Pink Panther Ch. 01

The thought struck me. "That's a good way of putting it." I said. "Made-to-order. Maybe a little too convenient, what we're finding?"

Teddy Parker said "I've been looking at this data, sir. It's... I guess 'tantalizing' is the word for it. There's stuff there... but nothing we can really start to build a case out of. And most of it we've heard or seen before, through the Guardians of Justice."

"How did your search this morning around the crime scene go?" I asked.

"It was a 'no go', sir." said Parker. "We took a team of Uniformed Officers, led by Sergeant Rudistan, and the Crime Lab techs came out to help us. We didn't find anything, except a bunch of used condoms at the back end of the building. Residents said that cars park back there a lot, and in the parking lots of the places next door on either side, and the prostitutes and johns do their business."

"So, guys." I said. "Teachable moment, here. Tell me about that location... put yourself in there, in Dawson's place... anything strike you?"

For a couple of moments Davis and Parker thought about it, and Chow looked on curiously as he looked at paperwork. Finally, Parker said "I'm not sure what you're getting at, sir. It's a cheap place to live, and the guy was hoarding money. This guy Dawson seems to be a bum, almost a 'nobody'. And pretty expendable. But he had that money."

Jerome was becoming introspective. He finally said "I'm not sure this is what you're looking for, sir, but if he was a leaker, whistleblower, or reporter, he had to know the danger he was possibly in. So why doesn't he have a gun to protect himself?"

"You're close, Jerome." I said. "Good job. Here's what I'm thinking, and along somewhat similar lines. This place he was at... lots of car traffic through there, people walking to and from their apartments, door to his room was to the outside. Yet... he had time to call 9-1-1 and shout the address before he was killed."

I continued: "It's my observation of the room that a battering ram would take that door down pretty quickly. This guy would not have had time to call 9-1-1, they're not all that fast answering calls, especially on a busy Friday night."

"Playing Devil's Advocate, sir," said Parker, "he could've run into the bathroom and barricaded himself in while calling 9-1-1."

"Then they should've found his body in the bathroom." said Davis, getting it. "But what does that mean, sir?"

"It means," I said, "that Dawson had an idea the attack was coming. Maybe he was tipped off, or maybe he was looking out the window and saw the perps coming to kill him, which gave him just enough time to call 9-1-1. In either case, that's a 'strangeness'."

"Sir," said Jerome, "there's another strangeness, too." He held up a photo of the Pink Panther disc in its evidence bag. "I've been looking for any Police record involving a a case of a frisbee or disc golf disc, and nothing comes up at all. So this is unique, and I can't shake the feeling that it means something."

I was impressed. "I agree with you, Jerome... that disc has to be a huge clue, if not the key to the case. It's why I'm not concluding that this guy is a whistleblower or part of the GOJ..."

I thought about it, then murmured "It's all about the Pink Panther..."

Part 4 - Flashback: Dead Man Talking

The disc was not the only strange thing going on. As I sat in my office, I was remembering events from a few weeks before.

It was August 31st, just after the week of my suspension and just before the trial of Peter Dwayne Gordon had begun. I had gotten a call from Jacksonville State Prison, saying that Leonard Sharples wanted to see me before he was put to death that night.

I wasn't going to go, but Chief Griswold had somehow known about the request, and suggested I go. So Cindy Ross drove the Black Beauty (at record speeds, I might add), with me and Chief Griswold as passengers.

The Chief and Cindy stayed outside. We were wary of possible threats to our personal safety. I went in alone, no gun, no crowbar.

I was escorted down a long hallway to a shorter one. Sharples had elected to be shot, so the room for the firing squad, which looked like a small gym room, was prepared. A holding cell along the way to the Death Chamber contained the condemned man. There was a glass partition with phones; I would not be allowed to be in the same room with him.

To my surprise, Chaplain Steven Ikea was there, who would escort Sharples to the Death Chamber. I had not seen him in a very long time. He had on his clerical collar and black vestments. I did not speak to the Chaplain as I sat down and picked up the phone, coming face-to-face with the man who had tried to murder me for the first time since his trial.

"Thank you for coming, Commander." said Sharples. "I just wanted to thank you for cleaning up those God-cursed child molesters of the Oldeeds Organization. I saw where you gave me some of the credit. That was nice of you."

