The Usual Suspects Ch. 01

"Ahhh," I said. "All the more reason to do away with Precincts."

"You catch on fast, Mr. Crowbar." said the Chief. Wow, he was really needling me today. Whassup wit' dat? I thought to myself.

"Uh oh..." said Sheriff Allgood. "Why are you smiling like that, Commander Troy?"

"Because the solution just occurred to me." I replied. "One that takes care of the Precinct issues, chain-of-command issues, makes this 'Assistant Chief' idea moot and a legal hurdle for Brownlee... and makes the future better for a whole lotta people around here."

"Don't keep us in suspense, Commander." said John Colby. "I'm already interested..."

I told them my solution. As I expected, a lot of wide eyes met mine.

"I know you are loyal to your people, Commander." said Deputy Oswald. "But are you willing to put your reputation on the line for her?"

"I already did, once before, and my faith was rewarded admirably." I said.

"You sure won't have any resistance from Malinda Adams." John Colby said, meaning it half-humorously.

The Chief was warming up to it. "Yessss... I'm starting to see the merits of this... I assume you want me to talk with Coldiron about it?"

"I would appreciate it, sir." I said. "You've worked with him far longer than I have."

"Soooooo, Mr. Crowbar..." said the Chief. "Guess what else you get to write up?"

"This one," I said, "is going to be more fun than a human being should be allowed to have. Actually, I've already written it up..."

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

"You're kidding!" said Cindy as she sat in one of my hot chairs. "That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard! You are making my job harder and my life far more difficult. This is by far the most hair-brained scheme you have ever come up with!"

"I'm glad you approve." I said evenly, leaning back in my 'Command Chair'. Cindy grinned.

"Of course I approve." she said. "That is really going to be awesome."

"Go get her. Tell her Desk Duty awaits."

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

"Come in!" Teresa said in answer to the knock on her door. "Ma'am?" she said as Cindy appeared in her small office.

"Well, he always warned you." Cindy said. "It's desk duty for sure. Come on, let's get it overwith."

"Whaa?" Teresa said, confused. She realized that there was something going on, but did not know if she was really in trouble or not...

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

"Have a seat, Lieutenant." I said. "You too, Captain." My hot chairs were quickly occupied.

"Well, Lieutenant Croyle." I said, somewhat formally. "We have a couple of problems. First is your penchant for collecting Purple Orders. Second, is Robert Brownlee trying to worm his way back onto the Force."

"Over my dead body." whispered Cindy.

"Well, I hope to prevent that." I said. "But we all have to make sacrifices to keep Brown Nose from returning. And Ms. Croyle, you will have to do your part."

"What's that, sir?" Teresa asked, still not sure what we were up to, besides no good.

"A proposal is going to be presented to the Council tomorrow night." I said. "Precincts will be reduced from three to two, or maybe even one if I am Providentially lucky. Our Precinct Captains and Lieutenants in the Uniformed Officer ranks need strong, solid leadership to guide them, teach them, discipline them, plan their operations and above all... lead them. We believe that a Captain of Operations, or some similar name, will best serve to do these things. This Captain position will also be in direct charge of the SWAT Teams and Special Ops, things like Riot Control."

I looked Teresa hard in the eyes and said: "Ms. Croyle... I perceive you to be that Captain."

Teresa was utterly shocked, and unable to speak. I worked hard not to laugh at her reaction. Cindy had to work even harder as she patted Teresa on the back. Teresa looked over at her and back to me.

"Like I said," I continued, "we all have to make sacrifices. I know you've loved working all these years in Vice, but it's time for you to step up and take this higher post for which you are not only eminently qualified, but absolutely deserve. And it will keep that shit-stain Brownlee out of our hair."

"I... I'm stunned, sir." said Teresa. "I... I don't know what to say."

"The words I expect to hear you say are 'Yes sir, I will do it.'." I replied.

"Yes sir, I will do it." Teresa replied, with just a hint of a twinkle in her eyes. "What... what about Vice?"

"They will have competent leadership, though perhaps not as good as you." I replied. I stood up and came around the desk and extended my hand. "Congratulations, Captain!".

Teresa stood up, looked up at me as she shook my hand and said "Thank you, sir." Then Cindy got up and gave her best friend a big hug...

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

"Well, Coldiron," said Chief Moynahan as Lt. Masters sat down in front of the Chief's desk. "How are things going in MCD?"

