The Usual Suspects Ch. 02

"I'm sure Jack Muscone would not have told Lynch a thing." Cindy said. "Nor would you... unless you have something sneaky up your sleeve."

"No, Scout's Honor it wasn't me." I said. "And by the process of elimination, that leaves...."

"The State Attorney." said Paulina. "But why?"

"He's a lazy ass bum." I said. "He doesn't want to try this case at all. He wants it to go away. So he'll probably not fight Lynch's motions, and Ken. Will. Walk."

"No way in hell!" Paulina exclaimed. She got up and stormed out the door, quickly saying goodbye along the way.

Part 7 - Smoke and Mirrors

Wednesday, October 5th, 5:00pm.

"Okay, we're finally starting to get some money in." Jenna Stiles said as she sat with her Campaign Manager and three remaining volunteers at the table in her Campaign Office. "We've paid for this place through the Election, we've paid bills and distributed what we could in back pay. We've got a little bit for advertising. So, let's plan our homestretch strategy."

"Ladies, I don't know about any of you," said the Campaign Manager, "but I really want to just go 'scorched earth' on Krasney. Win or lose, let's leave nothing on the Campaign Room floor, so to speak."

"I'm already doing that." said Jenna. "Here's my question: what's working better? the racial angle? or the misogyny angle?"

"Race." said one of the volunteers. "With respect, ma'am... to be honest, the women's issue just hasn't been resonating. It doesn't get any men, and it doesn't get nearly as many women as you might expect. But race? We're up tremendously with the Black vote, and doing better with the Hispanic vote, as well. Painting Krasney as the racist he is, is what's working for us."

*BUZZZZZZZZZ-ZOOOMMMMMMM!*

The sound they'd just heard was of a motorcycle speeding by the Campaign Headquarters window.

"Wow, that sounded like he was practically on the sidewalk." Jenna said. She'd noticed someone on a motorcycle speed by... male, in a tan jacket, darker brown pants, black motorcycle helmet. "Okay, let's get back to------"

*BUZZZZZZZZZ-ZOOOMMMMMMM!*

*CRASH!*

"GAS!" yelled one of the women as purple smoke billowed through the room, coming from whatever had been thrown through the glass window, shattering it.

"Get out of here!" yelled Jenna. The women ran toward the brightest haze in the smoke-filled room, and came to the front door...

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

The Campaign Headquarters was roped off with crime scene tape. Officers were keeping the curious crowds at bay. Though it was rush hour, this location was not on a busy street, and it was not hard to close the street and force cars to detour.

Captain Cindy Ross and Detective Joanne Warner were inside, along with Sergeant Rudistan, Sr. Patrolman Morton, the TCPD Crime Lab team and the Fire Department's Arson team, which also investigated bombings. I was just outside, looking around the neighborhood.

John Hardwood came up with a two-camera team. How he'd gotten through the Police cordon, I did not know... but would soon be finding out, I promised myself. Hardwood said "What are you looking up at the sky for, Troy? The bombs are inside."

"How do you know that, Hardwood?" I replied, just a little too quietly and evenly. "Did you throw them in there yourself?"

"Wha?! Of course not." said Hardwood. "But shouldn't you be inside investigating the bombing?"

"And you think you know better than me how I should do my job, butthead?" I snarled back, knowing the media microphones would not be picking that up with my device full-on. "My own counsel will I keep on how I solve this case."

"All right, guys, let's roll." said Hardwood. The cameras were switched on, and Hardwood began speaking. "This is John Hardwood, KSTD Five-Alive News. We are at the scene of the bombing of Stiles Campaign Headquarters, and Police Commander Troy is at the scene. Commander, do you have any suspects?"

"Why, yes I do." I said. "White male, about 5'10" in height, medium build, graying hair... and recently changed jobs from one news network to another."

Hardwood looked like he was going to explode as he yelled "Cut!" He turned to me and snarled "Are you actually accusing me of this bombing?"

"Time will tell, Mr. Hardwood." I said. Getting bored with toying with the arrogant reporter, I went inside.

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

There was a fine sprinkling of purple dust all over the place, and one shattered window, but otherwise there was no real damage in the Headquarters office. Jenna and her staff were shaken up, but not harmed.

"Sir," said Cindy, coming up to me, "we have a description of the motorcyclist as male, mid-size, medium build, wearing a tan jacket and darker brown pants. Motorcycle is a bigger model, maybe a Harley, all black. I've already called Myron to start collecting and processing film footage of the street, and Franklin Washington is getting the warrant to support that."