"You had a lot to do with taking the bastards down." I said. "I gave credit where it was due. I do have one question, though... why didn't you just tell me which safe deposit box it was? Why make me crack the code?"

"I didn't know which box it was, or what bank it was at." said Sharples. "I knew of the code, but I could never crack it myself. So I passed it along to you."

"But... you didn't put the note behind Feeley's photo?" I asked, incredulous.

"No." said Sharples. "I got the code from Burris, the father of the guy you found dead in that house with the safe room.

"Then..." I asked, stunned and wondering... "Look, Sharples, your notes and Harlan's notes were found with all the Burris information in the safe deposit box. If you didn't put it there and your stuff in it, who did?"

"I don't know, Commander." said Sharples. "But it wasn't me." He could see that I was totally stunned at hearing this; I'd always assumed (bad word) that Sharples had put his and Angela's information in the box.

"Did your lawyer know about the box?" I asked. "Someone was paying for the box rental, and it had to be kept up."

"No, he didn't know any more than I did." said Sharples. "He just sent the letters for me. Seriously, Commander, I don't know anything about it."

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

I was also invited to watch the execution of Leonard Sharples. Death Penalty protesters clamored outside. Cindy and Chief Griswold had come inside to watch, as well. The rest of the people were reporters.

There were eight benchrests, each with a Remington 700 rifle loaded with one .308 caliber cartridge. In theory, half the rounds were real and half were blanks, and each shooter would not know if his shot was real or a blank... but I knew that all of them were actually real. At the other end, in front of bulletproof material on a wall, was a chair.

Leonard Sharples was brought into the room and seated on the chair, his hands secured behind him to the back of the chair. After a final prayer by Chaplain Ikea and final statement by the condemned, which was something like 'Let's get it on.', a hood with no eyelets nor breathing holes was placed over Sharples's head.

Then the eight volunteers from the State Patrol came in, each man stopping before one of the rifles and putting on the earphones, which would dampen the gunfire noise and transmit the orders to proceed. On orders, each man picked up his rifle, aimed it at the piece of paper over Sharples's chest, where what heart he might've had allegedly was. The phone to the Governor's Office did not ring... Governor Jared had given the 'proceed' order minutes before.

We did not hear the order to fire being given, just the reports of the rifles being fired. Sharples slumped in his chair as a crimson spot appeared on the paper on his chest. The Troopers put their rifles down as well as their earmuffs, and filed out of the room. Then doctors came in and examined Sharples.

Though he had tried to murder me, I chose to remember that Leonard 'Sergeant' Sharples had tried to expose child molesters and bring them to Justice. And for that, I would remember that little bit of good in an otherwise bad man. Let that be his epitaph...

Leonard Sharples was dead.

Part 5 - Flashback: Dead Dog Walking

Saturday, September 2d. Laura and I were invited to sit in the President's Box with Dr. Wellman and his wife, and selected Faculty Members and Boosters and their families. Some were still hostile towards me after the shooting on Campus, but most were cordial.

Before the game against Taco State, a golf cart was driven onto the field, bearing the outgoing mascot, Chief III. I could tell that the old dog was not doing well, but he did look up as the crowd cheered him loudly. The dog collar was taken off his neck and placed around the neck of his handsome son, Chief IV, who was not quite a year old.

As the golf cart began driving slowly to the east end of the Stadium to leave, over 90,000 Bulldogs fans chanted as one: "Damn Good Dog! Damn Good Dog! Damn Good Dog!..."

"They're driving him to the Veterinarian Center." Laura told me. "He has cancer. If he makes it through the night, they'll put him down in the morning." I nodded, feeling very sad. It wasn't my School and he wasn't my mascot, but Chief III was a damn good dog, and his remaining time was short. I remembered Cindy telling me once before: "We don't retire our mascots... we bury them."

Part 6 - Flashback: Mistakes and Redemption

And then I remembered an only slightly less painful day. Chief Moynahan had taken care of Deputy Chief Harlow; it was my duty to take care of business regarding Sergeant Gregory Charles on 'Discipline Day'.

It was a tough one. Retired Captain Leslie Charles was Sergeant Charles's father as well as one of Chief Griswold's closest friends. And Sergeant Charles had a stellar record, besmirched only by the actions of the disgraced Deputy Chief Harlow.

