tagErotic CouplingsSafe Room Ch. 04

Safe Room Ch. 04


This story is part of an ongoing series. The chronological order of my stories is now listed in WifeWatchman's biography.

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constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas.

This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above.

Part 16 - Red Crowbar, White Mountains

"This is Bettina Wurtzburg, KXTC Channel Two News!" shouted the lovely redheaded reporterette at 7:00am, Monday, May 8th, from in front of City Hall. "Channel Two News has learned that a complaint has been filed against the Town & County Police and Commander Donald Troy!"

Bettina went on, smiling with pleasure as she reported: "Citizens for Police Accountability spokesmen Jay Swenson and Ken Eidex have filed a complaint with the Town & County Inspector General's Office and the State Office of Ethics and Review, claiming that Commander Troy harassed and threatened a receptionist at BodyCore Technologies!"

Bettina continued, now frowning a bit: "Police Press Relations Officer, Captain 'Brick' Briscoe, stated that the receptionist lied to Police, a felony charge, and has been issued a summons to appear in Court. Inspector General Horace S. Wellman, whose brother is the University President and employer of Commander Troy's wife, issued a statement asserting that he has already examined the evidence and reports of the situation, and finds that the receptionist did commit a crime. The receptionist has been fired from her job, while the Inspector General says that no further investigation of Commander Troy is warranted."

"SBI Inspector Britt Maxwell, a close friend of Commander Troy and supporter of Governor Val Jared, has also refused to investigate the issue, citing Inspector General Wellman's findings. CFPA Spokesman Jay Swenson issued a counter-statement, saying, and I quote: 'It is clear that the political friends of Commander Donald Troy are circling the wagons around him, and protecting him from being held accountable for harassment of citizens.'. Mr. Swenson declined to say whether they will take further action, such as a lawsuit. Meanwhile, Commander Troy has refused to respond to repeated requests from Channel Two News for comment on this matter."

Captain Cindy Ross was beet red with anger as the Detectives and a number of Uniformed Officers listened in MCD. "Good God." she said, unable to trust herself to say more.

"I thought they outlawed lynchings decades ago." said Jerome Davis. "I guess the Media gets an exception?"

"That's exactly what that was." said Captain Teresa Croyle, a 'Teresa Cunt' look on her otherwise pretty face. "A lynching of the TCPD, Commander Troy... and the truth."

"Where is Commander Troy?" asked Detective Theo Washington.

"In the Chief's conference room.." said his partner, Detective Joanne Warner. "And I'm glad it's not me in there, right now." That earned Joanne a glare from the Green Crowbar...

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

I was at the far end of the conference table from the door, where I usually sat. The Chief was at the near end. To his left was Sheriff Allgood. To the Sheriff's left and my right was Captain Briscoe. To the Chief's right was District Attorney Gil Krasney. I had taken aspirin to quell the flare-up of pain in my back. It wasn't working.

"Chase, Lynch & Berry got to this girl pretty quickly." said Krasney. "They're representing her at no cost unless and until she wins a lawsuit. They've already contacted me with a deal that she won't sue the County in exchange for charges against her being dropped, and Commander Troy apologizes for intimidating her."

"They won't sue the County, eh? Did their offer include not suing Commander Troy, especially if he were to apologize?" asked Sheriff Allgood, seeing right through the legal firm's ruse.

"Er, they didn't say that." said Krasney, looking almost guilty, as if he himself were the one caught in the trick. "Look, guys: with the Courts full of real cases, I really don't want to waste time pursuing a Class E felony that we may not win, because she was doing what she was told."

"What I want," said Chief Moynahan, "is to get this tamped down. The Media will stop talking about it in a couple of days; they'll find something else to whine about and move on. But if we take this girl to Court, the story crops back up. And if they file a lawsuit, the story crops back up. So I am going to suggest taking that deal, but insisting that there not be a lawsuit against the Commander as well as the County." All eyes went to me.

"I will not apologize." I said clearly. "And there had better never, ever be an apology issued on my behalf. I will publicly humiliate anyone who attempts to do so."

"Commander," said the Chief, staring me down, putting on his most authoritative Cavalry Officer's voice, "even if you think you did no wrong, you need to think about what's in the best interest of this Police Force."

