Shipping and Handling Ch. 04

"How well did you know him, Seth?" I asked.

"Not well at all." said Seth. "Before my dad's murder... my stepdad's, that is... the story is that Wilson beat up Aunt Katherine, and Dad went over there with a couple of guys and got some practice in for the Police Boxing Matches, as Joanne would say."

I grinned. "Ah, she's told you about those, has she?"

"She's been working out to get ready for them, too." Seth said. Joanne again nodded vigorously in agreement.

"Oops, my secret is out." Joanne admitted. "I was going to give Commander Troy some surprise 'shock and awe'."

"Leo," I said to the dog as I petted him, "your mom here has no idea of what 'shock and awe' is in the Boxing Matches." Leo just looked up at me. I gave him more skritchins.

I then said "And speaking of 'mom', I perceive that you guys are doing some packing around here."

"He already had figured out I'm pregnant, honey." Joanne said to Seth. "In fact, he set up my appointment with Dr. Fredricson."

"I've heard nothing gets past him." Seth said. To me he said: "Yes sir, we took the option on the property next to Mayor Allgood and his wife Melina's place, and we're starting to build a home there."

"Excellent!" I said. "The views from the mountainside are really great, all the way around. And congratulations on the baby on the way. So... you haven't heard from David Wilson at all?"

"No sir," said Seth, "and my dad pretty much lost track of him after kicking his ass and getting Aunt Katherine an apartment. Last I heard, he was in the City, but that was back when you solved my dad's murder."

"By the way," I said casually, as if it were an afterthought, "have you heard from your Aunt Katherine lately?"

"No sir." said Seth. "She didn't even contact me when Mom died." (Author's note: 'Women's Work', Ch. 03.) "I did hear that she left the United States, maybe for Europe, but I never tried to confirm it."

"What about your sister Karen?" I asked. Seth smiled a strange smile.

"I don't know where she is, either." said Seth. "She was in California for a while, then I heard she was doing something with our grandfather's shady companies from somewhere in the Caribbean."

"You think Seth's aunt might've hooked up with his sister?" Joanne asked me, but in reality asking her husband that.

"I don't know, sweetheart." Seth said to Joanne. "Aunt Katherine did not like Karen at all, and Karen didn't care much for Aunt Katherine. I'd be surprised if they even knew where each other was, much less were working together."

I nodded. "Probably not. But the two of you need to be careful. Joanne, did you talk to Seth about the prison escapes?"

"No sir." said Joanne. "We don't bring our work home. And I didn't have any details on that, anyway."

"True enough." I said. "So I need to tell you both that not only has your Aunt Katherine's ex-husband shown up, but the people that helped Jimmy Tolson and George Aurus escape from prison also tried to get Alicia Foster out... and she had connections to DynaCorp. So y'all be careful."

I gave a very content Leo some final skritchins, then put him on the floor before I got out of the chair. After some final chit-chat, I left the Warner home with some interesting thoughts in my head...

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

Midnight, becoming Saturday, March 30th. The Teacher and his entourage moved through the underground tunnels towards Sharpton Elementary. Very few people knew that a connecting tunnel led under the junkyard that was The Teacher's domain. Fewer people knew that the tunnel near Sharpton Elementary had been used to house Agents of the Law during the massive Marcie Harper drug bust. (Author's note: 'Schoolhouse Rock', Ch. 06.)

"Can't believe that cracker is making me fucking do this." whispered The Teacher to his lead bodyguard. "It damn well better be worth it."

"This could be our chance to cap that cracker." said the bodyguard.

"That would be stupid. It would be worse than stupid." said The Teacher. "But watch out for a trap. If the bastard wants to arrest me, he'll pay in Police blood."

They went up the stairs, which led to the kitchen storeroom of Sharpton Elementary. Coming out, his bodyguards used small devices that looked like rangefinders, but could see infrared images.

"Just one person, in that classroom." said the lead bodyguard. "This guy seriously cannot have come alone."

"You jamming the radio frequencies?" asked the second bodyguard.

"Yeah, but who knows what passive microphones he has on him." said the lead bodyguard.

They came to the classroom and peered inside, seeing children's desk and a teacher's desk in the utter dark. The Teacher walked inside.

"Class is in session!" said a jovial voice. "The Teacher has arrived." With that and a click, a lamp against the far wall came on, revealing Your Iron Crowbar sitting in one of the student seats.