He came into my office, escorted by Captain Teresa Croyle. All of us were in Duty Dress uniforms. Sergeant Charles stood before my desk at attention; Captain Croyle behind him and to his left, also standing.

"Sergeant Charles," I said, pointing to a unopened file folder on my desk. "I have something here on my desk that I do not like having here. The contents of this folder are filth... poison... rat poison. Once I open this file, my actions and your future are irrevocably set."

"However," I said, "we are fortunate that Chief Frank Soltis of the Midtown Police is visiting his old boss, Chief Moynahan, right now. It seems that Chief Soltis needs good, well-trained, high-quality Officers in Midtown. He needs honest, squared-away Police Officers to run his SWAT Team. I suggested to him to interview you for a position with the Midtown Force. If things look good to both of you, then I don't have to open this..." I gestured at the folder, "... pile of excrement. So, would you like to interview with Chief Soltis?"

"Yes sir." said a visibly relieved Charles.

"Captain," I said to Teresa, "escort Sergeant Charles to the Chief's office, then come back here yourself."

Moments later, Teresa was back. I had her sit down. The unopened folder was still on my desk. "So, Captain," I said, "think it'll work out?"

"Yes sir," said Teresa, "and very well, for all of us. What do you think his father is going to say?"

"His father is one reason I'm giving him this chance." I said. "It's funny... even after I was promoted to Commander and outranked him, I was a little bit afraid of Captain Charles... I was afraid of fucking up in front of him. I don't think he particularly liked it that a 'young whippersnapper' like me rose so far, so fast."

Teresa gave what was for her a smile. "No sir. He told me he thought you were a brilliant Detective, but didn't know if you could handle the leadership at your age. But I think you've converted him..."

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

It went well. Sergeant Charles was hired by the Midtown Police Force. I shredded the unopened file folder and its contents.

The next day, I was surprised to find Captain Charles at the door of my office, wearing his Duty Dress uniform with the 'Retired' badge and the gold-bordered blue ribbon that denoted multiple Distinguished Service Awards, and a silver-bordered purple ribbon denoting his Purple Order, which he'd earned during the same incident for which Chief Griswold was awarded the Medal of Valor. My assistant Helena brought Captain Charles into my office formally.

"Thank you for seeing me, sir." Captain Charles said, his baleful eyes fixing mine in his peering stare. "I wanted to thank you for arranging for my son to go to the Midtown Police. His actions were inexcusable, and I apologize for them. You could have busted him down or driven him out of the Force, and you would've been right to do so."

"Noooooo, Captain, I would not have been." I said. "Your son made a mistake. He listened to the wrong person, a person who has truly dishonored the TCPD badge. I don't like wasting the talents of very good people, especially good Police Officers like Sergeant Charles. Midtown PD needs people like him, and it'll work out well."

"Again, sir," said Charles, "I'm grateful to you. If you'll excuse me, sir..." I nodded, and Charles headed for the door. Just before he got there, he turned and said "You know, sir, I didn't know if my friend Grizz had not made a mistake. I didn't know if you had what it takes to do the job you're doing. I'm glad I was wrong." With that, he turned and left the office.

Absolution.

Part 7 - Case In Point

"This is Bettina Wurtzburg, KXTC Fox Two News!" shouted the lovely redheaded reporterette from in front of the State Office Building on Courthouse Square at 7:00am, Monday, September 25th. "Fox Two News has learned that Governor Val Jared has instructed the State Department of Justice to criminally charge BigAgraFoods with discrimination and civil rights violations!"

Bettina: "The Governor claims that BigAgraFoods's policies of ignoring the law and hiring undocumented workers instead of citizens, especially black citizens, violates the civil rights of citizens, especially minorities that are citizens! Roll tape."

Tape rolled, showing the Governor saying "BigAgraFoods prefers to hire illegal persons at wages beneath the legal minimum wage instead of hiring minority citizens, especially black citizens, at legal wages. I have instructed the State Attorney General to prosecute BigAgraFoods executives, as well as the company, to the fullest extent of the law."

Bettina live: "Both Democrats and Republicans are outraged at the Governor's actions. Democrats accuse the Governor of racism against undocumented workers, and say that him calling them 'illegal persons' is viciously racist and out of touch with voters. Republicans say Jared has overstepped his authority as well as the law, and is using the SDOJ as a tool in his personal vendetta against BigAgraFoods, who announced this summer that they were moving most of their operations out of the State. And now let's go to Sports with Nick Eastwood. Nick!"