"Pretty good, sir." said 'Coldiron' Masters. "But to be honest, I never was the greatest Detective at figuring out things. Not like the Iron Crowbar, and Detective Warner is going to be way above me before long, if she's not already."

"It takes a great leader and a man of strong integrity to be able to admit such things." aid the Chief. "And you've always been that leader for me, in Midtown... and now I'll need that leadership for me here."

"Yes sir." said Masters. "What do you need me to do?"

"When you came here," said Chief Moynahan, "they put you in the Captain of Uniformed Officers slot to succeed your friend Captain Charles. Then we asked you to move laterally. Now you would normally have every expectation to be promoted and put back in the Captain slot if they recreated that post..."

"That would be great, sir." said Masters. "But it's all about the Team, and what's best for the Force, not about me."

"I'm glad to hear you say that." said the Chief. "We are going to be making some channngesss... and I would like for you to get used to the idea of being Lieutenant of the Vice Squad. It needs building up, and you'll gain even more experience for your career résumé, and if I'm a good judge of people... and I am... it'll be a more natural slot for you to fill."

"Yes sir." said Coldiron, smiling. As a man of action, Vice would suit him far better than MCD. "Uh, what is Lt. Croyle going to be doing?"

"That's where my earlier comments come in." said Moynahan. "She's going to be taking that Captain's role, and it'll be bigger than what you were doing. She's going to be in charge of Uniformed Officers, SWAT, planning raids and special operations. She's been doing that more than doing Vice already, and the Iron Crowbar is going to maximize the power of his chess pieces, so to speak. They're going to call the title 'Captain of Operations'."

"Sounds like a plan, sir." said Masters. "When does this take place?"

"Formally, November 1st, if the Council approves it." said the Chief. "But you'll be working to take over Vice almost immediately."

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

Lunch was at the Cop Bar, in the back room. Seated at the table were: myself, Teresa, Cindy, 'Coldiron', Chief Moynahan, and Lt. Molly Evans, who I had invited. Teresa was still halfway in a daze.

"Who's taking over MCD?" asked Masters.

"Captain Ross will have direct control." I said. "Not unlike Captain Malone being directly over Vice when he was here."

"C'mon, you know who's really in direct charge of MCD." Cindy replied, her eyes cutting to me.

"I think it's great!" said Molly. "And congratulations to you, Coldiron! I know you'll love doing Vice work. And we'll be collaborating on cross-county operations."

"And he'll be great at the job, too." I said. The Chief had told me that he thought Coldiron was happy about moving to Vice, and that if he (Masters) had a problem with not being promoted yet, he wasn't showing it.

"I've got a very high standard to meet." Coldiron said. "Following Lt. Croyle is like having to follow Bear Bryant as Alabama football coach."

"You'll do great." said Teresa, then added sarcastically: "And I'm sure Captain Ross will teach you how to duck."

"I could never quite get you to learn that, Lieutenant." said Cindy.

"You didn't exactly set a great example, Ms. M-O-V." retorted Teresa.

"Maybe that lesson to duck will come soon." I said cryptically. "Very soon." Teresa heard my comment and her eyes bored into me as she remembered Joe Smedley's words to her...

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

Meanwhile...

Jenna Stiles entered the small office inside City Hall, along with her campaign manager. Inside the room was D.A. Gil Krasney and his campaign manager, standing next to a small table that would be perfect for contract bridge or a chess match.

"Okay, Mr. Krasney, what is it?" Jenna asked witheringly, not bothering to go through even the machinations of shaking hands with the others.

"Thank you for coming." said Krasney. "Please, have a seat." He sat down, his campaign manager to his left. Jenna sat down opposite Krasney, her campaign manager to her left.

"I asked you to come," Krasney said, "because tensions are very high in the County regarding race... and your comments about me are not doing anything to help."

"Tough shit." said Jenna. "You treated that poor black coach, whose only crime was trying to help black kids, like he was a murderer or child molester. And we already know you'd rather help rapists get away with their crimes than do the right thing."

"Look, Paulina handled the Grimes case, and---" Krasney began.

"That's not what I'm hearing." Jenna interrupted. "I think you got her to publicly do your dirty work, and on behalf of Thomas P. Cook, who is definitely a racist. You even tried to co-opt the Iron Crowbar into doing your dirty work, but he's smarter than you and he told you to pound sand...actually he may have told you worse..."