"Cool beans." I said. "But why Franklin? Why not Paulina?"

Cindy said "I couldn't reach her on the phone, so I just went to Plan (F)ranklin." I nodded.

"How's Jenna?" I asked.

"She's okay. Pissed, more than anything." Cindy replied. "She's talking to Joanne, and I'm letting that happen and just supervising."

"Good." I said. "Okay, call Jack Muscone or someone on his team. If the SBI's Bureau of Firearms and Explosives (BFE) tries to come in, tell them they are not invited to any Crowbar parties, including this one..."

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

It was 6:30pm, and Police Headquarters's Classroom 'J' contained Chief Moynahan, me, Cindy Ross, 'Coldiron' Masters, Teresa Croyle, Della Harlow, Joanne Warner, FBI Special Agents Martin Nash, Sandra Speer, Eduardo Escobar, and Jack Muscone... who had brought pizzas.

The SBI's BFE did try to come in, and Carter Fischer brought Agent Andy 'Dog' Redmond and SBI Lt. Bob Bohrmann to Headquarters. I had told the Duty Desk to keep them out, but Chief Moynahan told me we had to let them in. When they saw the FBI there, tensions grew immediately.

"Okay," said Moynahan, "let's lay some ground rules here. You SBI Agents are here at my personal courtesy and the Governor's personal request. We have not invited you to be a part of this investigation, and neither of the people with crowbars in this room want you here."

"This was a bombing of a political headquarters." said Bohrmann. "The SBI BFE should be part of the investigating team. I don't understand the hostility towards us, here or anywhere else."

'It's the first three letters of your bureau's name." I said. "S-B-I. I don't trust you, I don't trust your Director, and I think your organization is incompetent."

"We know how good you are, Commander Troy." said Bohrmann. "So you're one of the few people in this State that can say that to my face. But I'm not Dick Ferrell, and I and my people are good at what we do. We're here to help... if you'll let us."

"Don't say it Mr. Crowbar." said Moynahan, knowing exactly what was about to come out of my potty mouth. Cindy stifled a laugh as she saw me roll my eyes.

"Chief, why is the FBI here?" asked Agent Redmond. He was not tall but was big and stocky, a bit like Jack Muscone. "No offense, but this isn't a national office campaign headquarters, nor does it cross State lines."

"They're here," said Moynahan, "for the same reasons you claim to be: they are experts on crimes such as these, we work with them frequently due to our proximity to the State Line, and to be honest, Agent Redmond... we like them more than we like you." The silence that ensued was most very uncomfortable.

"Okayyyyy," said Moynahan, "Captain Ross, what do we have on this?"

Cindy described what had happened, and the description of the motorcyclist. "We have secured a lot of camera footage of the area, and it's being processed. We're procuring more footage as we learn the motorcyclist's path to and from the scene of the crime. The license place of the motorcycle is obscured."

"Is that by the same methods as Newton's motorcycle?" Sandra Speer asked.

"Who is Newton?" asked Bohrmann.

"We'll discuss that in time." I said. "For now, just roll with it." I nodded at Cindy to keep going.

"Here's the deal on that, as you FBI guys know." Cindy said. "When we captured Newton's motorcycle, the FBI studied that refractive material on the license plate to see if they could create algorithms to defeat it. Your people are working on this footage now, but with limited success. They think it's a similar material, but constructed in a different way. We're going to have to be adaptive."

"Do you think this motorcyclist is related to Newton or Westboro in any way?" asked Eduardo Escobar. All eyes turned to me.

"No way to know yet." I said. "There are some similarities in that license plate masking, and also in this method of quick attack; some of you might remember that bozo that tried to assassinate me outside the tailor shop. But if it's anyone truly associated with the Westboro Syndicate? That remains to be seen."

"I know we're behind the power curve on this Westboro business." said Bohrmann, "but are you guys suggesting that this is not related to Ms. Stiles's campaign headquarters, that it's not a politically-motivated attack on her?"

"Lieutenant Bohrmann," I said, "we are not suggesting anything. We are groping for data right now so that we can formulate theories. Obviously it relates to Jenna Stiles and her campaign, as it was her headquarters that was attacked."

"She's been blasting Krasney as a racist lately." said Della Harlow. "You think this is some sort of retaliation?"

"I don't think Krasney has it in him to do something like that." Cindy said.

"I agree." I said. "I'm not ruling out a Krasney supporter, though."