"Thank you, Bettina!" said the handsome blonde Sports reporter, who had the full attention of every woman in MCD watching the television. "The University has reported that Professor of Women's Studies Jan Camp was fired for cause by the School, after she alleged that she and other professors were pressured to give football and basketball players passing grades! Dr. Camp has lodged a protest of her firing with the State's University System Trustees and the State and Federal Departments of Labor, and says she will sue the University over her wrongful firing!"

"Meanwhile," Nick said, "our Bulldogs are 4-0 and rolling after their 55-10 win over Protestant, while the Wildcats suffered their first defeat, 24-10, at the hands of the Tigers. Bulldogs fans are becoming increasingly excited about October football..."

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

"Yes we are." said Cindy as she drank her coffee in MCD. "We are excited about October football... especially what is going to happen on the last weekend of October!"

"Commander," said Sergeant Micah Rudistan with a mischievous grin, "are you as excited about October football?"

"I dunno, Sergeant." I replied. "This place gets pretty despondent after the Wildcats take care of business on the hometown team. You know, like Appletree-to-Washington last year?" Theo Washington, cousin of the receiver in that immortal play, laughed, flashing his 'movie star handsome' grin. Cindy, by way of contrast, was looking daggers at me.

I continued: "I'm just wondering about this big weekend... Alabama is at Ole Miss, are they not, Parker?"

"Yes sir." said Parker. "And we're gonna crush Alabama's national title hopes... like the Wildcats will crush the Bulldogs at the end of October!"

"Mr. Parker has forgotten who writes up his evaluations." said Cindy cooly.

"But not who receives those evaluations and adds his own, much more astute comments." I retorted. Everyone was laughing at all this.

"Captain Croyle," said Rudistan, "are you a Wildcat or a Bulldog?"

"None of the above." said Teresa. "My school is a Division II school, if we even play football. I don't root for either of these local schools... kind of like not carrying a crowbar."

"What about you, Lieutenant Chow?" asked Rudistan. "Wildcat Red or Bulldog Blue?"

"I went to Eastern State." said Chow, his face registering no emotion. "I guess both the Wildcats and Bulldogs will be hating us, now that the Spartans are in the Conference and will be beating up on both of them."

"I 'misunderestimated' you, Lt. Chow." I said jovially. "You talk trash almost as good as Detective Warner, here." Joanne laughed at that.

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

"This is John Hardwood, KSTD Five-Alive News in the Morning!" said the untrustworthy reporter at 8:00am, Monday, September 25th, from in front of the State Office Building like Bettina. "Five-Alive News is bringing you the news you have a right to know, and today's news centers upon Republican Governor Val Jared's viciously racist attacks upon undocumented workers, and his illegal use of State Government power to persecute undocumented workers!"

After discussing the Governor's use of the SDOJ to prosecute BigAgraFoods for civil rights violations, Hardwood said "I talked with Bob Cochran, spokesman for the U.S. Chamber of Commerce. Here's what he had to say."

Tape rolled. Hardwood was interviewing an older man with a full head of hair and wearing a very expensive suit... hell, my kevlar-lined suits don't cost that much, I thought to myself... who was representing the very pro-(illegal)-immigration U.S. Chamber. Hardwood said, "Mr. Cochran, has the Governor overstepped his bounds, here?"

"John, we're way past any talk of that." said Cochran. "Val Jared's actions are more than unwarranted. We believe they are illegal, and grounds for impeachment and conviction by the State Legislature. It is time to remove the cancer that is Val Jared from any position of political power. He does not represent the people that mistakenly voted for him."

"Mr. Cochran," said Hardwood, "does this action by the Governor call his mental stability into question?"

"I believe it does give grounds to consider that Governor Val Jared's hatred of immigrants is irrational to the point of mental illness." said Cochran.

Back to Hardwood live: "And now we go to Priya Ajmani, who has a special guest for us. Priya?"

"Yes, John, that's right." said the beautiful Indian reporterette, as she stood near the State Office Building, also... in fact, she and Hardwood were only 10 meters apart, though it was made to look like they were nowhere close to each other. "I have with me State Senator Katherine Woodburn. Senator, does the Legislature have plans to convene to impeach the Governor of the State?"