Krasney was nonplussed that Jenna knew so much about all that. "Look, I'm not a racist and you know it. You're ratcheting up tensions needlessly. I understand this is a political race, I understand your attitudes about me regarding women. But for the sake of the County and its People, rise above the race-baiting."

"I think we're done here." Jenna said, getting up.

"Look," said Krasney. "Whatever else you want to say is fair game, but if you drop the 'racist' stuff, I'll give you your old job back when I win... and we both know I'm going to win. You can handle the civil rights cases and all that stuff if you want to, I'll make you my Special Prosecutor for just those things..."

Jenna had sat down but got up again. "Krasney, I want you to know something: if I despised you before... I despise you even more now. I do think you're a racist, and I am not going to stop letting the voters know that. And I'm going to fight like hell to whip your ass in November. And no matter what, I will never work for or with you again. You can take that job offer and shove it up your racist ass!" With that, she turned and left the room, followed by her campaign manager.

"Well, sir, you tried." said the manager.

"All right." Krasney said, the calmness of his voice belying the smoldering anger inside him. "Gloves off. We're going to bury the bitch."

Part 3 - Consultation of Burglary

2:00pm, Monday, October 3d. Cindy came into my office, and I could see that there was a tinge of excitement in her face.

"Sir, there's been a call that a burglary has taken place. Third Precinct." she said.

"Okay." I replied, wondering why this was being reported to me. "Send Officers and a CSI Team... wait. Something's up, you're entirely too excited about this. Spill it."

Cindy smiled. "You busted me. It's the home of the late Pastor Raymond Westboro, sir."

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

"Wow, they tore this place apart." I said as I looked around. The study that had once been the room where the Consultant of Crime met with his 'Sinon', and where he used his powerful mind to plot crimes was now in ruins. Gaping holes were in the wall and ceiling, insulation torn out from the outer walls. Evidence of sledgehammers having been used on the fireplace was evident. The other rooms in the house were likewise destroyed, even the attic.

"Who discovered this and called it in?" I asked.

"Burglar alarm company." said Cindy, who was prepared as always to answer that question. "We had dogs and sonar people search the house months ago, but found nothing. We had a burglar alarm system installed in July, and it's pretty much been left alone since. By law, since Westboro died instead of being arrested and convicted, and since he had no legal heirs, we have to hold the property for at least one year before we can sell it off. So cleaners come once a month, and our patrols check on it once a week."

I nodded and Cindy continued: "The alarm went off today, and we came to investigate. We're checking with the alarm company, but we have no real idea when this happened."

"You getting a vibe about this place, Captain?" I asked.

Cindy looked around, letting her energies flow, and I felt the slightest bit of it. "No." she said. "It feels completely dead... like its previous owner."

"The intruders were looking for something... looking really hard." I said as I looked around, going through the rooms.

"Money, maybe?" asked Cindy.

"I don't know." I said. "I understand that dogs who can smell the unique fabric from which money is made were brought in, as well as the drug dogs. Except for some bottles of very expensive sherry, we didn't find a thing."

"As great as dogs are," Cindy replied, "they're not perfect. They might've missed something."

"Maybe." I said. I realized Cindy was watching my eyes as I sought any kind of pattern in the damage, and she began looking also."

"Yes, my friend," I said, "the damage is systematic... left to right, top to bottom. In every room. This was an orderly search, very expertly and professionally done, and by people that were looking for something specific and expected to find it."

"Did they find anything, sir?" asked Detective Joanne Warner, who had just come up to us.

"You tell me." I replied. "You too, Captain."

"How can we tell?" asked Cindy. "They'll have taken what they found with them."

"Ohhhhhhhh..." said Joanne as she caught on. "No, Commander," she said with confidence, "they did not find what they were looking for."

"I agree." I said. "And why is that?"

"They tore the whole house up." Joanne replied. "If they'd found what they wanted, they would've stopped ripping up everything."

"That's right." I said. "You always find something in the last place you look. They might've kept going if they expected to find several bunches of whatever they were looking for... but I don't think they found anything at all..." I went into a reverie.

"Blondes with brains." Cindy said, fist-bumping Joanne. "Now for the redhead and his reveries..."

