. Jeff!"

"Thank you, Bettina!" said Hull, broadcasting from a strategic spot that showed University Memorial Stadium in the background. "The University's Athletic Department has announced that the No. 93 jersey worn by All-America defensive end Derrick 'Bloody' Waters will be retired during the Bulldogs's first game against Taco State. Waters, called 'Train No. 93' while a standout defensive end with the Bulldogs, was paralyzed in the game against the Wildcats last Fall..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Aw, that's really cool." said Captain Tanya Perlman as the Command Group Coffee Klatch watched the broadcast in the Chief's Conference Room. "Derrick has been working very hard trying to walk again."

"What's his progress?" asked Chief Moynahan.

"Slow." said Tanya. "The parallel bars are 30 feet long. The best he's done with their help is 15 ft. He's getting a few steps in, but he was a very large man, and still is, and his legs have weakened a lot. It's going to be tough, but I think he'll get there eventually."

"How far are you going on those bars?" asked Teresa Croyle.

"Walking on my arms on them, all 30 feet." said Tanya, who worked on her upper-body strength a lot. "My legs? Zero meters. My spinal condition is a lot worse than Derrick's."

"But your mental condition is a lot better." said Cindy. "Maybe Derrick needs... proper motivation. Like a guy with a red crowbar in front of him."

"Or behind him, spanking his butt to get him moving." Tanya replied. "Commander Troy has visited him a couple of times, though never during the rehab sessions."

"So what was with that excrement Adam S. Keller was spewing out?" Cindy Ross asked.

"Har, that's obvious." growled Sheriff Griswold. "He's trying to set the expectations. He knows that if Don tells the truth, then Jared will not be convicted, and maybe not impeached. So he basically is saying that if Don doesn't lie, then he must be lying."

"Keller and Dr. Lionel Carmela of the University's Political Science Department are close friends, and both are extremely left-wing in their views." said Teresa. "As in outright Socialist left-wing. He just gave away the Democrats's battle plan for Commander Troy's testimony; if he doesn't throw Jared under the bus, then he, Don, will be branded a liar."

"We did not need Keller to tell us that." growled Griswold.

"So what is this case Don is working on?" asked Cindy, to change the subject.

Chief Moynahan replied: "Murder of a Westphalia Police Officer. He called me yesterday and said he was going over to look at it, then called last night and said it was big and that he needed to keep working on it. What I don't like is Bettina blabbing it all over the place."

"Get used to that." Cindy said. "With the FBI formally investigating her, and going through her entire life with fine-toothed combs, she and the Media overall are going to do whatever they can to harm Don and any good work he is doing. It's gonna get worse, not better. For all of us."

"As long as they leave Betsy and our families alone, fine." said Teresa. "We can take care of ourselves, and take care of those Media pukes, too."

"Slow your rollllll, Captain." said Chief Moynahan. "I want you guys to rise above it, and them. I'm not saying help them, and we're not going to in any way. But sometimes when they're shadow boxing, and the shadow disappears and they're fighting empty air... sometimes that's the best thing to doooo."

"Chief," said Cindy, "I just learned the hard way that we can't just sit and wait for their next attack."

"That's not what he's saying." Griswold growled with his most 'fatherly' growl. "We're going to give them nothing to attack. But if they keep up their shit... then we'll let the guy who can and will rip them a new one do it..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

8:30am, Monday, March 18th. I pulled up to the Headquarters of the Westphalia Police Department, wearing a gray suit, white shirt and blue tie with little TCPD logos on it, my silver-gray trenchcoat that reasonably matched the suit, and my white Tilley hat with insignia. A huge crowd of Press was blocking the entrance, yelling questions at me and trying to shove their cameras through the windows of my vehicle. It was a good thing that WPD Officers were moving them out of the way; I was not stopping and would have run over any reporter that stayed in my way if I got to him or her.

Shane O'Brady was inside, and had called me to warn me about the huge Press presence. There was no gated-off place to park, so I had to park near the building and walk towards the door. Police were trying to hold back the Press as they shouted questions (and some obscenities) at me, but I just looked forward, ignoring them.