"With all due respect, Chief," I replied, my eyes boring right back into his, "I am acting in the best interest of the Force. Even if I wanted to, if I were to offer an apology, or one was offered on my behalf, they'll use that against us. They will file the lawsuit, and say the apology is an admission of guilt. And they would win. No sir, I will not apologize. It's up to the D.A. to decide to pursue or not pursue the charges, and to deal with Chase, Lynch & Berry as he sees fit, provided he does not try to issue a policy on my behalf."

"I have to agree with Commander Troy on this one." said Sheriff Daniel Allgood. "An apology would be construed as guilt. And I just spent a weekend coaxing the Inspector General to act quickly on the complaint. An apology would just shred all that and stab the Inspector General in the back."

"So how do we get the Media off our backs?" asked Chief Moynahan. I did not understand why this man was suddenly so worried about the Media.

"We need to issue some kind of statement, Chief." said Captain Briscoe. "The Media were not the only ones that could not get in touch with Commander Troy this weekend; neither could I. Where were you, Commander?"

I was incensed at being asked that so disrespectfully by a subordinate, and said "I was out of Town, Captain, on personal business. I informed my boss, the Chief, that I would be out of the jurisdiction, and I had no obligation to inform any subordinate Officer of my actions. I have nothing more to say about it." I don't know if it was the fire behind my eyes or my crowbar tapping in my hand, but Captain Briscoe said nothing more.

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

But I do have an obligation to tell my readers where I was. After my meeting with Todd on Saturday, I went to City Airport and caught a flight to Boston, Massachusetts. Renting a Ford Mustang GT with a fast, powerful motor, I drove north, into New Hampshire.

It was evening as I arrived at my destination, a large mansion in the foothills of the White Mountains. I gave my name at the gate, and somewhat to my surprise I was admitted. Driving to the front of the house, I could see in the dimming light that the lawn and bushes were beautifully manicured. The garages were to one side, and in a shocking contrast to the peaceful serenity of the rest of the scene, an ambulance was parked there.

A butler, a tall slender man of my own height, but far more advanced in age, admitted me into the hallway, then led me through a couple of halls to a large room in the back left corner of the house. As I entered, I saw to my left a wall that was a huge lattice of windows, not unlike the Cabin's back wall, with a view of Mt. Washington in the far distance. On the back wall were five large paintings of several men, the leftmost being a man in the uniform of a Confederate General, the others becoming progressively more modern. On a long shelf below the paintings were several porcelain urns, that held the ashes of most of these ancestors.

It was easy to see the others were descended from that General, and they were all antecedents of the man who had risen from his chair behind his desk.

"Ah, Commander Troy," said Wallace Bedford, "I must admit that I am surprised and humbled that you have visited me here in my home." He did not sound very humbled.

"I apologize for the intrusion, Mr. Bedford," I replied, "and I will take up as little of your immensely valuable time as possible. I need to speak with a James Rutledge, formerly of my Town & County, whose last known address was here. Or perhaps his wife can speak with me."

"May I ask what it is about?" said Bedford, his polite formality and friendliness belying his deep hatred of my mission to talk to Rutledge.

"I want to ask him a few questions regarding the death of his son ten years ago." I said. "We are reviewing that case, and some new information has come up that might be of value to him as well as to us in solving his son's murder."

"Ah, that makes sense, in many ways." Bedford said cryptically. "Unfortunately, Commander, Mrs. Rutledge left her husband years ago, and I have no idea where she is. As to Mr. Rutledge, it is unfortunate that you traveled such a long way for nothing, but I am afraid that I will be unable to make him available to you."

I knew exactly what that meant: Bedford was going to openly stymie my attempts to find or talk to Rutledge. "That is too bad, Mr. Bedford, as my mission was about family. I can see that you value family very much." I glanced towards the paintings.

"Yes, I do." said Bedford, looking fondly at the portraits of his ancestors. "I'm sure you recognize the great man at left, the Confederate General. He was a founding member of the Ku Klux Klan, as well. It's an honor to be a descendant of that great man, and I feel deeply the responsibility of upholding his legacy."

"I see." I said. "You have a son, do you not?" I knew he did.