"What the hell is this about, I.C.?" asked The Teacher.

"Have a seat, please." I said. "At our last meeting, you discussed the value of education. That's why I'm here. I need to learn some things." (Author's note: 'Little Red Haired Girl', Ch. 02.)

"Uh huh." said The Teacher. "What's in it for me?"

"Your name kept out of any consideration in the murder of that truck driver Thursday." I said.

"I had nuthin' to do wit' dat, Cracker!" The Teacher exclaimed.

"I know." I said. "And if you give me a few minutes of your immensely valuable time, it'll stay that way."

The Teacher finally sat down in a student desk, three seats forward of me. His bodyguard stayed outside the door, but looked in warily. "All right, I.C. What do you want to know?"

"Just some general, off-the-record information on how professional fencing works around here." I said. "Particularly if someone steals a truckload of people's furniture being moved."

"You really think I'm going to tell you how I operate?" The Teacher asked, his voice incredulous.

"Of course not." I said. "Just hypothetical. Nothing to do with you at all. And no, I'm not recording anything; I'm not the God-cursed Media."

"All right." said The Teacher. "But you're gonna owe me one."

"And this is the payment." I said. "In our last conversation, you discussed Paco Domingo coming into our County. Well, he's dead, but his buddies are coming in behind him, and they have strong desires to hurt you and your people. Their names are Trent Ridge and Quint Starr. They're ex-Special Forces, and they enjoy killing, especially black entrepreneurs like yourself."

"The second and last part of the payment," I said, "is that you have competition. SPS, the delivery company, has been using their trucks to smuggle stuff around the State, including around here. The guy who was murdered the other day may have tried to break away from them, and do business with locals, and he was executed for it. If you can get on the inside of them, have at them. Otherwise, be wary of any of their guys wanting to do business with you. They might get killed... and so might your guys."

The Teacher nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I know that SPS is nothing more than a front, and they're some bad shit nigga-hatin' crackers. I don't know anything about this Trent Ridge and Quint Starr."

"I'll get some photos to you." I said. "They're white, clean-cut, military types, and they're more dangerous than any snake in the grass sneaking up on you."

"All right, what do you want to know?" asked The Teacher.

"How do professionals dispose of big-ticket items, like furniture and major appliances?" I asked.

"Bunch o' ways." said The Teacher. "Now I personally don't like to get a full truckload of furniture. But if I did, I'd first make sure there were no names or identifying marks anywhere on the furniture, then I'd make sure it was scattered. Sofa sent to Southport, dining room set to Midtown, and so on. Pawnshops, secondhand furniture stores, places like that."

"Appliances would be sold secondhand, then resold to people who can't afford the new stuff at BrandSmart." said the Teacher. "If they're in bad shape, they can be stripped down for parts, and we get a little money that way."

"Working backwards," I said, "someone takes a truckload of stuff. What do they do? Who do they contact to sell it?"

"Usually they have their own operation." said The Teacher. "Some punks at the University tried a scam like that a while back. They got caught when the contact they made was an undercover cop. Very stupid. And if someone contacted me about taking a truckload off their hands, I'd give 'em the address of the Police Station, since I figure it'd be you trying to set me up, I.C."

"Like I got time to play those games." I said witheringly. "So anyone taking a truck of stuff would have their own warehouse, then distribute the stuff piecemeal?"

"That's one way to do it." said The Teacher. "With SPS, they got trucks of all sizes. And their trucks can be faked, as can U.S. Mail trucks. The risk is that the D.O.T. pulls them over and asks the driver for his CDL. He's shit outta luck if that happens."

The Teacher then looked at me and said "You don't know all this shit already, I.C.?"

"I know most of it, in general." I said. "I was just curious how these fake SPS guys are doing it... and what they might be trying to import into our County."

"I.C., you know I don't fuck with drugs, shit like that." said The Teacher. "I'm small-time just making a livin'. But I do hear things, and one thing I hear is that those SPS trucks do have drugs in them. Nothing like what Marcie Harper was bringing in... geez! that was a massive operation!... but the SPS guys can generally transport what they want, and they'll pay the bribes to keep the State Patrol and D.O.T. off their asses."

"Okay, then." I said. "You think this dead guy was the result of a drug transport gone bad? Someone waylaid him, killed him, took drugs off the truck?"

"I dunno." said The Teacher. "But that don't sound right. If it were me, I'd have left the body on the other side of the County line. Taking on the Iron Crowbar like that, that was stupid. Or it was deliberate, like spitting in your face, I.C."