Then someone managed to jump into the aisleway and push a microphone into my face. He barely had time to speak when I grabbed his arm and drove him forward and down into the pavement with an Aikido move. Then I cuffed his hands behind his back. The Press went instantly silent, totally in shock. The Police were now tense, and ready to confront the Press much more vigorously.

"Take this shit eater through full booking." I said as an Officer helped me yank the man to his feet. "Assaulting a Police Officer." Two Uniformed Officers quickly took the man ahead and into the Station. I resumed my walk to the door, this time with much less resistance in my path.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Nicely done." said Shane O'Brady as he came up to me once I got inside. "I've never seen the Press so rabid, before."

"That was a pretty quiet day with the Media for me." I replied.

"Do you really want us to put that guy through full booking?" asked Detective Marvin Chester, who'd come to escort us to the Chief's office. I noticed that he and all Westphalia Police Officers had black tape over their badges.

"Absolutely." I said. "The Press has to be shown they can't just run at us in a threatening manner like that. Who was that clown, by the way?"

"An SNN reporter, Bill Hacosta." said Chester. "He's a total asshole. A lot of us here enjoyed watching you take him down. Okay, let's go see the Chief."

Chester took us to the office of the Police Chief, William 'Bill' Engle. Engle was middle-aged, with graying brown hair and a big mustache. He was tall but seemed to have scoliosis; his posture was a bit 'droopy'. Lieutenant Cecil Mason was in the office with him.

"Lt. Governor Marshall called and asked me to accommodate you looking into Lieutenant

Cash's death." said Chief Engle. "Lieutenant Mason here will work with you on this end. If there's anything you need at all, he's the guy that can get it for you."

"Thank you, Chief." I said. "May I ask you a couple of questions?"

"Sure." said the Chief. Was that a slight hint of annoyance I detected?

"First," I said, "I looked up Lt. Cash's record, which was stellar. But I noticed that he had a six year hiatus, then came back about four years ago. Why was that? Military Reserve deployment?"

"That's what I thought it was." said Mason. "I know he went to Iraq."

"He did, but it wasn't with the military." said Chief Engle. "Let me start at the beginning. Cash had a great career with us. Became a Detective, then Detective Sergeant below-the-zone, as you military types say, and then became a Lieutenant in another four years. We had some shortages of quality people at that time, and he got the early nod."

"To put it politely," Engle continued, "it burned him out. He was still doing good work, solving some really tough crimes, but there came a time when politics and other things put more pressure on Police Officers than the criminals ever did. He asked for a leave of absence of six months, and I granted it to him."

"Then he became a contractor for some security company," went on Engle, "and the next thing I knew he was in Iraq with them... and making a hell of a lot more money than this or any other Police Force in the State could ever hope to pay him. He ended up being over there, or maybe I should just say away from here, for about six years."

"And then, like the proverbial lost cat, he suddenly just showed up on the doorstep again." went on Engle. "I hired him back, into Homicide & Robbery. And he did fine, very effectively leading the Detectives in there. But he never really did anything big himself again, and to be honest, it wasn't his job to, anymore."

"So he was unhappy?" I asked.

"If he was, none of us ever saw it." said the Chief. "Captain Tsoulas is... was... his immediate superior Officer. You might ask him for more information about his emotional state."

Lt. Mason chimed in: "I can tell you that we never had reason to believe Cash was under any particular stress once he got back. We were watching for PTSD, like we do for all Officers we hire that were in Iraq or Afghanistan. The only thing we noticed was that he was not the 'go-get-'em' type he had been when he was younger. He was calmer. He helped the Detectives under him become better, but he never stepped in on their cases... and there were times we wished he had."

I nodded. "He wasn't married, was he?" I already knew the answer, but asked anyway.

"No." said the Chief.

"That may have been his one vice, pun not intended." said Lt. Mason. "He went to strip clubs up in the City a good bit. And probably not to recruit C.I.s. But he never got into trouble, and never passed out any secrets nor compromised us, so we let it go."