A flicker of pain crossed Bedford's features as he said "Yes. And I'm sure you know how gravely ill he is."

"Sick enough to have needed a transplant nearly a year and a half ago." I replied. "A liver... that disappeared from City Hospital instead of going to its rightful recipient."

"One which wasn't adequate, and had to be thrown out." said Bedford. "Fortunately, another arrived at the same time, from Florida, and has given my son time until a cure is hopefully found."

"So the one from City Hospital," I said, my mind reeling with shock, "it was just thrown away, unused?"

"Commander, you have children." said Bedford. "Wouldn't you do anything for them?"

"I wouldn't steal the only chance a little girl had to live to save them." I said. "Especially since there was another way for your son."

"That's the problem with you, Commander. You just don't understand the place of the 'little people'." said Bedford. "You could have been one of us, one of the Elites in this world. You have no idea what you truly gave up when you refused to join the CIA out of college. We would have groomed you for true greatness. And you would've learned that people like that little girl are worthless, totally worthless compared to what we are doing for the greater good of all!"

"I think I'm all the more glad I refused." I replied, trying hard to control the indignation welling up inside me. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Bedford. I'll show myself out."

"I'm sure you didn't come in here now without having some kind of backup plan, and I was caught unawares and unprepared to stop you." said Bedford. "Therefore, you may go in peace. But do not come back again without invitation, unless you want your children to grow up without a father."

I just looked back at Wallace Bedford and said "Au revoir, Mr. Bedford. Au revoir."

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

Back in the present, at the meeting, I heard Chief Moynahan say "Okayyyy, so what do we dooooo?" All eyes were upon me.

"What would you do if you were D.A., Commander?" asked Krasney, trying to be jovial.

"I'd resign; I don't envy you your job." I replied, to some chuckles amidst the enormous tension in the room. "But seriously, I recommend you wait and see if this girl shows up for her hearing. If she doesn't, throw the book and the kitchen sink behind it at her. If she does and offers to plead 'nolo contendere', offer to reduce the charges to a misdemeanor, and go from there. If she pleads 'not guilty', then it's up to you how far you want to negotiate, and to what."

Part 17 - Not Well Prepped

Back in my office after that ridiculous meeting of politicians posing as Officers of the Court, I called in Cindy and Teresa for the 'Angels' meeting.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"I'm about ready to have Bettina put into a boxing ring with me." said Cindy. "Blood will flow. What in the hell was that about this morning? That was the most dishonest piece of journalism I have ever seen."

"It was right up there." I said.

"Honest to God, Don!" Cindy exclaimed, unable to hold back. "You have solved some of the biggest crimes and taken down some of the worst criminals any County should ever have to see. You eliminated Pastor Westboro when no one else possibly could have, and you're on the verge of taking down one of the worst national white supremacy groups in this Nation's history. You've done all you can to make these people's lives better and safer, and you're the one sitting here with your back just about cut in two. And that bitch Bettina has the fucking nerve to make it sound like you are the fucking dirtbag criminal?"

"That's the Press." I said. "Totally dishonest, totally on the side of wrong. The side of right doesn't get ratings."

Cindy did not want to hear that. "Don," she said angrily, "is it really worth what you've gone through... your back, your three days of torture, your family almost killed several times... is it really worth it to go through this for that bitch reporter and people who just don't care themselves?"

"Cindy, you okay?" Teresa asked Cindy, peering at her friend. That got Cindy to take a breath and calm down a bit.

"I dunno." Cindy said dispiritedly. "I just see this guy in pain, then getting shit on by everyone."

"I appreciate what you're saying, and your feelings about it." I said. "But it's the cross we agreed to bear when we put these badges on our shirts. So... let's get to work putting criminals in prison, particularly the ones that killed Tim Burris...

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

"They're here." said Cindy at 10:00am. "Melissa Burris is in I-A, and Jeffery is in I-1. Both have their lawyers present."

"Okay." I said. "While we're talking to Melissa in I-A, have Jeffrey brought to I-B. Post extra guards as needed." Cindy left.

I went and got Joanne, Theo, Teddy and Jerome. Joanne was going to interrogate Melissa with me while the others watched in the anteroom.