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

Cindy and I were at the office of the burglar alarm system's monitors, which was in the business district just south of Courthouse Square. I was looking at their printouts of the alarm system at the Westboro home with a practiced eye.

"Okay," I said. "Nothing but deactivations that coincide with the records of the cleaning people... until we get to this entry from six days ago." I pointed out the lines of seemingly random letters. "This letter here," I said, pointing to one, "shows a deactivation by a master code, not the normal four numbers. Done in the early morning. And it was reactivated almost twelve hours later, again by a master code and not the normal numbers."

"What does that tell us, sir?" Cindy asked.

"Not sure yet." I said.

Once we were in my SUV and driving around, I said "I didn't want to speak inside there, but let's look at all of the information. The house was torn up by people looking for something specific, very specific. It is Westboro's home; they thought it was something he might have. They had a master code to deactivate those alarms..."

"One of Julie Newton's cohorts?" Cindy asked helpfully.

"No, I don't think so." I replied. "Julie, or agents for her, would likely have known where this object of their desires was, and there would be no need to destroy the house in a search for it. And speaking of that... the search was extremely systematic, not random at all. That's a big clue there, as well."


"True." Cindy agreed. "So who's behind this?"

"The usual suspects." I replied. "The Government."

"Wow." Cindy said. "But yes, that makes perfect sense... except that the FBI wouldn't need to be secretive about it."

"No, I don't think it's the FBI." I said. "I'm thinking of more secretive people."

"Ah, I hear you." Cindy replied. "So, what's next?"

"For you, ensuring a smooth transition in the Vice leadership change." I said. "For me, going back over Police logs, to see if there are any other burglaries like the one at the Westboro house."

"Think it's happened before?" Cindy asked.

"And likely that it will happen again." I replied. And no more would I say as I parked in the HQ parking lot...

Part 4 - Seeking Council

Tuesday, October 4th. 10:00am. Thomas P. Cook looked up in total shock to see who was entering his office. It was Your Iron Crowbar, and I was alone. Cindy was waiting outside, at my request.

"What do you want, Troy?" asked Cook warily as he continued working on the papers on his desk.

"I'm from the Government," I replied, "and I'm here to help you."

Cook looked up. "Cute." he said. "Why are you really here?"

"No, seriously," I said, "I'm here to help you. I understand you've bought the Wargrave Estate."

"Yeah, what of it?" Cook asked.

"I have reason to believe that Mr. Wargrave's former home might come under an intrusion from a group of criminals." I said. "I would suggest you lock your doors at night, use your burglar alarms, and if someone does try to break in, call 9-1-1 and get the Police there immediately."

"Why would anyone target me?" Cook asked. "Besides you in your fantasies of me being some sort of criminal."

"I have no need to fantasize about that." I said. "But it may not be you being targeted, but the house itself. And these perps are dangerous; they might just kill you if you stumble onto them. Have a nice day, Mr. Cook."

With that, I turned to go. "What's this all about, Troy?" Cook called out after me.

I looked back and said "Just a precaution, Mr. Cook. Just a precaution..."

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

"All right, the Council is now in Executive Session." said the Mayor as the Council went to their places in the private Council Chamber... the room where the redoubtable Bowser had exposed the Consultant of Crime. It was 7:45pm that Tuesday evening.

"We have a couple of proposals from the Police Force on the table tonight." said the Mayor. "One of them needs to be acted upon quickly, as promotions are coming on November 1st."

"Why can't this wait until after the Election?" snarled Thomas P. Cook. "Why is this being railroaded through now?" He could see what was going on.

"We're here to do the People's business now, not later." said Dagmar Schoen. "What is your problem with that, Mr. Cook?"

"Pastor Westboro's constituents are not represented right now." said Cook. "We should wait until their elected voice can be heard."

"Westboro should have thought about that before he became the worst criminal in a century." replied Edward Steele, who hated even the memory of Westboro with a special passion, knowing that Westboro had used Angela Harlan to try to destroy Edward's daughter Selena.

"Folks, I want to get home before sunrise." said the Mayor. "Okay, the first proposal is a structural change to the Police Department. An Operations Division will be created, which will encompass all Uniformed Officers, oversee all Precincts, oversee the SWAT Teams, any Special Operations and tactical deployments. The title of the leader will be 'Captain of Operations', and filled by a full Captain."