"Okay, guys, why don't you go check out his office." said the Chief. "Let me know if you find anything relevant."

"We will, Chief." I said. We shook hands with him, then Cecil Mason led us to a large room with a lot of desks, and offices around the walls ringing it. Mason led the way to Cash's office in that outer ring and admitted us. I noticed the Officers and Detectives in the large room peering at us.

"I'll leave you to it." said Mason. "If you find anything, do let me know."

"Thanks." I said. As the door closed behind Mason, I wasted no time in lowering the blinds over the windows, so that the peering eyes would not see what I did next. I made a hush sign, which O'Brady acknowledged by nodding, and then I took out my bug-finder and began going around the room. The green light lit up brightly at the edge of the overhead light, and again next to the lamp on Cash's desk.

I wrote a note on my notepad that said "Talk normally, as if you don't know the bugs are here. Don't worry about saying anything they might hear." O'Brady nodded.

"Okay." I said, re-opening the blinds. "Did you do your computer research last night?"

"As much as I could." said O'Brady. "He had a really good and clean record with the Police, nothing in connection with Pottsville that I could find, and seemed to be doing a bang-up job until now. So, what do you want to start looking at?"

"I'll look in this filing cabinet." I said. "See if he left any notes in his desk."

"Think it might be someone from an old case of his?" asked O'Brady as he sat down and began going through the desk drawers.

"I dunno, that's always a possibility." I said as I opened filing cabinet drawers and skimmed through them. "I just wonder why he left the WPD the way he did, and more importantly, at the time he did."

"Why is that important?" asked O'Brady.

"It was the heyday of the Consultant of Crime." I said. "If he was one of the good and better cops in the State, Westboro might have targeted him. One of Westboro's favorite tactics was to try to make it look like the good cop had gone bad, which is what he (Westboro) tried to do to me... and damn near succeeded."

"Why do you think that?" O'Brady said as he rifled through some papers. "That Westboro targeted Cash?"

"Because Westphalia's I.A. came in so fast." I said. "I don't know how Pottsville's I.A. works, but Cash's Captain went to I.A. really fast, if you ask me. You'd think they'd call him in and ask him what it was about, first."

"Maybe they did," said O'Brady, "and weren't satisfied with his answers."

"That would be in their reports, I would think." I said.

"True." said O'Brady. "But as to his leaving, he came back before you took Westboro down."

"Yeah, he did." I said. "And that reminds me that I'm theorizing without sufficient data. But there are three possible Westboro theories: one, that Cash became aware Westboro was trying to smear him, and got out while the getting was good; two, that the WPD became aware of the smear effort, and got him out while the getting was good; and three... that Westboro succeeded in smearing him, and he was forced out then allowed to come back later."

"And then there's 'none of the above'." said O'Brady. "Maybe the U.S. Government asked the WPD to let them borrow Cash as a security contractor, and everyone agreed to it. They made a cover story for it, to explain his initial absence, and they've stuck to it."

"Could be." I said. "In that case, there are forces above my pay grade at work in all this." I said that as I pulled the artificial plant out of it's pot that was sitting on top of the filing cabinet, then looked under the pot. Nothing there. Then I did the same for the artificial palm plant in the corner of the office. Ditto that; nothing there.

"Pull the drawers and see if he taped anything to the bottom of them." I said, doing the same for the filing cabinet. Our thorough search found nothing hidden.

"Maybe there's something on his computer." said O'Brady. "We should see if we can get his password."

"Tell you what; let's don't ask. Let me drive." I said. O'Brady got up and I sat down in the chair. I turned on the computer, then looked around the room as it booted up.

"What are you looking for?" O'Brady asked. He'd been carefully watching me the whole time, and I knew it was to learn from what I was doing.

"Just sitting here, using my imagination." I said. "Putting myself in Cash's place. If he wanted to leave a message behind of what he was doing in case things went bad for him, but he didn't want it so obvious that the Police... or perhaps the perps... could easily find it, how would he go about that?"