Joanne and I went into I-A, where Tina Felton was waiting with her. As we sat down I said "Okay, Melissa, I am going to re-read you your rights." I did so from the card, then held the card up to the videocamera that was recording the interrogation.

"Melissa," I said, "did you volunteer for night shifts at the hotels you worked?"

"Sometimes." said Melissa. "It's quieter, easier."

"You weren't put on night shifts as punishment? For inferior work? Maybe for formal complaints against you based on racial issues?

"Trumped-up lies." said Melissa.

"Several times?" I asked. "Forcing you to move to new jobs pretty constantly and quickly?"

"Some people don't want to work when they're told to." Melissa said. "They use their race to get back at those of us who do try to work, and who ask them to actually earn their pay."

"Have you ever been a part of, or supported, groups dedicated to white supremacy?" I asked.

"No." said Melissa. "More crap made up by black employees trying to get ahead by gaming the system."

"So maybe you realize that if blacks riot and start looting, like they did in the Watts riots, you might need a prepper plan?"

"No, just Police willing to use their Government Guns to shoot the (blacks) dead." Melissa replied. Wow, I thought to myself. By the way, she didn't use the word 'blacks', there...

"I see." I said. "Okay, Melissa. No more games. No more lies. You knew about Tim's prepper shelter under the house, did you not?"

"No." said Melissa.

"Melissa," I said, "lying to Police is a Class D felony in this State, carrying up to ten years in prison. Now I think you are lying to me, and I think I can prove it to a jury."

"Do it, then." Melissa said. Tina leaned over and whispered something to her. Then Tina said "That is not an admission of guilt."

"Melissa, where were you on these dates?" I stated the various dates Tim's logs had shown him to be doing shelter tests.

"I don't remember." said Melissa.

"Come on, Melissa." I said. "You were in the shelter with Tim, weren't you?"

"If you think that, prove it."

"I will." I said. "You actually put into your divorce complaint that Tim did not provide you adequate sex. You were so pissed at him for not giving you sex that you put it in the divorce complaint! Amazing!"

"And the point is?" asked Tina Felton.

"The point is," I said, "that Tim would get so excited while doing prepper tests that that was the only time he was sexually aroused. Excuse the language, but he could not get it up any other time, which is why he had a Viagra prescription. But in that shelter, and especially with nothing else to do, he got hot and horny playing his little prepper/survival games. And since that was the only time you could get sex from your husband, Melissa, you were eager to go down there with him, so you could get him to make love to you."

Tina was in shock, but I'd seen in Melissa's eyes that I was very close to the truth, if not spot-on.

"And considering that Tim's shelter was poorly constructed and just about worthless as a real emergency shelter for more than a day or two, sex was truly the only reason you had to go down there with him."

"I've already made my statement concerning that." said Melissa, showing some brains for once. "If you think it's otherwise, you prove it."

"Oh, I will. And furthermore to this point, Melissa," I said, "we have some interesting data from the cellphone pings. Your cellphone disappeared from all cell towers in the Nation during those times Tim logged his shelter tests. That's because you forgot to leave it upstairs, and took it down there with you."

"Oh," I continued, "we have Jeffrey's statement that Tim completed his shelter about a year and a half ago, which corresponds to Tim's log entries. And you had not left your husband then. I just have trouble believing you didn't know about it... and so will a Jury."

Melissa said nothing, just shrugged her shoulders.

"Oh, one other thing." I said. "We're still going through Tim's logs. Do you think we're going to find entries that you went to the shelter with him?"

Tina leaned over and whispered something to Melissa, then said out loud to me: "If you have proof like that, get an arrest warrant and let's go to the hearing with it."

"Okay, I will. Stay here for now." I said. I got up and walked out, Joanne following.

"All right, let's go see Jeffrey again." I said. I went into Interrogation-B, finding Jeffrey with his attorney Bob Berry.

"All right, Jeffrey." I said. "Let's stop playing around. Melissa denies knowledge of Tim's shelter, she denies knowledge of his activities, she's all but putting it all on you. And you know what? You've admitted you knew about his shelter. You've admitted you were in there. You said you were an employee of the University Museum, but that's only a transient, part-time position. Your recent trip to Europe was not paid for by the University, and we will find out who did pay for it."

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