"Sir," said Joanne Warner, "may I say something?"

"Of course, Detective." I said. Get a backbone Joanne! I thought silently to myself.

"Well, sir," said Joanne, "this wasn't much of an attack on Ms. Styles. These smoke generators can be bought publicly. The University uses blue one when their football team runs onto the field; the cheerleaders even carry them in their hands when they run out, while the fireworks are smoking. They're not explosive and they're not dangerous."

"How do you know that?" asked SBI Agent Redmond.

"This is why I don't like working with you SBI jerks." I said forcefully. "My Detective is making a point. Shut your mouth and let her make it." The SBI Agents's eyes flashed anger, but they held their tongues.

Chief Moynahan interjected: "The Crime Lab report confirms what Detective Warner is saying. These were just little smoke generators that huff and puff and don't blow anything down. They do create a mess, though. You were saying, Detective?"

"Yes sir, that was what I was saying." Joanne said. "These weren't explosives meant to physically harm the people inside. It's like it was just a warning, or just harassment."

"Good thought, Detective." I said. "Even so, let's step up our presence and coverage at all public political events."

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

As the meeting was concluded, SBI Lt. Bohrmann came up to me and said "Commander, may I speak with you privately? Perhaps in your office?"

"Okay." I said. We went down the hallway. As we went, I heard Agent Redmond say to his boss "Newton was that Detective that was Westboro's 'Sinon', his mole inside the TCPD." Bohrman nodded and told Redmond to check in with the FBI Agents. When we got to my office and went in, Cindy of course followed us in, as was expected of her.

"Er, Commander, I was hoping to speak with you alone." said Bohrmann, seeing my Captain's presence.

"You may say anything in front of Captain Ross that you would say to me." I replied. "If that is not acceptable, then there's the door; don't let it hit you in the ass on the way out of here."

"Er, okay." said Bohrmann. "Why don't we sit down and------"

"This is my office, Bohrmann." I said with authority. "I am the one who decides who sits down, not you. And I have not invited you to sit down."

"Okay." said Bohrmann, getting testy. "I have tried hard, Commander, to ignore your blatant hostility of the SBI and your rudeness to me and my Agent today. What do you have against me?"

"Who do you work for?" I asked.

"The SBI. You know that------"

"That's right!" I said harshly. "You are part of the State Bureau of Investigation. When you lie with those dogs, you have their fleas. I consider your organization and it's Director to be corrupt, with no redeeming value."

"Look, Commander, I know there are bad people in the SBI, but I'm not one of them. I'm trying to do my job, and------"

"You see that drawing there?" I thundered, pointing at the drawing of me by Gunny Guernica's son. "That was drawn by the child whose U.S. Marine father was brutally blown away, shot dead, by your fellow SBI Agents. In addition, one of your fellow SBI Agents tried to murder me. So maybe I'm feeling just a little bit personal about it."

"There's bad blood on both sides." said Bohrmann. "FBI Agent Muscone assaulted Dick Ferrell. You nearly killed Chaplain Ikea, albeit for hitting your mother. And then there's that machine gun attack------"

"Yeah, when your SBI Agents were purposefully trying to kill some of my TCPD Officers." I said. "Bohrmann, I do have one regret about that machine gun attack: if I had to do it over, I would've killed every single SBI Agent that was there. I regret letting them live, and I won't make that mistake again if they come into my County unannounced again."

Bohrmann just stared at me, gaping.

"That's right, Bohrmann," I said, seeing the look on the man's face, "I regret not killing your fellow Agents. Now if you don't like how I feel about your Agency and it's people, then you can go fuck yourself along with the rest of them."

"So why did you become part of the SBI Reserve?" asked Bohrmann, and I sensed he was more curious than anything else about it.

"At the time," I said, "my Chief wanted me to. And I did think that I might be able to help clean up some of the deep corruption rotting the SBI from within, from its core. Now... I think the SBI is irredeemably corrupt, and will remain that way until it's dissolved by the State Legislature. Now if you say you're not one of them, prove it: resign from the SBI, find employment with another agency, perhaps the FBI, and maybe then I'll believe you're not as dirty as they are."

Bohrmann looked at Cindy, whose ice blue eyes showed whose side she was firmly upon. "Okay, Commander," he said. "I won't argue. But some of us in the SBI are good, and are working to clean up the mess. Give us a chance, and maybe even help us. We want things to be right just as much as you do."