"From what I've heard," O'Brady said with a grin and a gleam in his dark eyes, "you shouldn't have to imagine too much, since you do it yourself." I chuckled as a red crowbar was waved in his general direction...

"He always wanted to be you, Iron Crowbar." a voice said.

We looked at the door, which was half-open. Just inside the office, having slipped in, was a man about my age. He was wearing a suit and tie, his badge on his belt. He looked like a tough, grizzled veteran of the Westphalia Police Department.

"Well," he said, coming on in, "he wanted to be like you." the man said.

"And you are?" asked O'Brady.

"Oh... I'm Senior Detective Tom Carrier." he said as he extended his hand, which O'Brady shook politely. "I was officially Lt. Cash's partner. More like his protégé." He shook hands with me, as well. "They called us 'Cash and Carrier'."

"Have a seat, if you don't mind." I said, indicating the chair in front of his desk. He sat down as I asked "Did you know what Cash was working on the past few days, what took him to Pottsville?"

"No." said Carrier. "He never said anything to me. About a week ago, I.A. came and asked me if I knew what he was working on, and I told them that I had no idea what he was doing."

"So he'd been away from the office for a week," I said, "and you never asked if everything was okay?"

"No, I didn't." Carrier said. "He'd discovered that a couple of murders in this county had been linked to that Marcie Harper drug gang, and he had me working on further links with that."

"Out of curiosity," I said, "did you find those links?"

"I found some stuff, but right now it's nowhere near good enough to make an arrest, much less get a conviction." said Carrier. "But we've got time; the perps are in jail."

"Professionally speaking, would you say you were closer to Lt. Cash than anyone else?" I asked.

"Ahhh, maybe since he was officially my partner, you'd think that." said Carrier. "But I think he treated me the same way as his other Homicide Detectives."

"Just Homicide?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's officially 'Homicide & Robbery', but there are division within." said Carrier. "Cash handled homicides, pretty much exclusively. He was the closest thing we have to a 'Major Crimes' unit on the Force."

I nodded. "So he didn't confide anything to you that he might've kept hidden from others, or wanted kept hidden from others?" I asked. "And as part of that, I'm asking if he told you where something was hidden, to find if something happened to him?"

"Oh no, nothing like that." said Carrier, looking straight at me, as he had been the entire time.

*KNOCK!* *KNOCK!* *KNOCK!* *KNOCK!*

The door opened to reveal Detective Marvin Chester. "Oh, hi Tom." he said, seeing his colleague in the room. "Commander, Detective O'Brady, we just got word of a gas explosion in a residential neighborhood in the southwest part of the town, at 631 Callen Drive."

"That's Cash's house!" exclaimed Carrier. "We had a Crime Lab team there. Was anyone hurt?"

"Not that I know of." said Chester.

"Shane," I said, "why don't you go with them and examine the scene. I'll go see if Captain Tsoulas is in his office."

"Wilco." said O'Brady.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I get very used to the fact that as the Police Commander of the TCPD and second-in-command of it, that not many people outrank me, either officially or unofficially. I even ripped an Army two-star General a new ass once. Heck, I tried to kill the CIA Director, but I digress...

But I also knew that I was on someone else's turf, so I was polite and deferential when I asked to see Captain Tsoulas, and was ushered into his office.

I guess I'd expected the stereotypical Greek man, but Captain Phillip Tsoulas was of medium height, fairly slight build, and it looked like his necktie of his dark blue Police uniform was too tight on his neck. He also had black tape over his Police badge.

"Ah, the Iron Crowbar." he said enthusiastically, getting up and coming around his desk to shake hands with me. "I'm glad to meet you. Have a seat. What can I do for you?"

"Thank you for making some time for me." I replied as I sat down, sitting up very straight in the chair as my 'girdle' brace was holding me up. "I've been asked to look into Lieutenant Cash's murder. I'm sorry for your loss. I understand you were his immediate superior Officer?"