His words struck me. "I appreciate the information." I said. I got out my Police iPhone and sent photos of Trent and Quint to The Teacher. "If you see these guys, call me or your nephew. If you've seen them, they probably have seen you first, and they'll be trying to carve you up."

"We'll be all right." said The Teacher. He got up to go. As he neared the door, he said "Whoever's got your back, they're hiding very well. We haven't picked 'em up yet."

"And you won't, unless you or your people try something dumb." I said. Then I added, my voice almost a whisper: "There be ninja here."

"Yeah, I heard you got people like that." said The Teacher. "The Clan of the Crowbar. And I sure don't wanna fuck with shit like that. Let's try to never meet again, I.C. Ever."

"Au revoir." I replied emphatically. After some moments, I got up and walked out of the classroom and down the hall to the back parking lot. My Police SUV was parked in the deep shadows near the back loading dock, and it was still there.

It's nice to have my reputation, I thought to myself. Truth be told, I had no ninja nor anyone else backing me up. I went in there alone, all alone. But the fear that I did have that kind of backup kept The Teacher's bodyguards from trying to kill me. Nice to have my reputation...

Part 15 - The Flatfoot Grind

Saturday, March 30th. At 8:00am, people fortified themselves with coffee and began assembling in Classroom 'J'. We needed the extra space because we were going to have extra Officers helping us today. Lieutenants Rudistan and Irwin had volunteered to help question the now-BigAgraFoods employees as well as others connected to SPS or SMS that had filed insurance claims with BigBenefitInsurance, and we'd brought in some others, like Sergeants DeLong and Morton, and Corporals Hicks and Gunddottar.

"Okay, guys." I said as I addressed the gathering. "We're getting a lot of good support from the LEOs in the various jurisdictions, especially the City, so be courteous and be professional. If the people we want to talk to ask for lawyers, let them get lawyers, but don't let them waste your time, either. And if they start giving you trouble, don't administer crowbar beatdowns. Be professional as you call me and let me know what's going on."

I continued: "Detective Warner has been pulled for other assignments, so I'm going to ask Detectives Rodriguez and Parker to work with Detective Hannum to re-interview the Farrises. Okay, Captain Perlman will have your assignments. Be safe out there."

As everyone got up to go, Captain Perlman came in. "Lieutenant Mahoney-Milton will give out the assignments. Commander Troy, can I talk to you for a moment?"

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

I let Tanya precede me into my office, having no desire to be run over by a wheelchair being driven at high speed. Once I sat down in my comfortable Command Chair, I said "It must be big. Whassup?"

"I got a call from E.J. Jefferson of the City Police." Tanya said. "They found four bodies in the Badlands, not far from the Airport, in a dumpster behind a warehouse. One of them was identified by fingerprints as Clarence Meadows."

"Oh, wow." I said. "Who were the other three?"

Tanya gave me the names, which I did not recognize. She then said "They were all black, and their home addresses were near Meadows's. Two of them had rap sheets, but all petty stuff. The fourth one had some outstanding warrants for some serious drug distribution charges. They're doing DNA tests as well as checking for drug use."

"How did they die?" I asked.

"They were shot, execution-style, in the back of the head." Tanya replied. "Small caliber entry wounds, no exit wounds. They were found face-down, with their hands zip-tied behind them." I nodded thoughtfully.

"After getting the information," Tanya said, "I ran the names to see if anything popped up that would relate to our current cases. The other three guys had no connections to SPS, SMS, or BigAgraFoods. Then I called Team Lazarus in the City. I guess Martin Nash had nothing to do but twiddle his thumbs, because he sent me an email within just a few minutes of my phone call. The guy with the heavy drug distribution charges has Federal warrants out on him, but nothing else of interest came up. I forwarded you the email and everything I found out about them."

"Thanks." I said. "Stay here a moment, and listen as I make this phone call." I dialed City Police Detective E.J. Jefferson's number, and he answered.

"I'm putting you on speaker, E.J." I said. I did so, then said "I have Captain Perlman with me. Anything new on Clarence Meadows?"

"Not yet, Commander." said Jefferson.

"This might help you out." I said. "Go to the homes of all four men you found dead. See if there are signs of a struggle at any one of them. If not, see if you can find out if they were at a bar or some place together. I think Meadows's car was found near a bar. See if you can find if anything... 'exciting'... happened while they were there."