"Have a good evening, Lieutenant." I said. "Captain, escort Lieutenant Bohrmann to the Duty Desk, where he can sign out and go home."

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

Coming back in, Cindy said "He seems genuinely confused by you. And may I speak freely?"

"Sure." I said, sitting down. "Oh, and have a seat. The office owner approves."

"Yeah, that was a bad breach on his part." Cindy said, sitting on the sofa. "But sir... he is partly right: he may just be doing his job, and you were bearing down on him like a freight train coming out of the mountain passes. Do you really need to be so harsh on every SBI Agent?"

I nodded. "Valid point. Let me ask... did you hear what his assistant Redmond told him about Julie?"

"Yes sir, he said she was the traitor in our midst."

"More specifically, what did you hear?"

"Uh, oh.... he called her Westboro's 'Sinon'."

"That's right." I said. "Now to whom did we really discuss Ms. Newton's code name?"

"Er, nobody." Cindy said. "I get the drift... how did Redmond know that?"

"Yes." I said. "Good observing and deducing. Bohrmann may be clean and want to clean things up, but his own lapdog gave himself away. The SBI is chock-full of stupid idiots, as well as corrupt bastards. They can't help but give themselves away."

Just then, the Duty Desk Sergeant came to the door. "Commander, KSTD Reporter John Hardwood is in the Press Room. He wants you to come down for an in-person, on-camera interview."

"How did he ask?" I asked.

"He just said 'Have Commander Troy come down for an in-person, on-camera interview.'." said the Sergeant.

I looked at Cindy, then back to the Sergeant and said "Sergeant, return to the Duty Desk. Do not tell Hardwood anything; don't say a word to him. Don't tell him I'm coming down or not coming down. Let him sit and spin."

The Sergeant grinned and excused himself and left. Cindy was trying not to laugh, then she said "What has gotten in Hardwood's bonnet about you, sir? He's been a real tool, lately. Even got himself fired from KXTC."

"Yeah, I know." I said. "The party never stops in our Town & County, Cindy. And it's always the Usual Suspects stirring the pot..."

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

9:30pm. Cindy came into my office, though I had just told her to go home.

"The Chief is still in his office." she said. "The light is on and I can see his shadow."

"I know." I said. "He's been on the phone pretty much since that meeting broke up earlier tonight. I'm not sure what about."

"Sir, what do you really think about the attack on Jenna today?" Cindy asked.

I looked at her, seeing that this was a question of a personal nature, not a professional one. "I don't know what to think, at least not yet." I said, not trying the 'not enough data' dodge and weave tactic. "Krasney issued a statement deploring the attack, complete with the usual political platitudes about subverting our democratic processes. And like you said today, I just don't think he has it in him to try something like that, nor to order anyone to try something like that."

"I talked to Myron and Mary." Cindy said. "The motorcyclist went west, towards the River, after the attack, but was soon lost in traffic. The Precincts are putting out word to all the patrols." I nodded in acknowledgement.

Then the door opened and the Chief looked in. "You two are still here?" he asked.

"Yes sir. As are you." I said. The Chief chuckled.

"Well, I'm going home." he said. "Would you two care to join me at the Irish Pub for a post-day li-bay-tion?"

"Sir, can I take a raincheck?" I asked. "I have to get home and tuck in some kids."

"I'll take you up on that, Chief." Cindy said. "I need a drink after this day..."

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

"Daddy!" cried out Carole as I came into her bedroom. She was just being put into bed by her mother. "Can I read you a book, Daddy?" Yep, trying to stay awake, she was.

"Why don't we do that tomorrow, Sweetie?" I replied. Bowser had come up to me and I was petting him while talking to Carole. "You get some sleep, and I'll take Bowser out."

"Okay. Nite Daddy! Nite Bowser!" Carole said. I kissed her forehead and collected Bowser. Jim was already asleep, so I just collected Buddy and took him and Bowser outside. I asked Laura to join me, and we sat on the patio while the dogs did their business.

"Honey," I said, "how did my blood tests come out?"

"So far, so good." Laura said. "A bit of extra testosterone after we have sex, but that's no surprise. You had a bit more adrenalin in your bloodstream when you woke up out of that dream the other night. All other times, everything's been normal."

"Good." I said. "By the way, and please do tell me straight out: is the Company looking for any more of Ned's drugs?"

"Not that I know of." said Laura. "But it's funny you should ask. Jack's boss with the FBI asked me the same question after Westboro's home was ransacked and Wargrave's was invaded. He thinks someone is after something."