"We sent their cellphone numbers to the FBI," said E.J., "to see if they can trace where these guys were. Any ideas on why they were all killed?"

"Meadows was part of our investigation, and he disappeared." I said. "My current theory is that the other three might have been unlucky enough to be with him when a professional hit team came and got him, and the pros killed them all just to leave no loose ends." After a few more words of conversation, we disconnected.

"By the way," I said to Tanya, "be sure to ask Jack about what the FBI found regarding those cellphones."

Tanya peered at me, then said she would. Then she said "There's one other thing I wanted to bring up with you, sir. I know your aversion to working with State Law Enforcement of various types, but I'm wondering if we're not hurting ourselves by not being part of the SRIC network."

I peered at my Captain of Detectives. "So you want to share all of our information with them, which is the price of being part of their network?" I asked.

"I don't know the ins-and-outs of it, sir." Tanya said. "But Bell and Hannum are getting information that might've slipped by us by using the SRIC. I'm no fan of the SBI nor the Regional Director for this area, and I understand you don't want them prying into our systems, but the databases are there."

"And we can't have Myron hack into them if we need to?" I asked.

"When I was in charge of all the State Crime Labs," Tanya said, "I did not like it at all that we could be hacked, and I didn't like that attack on the TCPD systems we just had. I know Myron doesn't abuse the privilege, but I'd rather him not have to do anything extracurricular, sir."

I nodded. "We'll talk more about it later." I said. "Let's get going. Oversee the deployments to serve the warrants and interrogate these BigAgraFoods bastards."

"On my way, sir." Tanya said, putting her wheelchair into motion. As she left, Cindy came in behind her. "You got a minute, Don?" she asked.

"For you, always." I said as she came on in and closed the door behind her. I had her sit down.

"A couple of things." said the Green Crowbar. "I just found out that the APBs we put out on Jeff Farley and his alter ego of Andy Lessing... were canceled."

"What?" I said, my voice a gasp. "Who did that?"

"The FBI... the City Office, to be precise." Cindy replied. "And there's more." She took out her cellphone, which I noted was her personal cellphone, not her Police iPhone. She made a call. "Tim? This is Cindy Ross. I'm going to put you on speaker." She did so, then said "I have Commander Troy here with me." as she put the phone down on my desk so that we could both hear.

"Hi, Don." said FBI Special Agent Tim Jenkins.

"Hi, Tim." I said. "You in Southport?"

"Yes." said Tim.

"Tim," said Cindy, "tell Commander Troy what you told me."

"Sure." said Jenkins. "Don, Cindy asked me to look up Jeff Farley, under that name as well as his 'Andy Lessing' alias. I was able to get some data, but while I was working on it, I got a call to cease and desist all inquires about Farley under any names."

"Who told you to do that?" I asked, noting that Cindy was 'looking' at me hard.

"The call came from Jack Muscone himself." Tim said. "He told me that they were handling Farley up there in the City, and for me to completely back away from it. His voice was as authoritative as I've ever heard him to be."

"Did he say why?" I asked.

"No, and I didn't ask." said Jenkins.

"Okay, thanks for letting us know. I said. Cindy disconnected the call.

"So what did he tell you even though he was not supposed to?" I asked.

Cindy smiled. "I figured you'd realize that." she said. "He told me a couple of things. First, after you exposed Bundy McGinty, the FBI's version of Internal Affairs went back and reviewed Les Craig's investigation of McGinty, and found that Craig's notes, which were not released to the public, relied very heavily on Farley. Craig and Farley met several times, and I doubt they were toasting the Queen's good health." I grinned at that one.

"The second thing Tim told me," said Cindy, "is that Farley pretty much kept the 'Andy Lessing' identity once he assumed it, but that he didn't drive Truck 164 all that often. He drove a route between Southport and our Town & County a lot more often. The key takeaway is that Farley has very likely been part of this obvious smuggling ring within SPS for some time."

"That would fit with Farley and Les Craig being tight." I said. "Craig was assigned to Southport for a long time. And I agree that the McGinty case and this one is exposing the 'Dark Side' of Edward Blassingame's company."

"Don, let's not ignore the 800-pound elephant in the room." Cindy said. "Why did Jack Muscone, of all people, force Tim to back down? And they, meaning the Feds, have tried to stop us from pursuing the case. I don't know about you, but the ID issue seems like a thin one to me."