Time Flies Ch. 03

"I don't blame you." I said. "What about the other two guys, Merkle and Ripley?"

"Their phones are shut off, and I couldn't turn them on." Myron said. "And they haven't pinged off any tower in the tri-State region up here for several hours. The last pings we got triangulated to the old Post Office Building behind the Federal Building. We know the Feds use that building sometimes as a staging area or annex."

I nodded. "Okay, so Merkle and Ripley are undercover, I would guess. Did you ping James Hamm's cellphone?"

"Yes sir." said Myron. "It's at the Campus Sanitation Department, probably his office. It hasn't moved for hours. Mary had Goodwright and Scott of Intel go through the parking lot in their unmarked POV on the way to lunch, and Hamm's car was there, in its marked space."

I nodded. "All right, thanks Myron. And keep trying to find Merkle and Ripley..."

After Myron left, I sat there for long minutes, in what some would call a reverie, but was actually me trying to decide what to do. This was the part of my job that sucked, but was where I earned my money. I could have Commander Croyle flood the malls and major parking lots with patrols, hopefully scaring off any drug deals. But if I stopped the DEA from making a good bust, future drug sales to our School students would be my fault, on me. But if I did nothing, and Agents died because of my inaction, that'd be worse...

Part 16 - Detonation

2:30pm, Friday, January 10th. My Police iPhone rang.

"This is Artis Lattimore." said Artis Lattimore. "I can't get a hold of Ripley at all. His vehicle is parked at the Old Post Office, but nobody's there. I went to the Federal Building, but they wouldn't let me past the first floor, even with my badge." As a D.A.'s Investigator, Lattimore had a gold badge that looked like the TCPD, TCFD, etc., but it was in black lettering with the Scales of Justice instead of the Public Safety insignia.

"All right, thanks." I said. After disconnecting, I called Jack Muscone. Somewhat to my surprise, he answered.

"Sorry, Don, but I've got nothing." said Muscone. "Lyndon's en route back to the City. Stevens is upstairs in the Communications Room, so I think the DEA is doing a drug sting. I'll see if I can get something out of him."

"All right, thanks." I said. Very frustrated, I headed towards MCD. Detectives and their Captain were in a semi-circle around the whiteboards. Commander Ross was listening in.

"Hello, sir." said Captain Perlman. "We're going over all this again, from the beginning, if you'd like to join us."

"Don't mind if I do." I said, pulling up the 'Commander's chair' from the back corner near the coffeemaker. "Please, carry on."

Julia Rodriguez said "We agreed that we've concentrated too hard on the drug angle, and need to go back to the murder itself. We have a little more from the State Crime Lab's Ballistics team. They confirm that the slug recovered from the body was a 9mmP round, and it traveled downward through the victim's chest, suggesting he was on his knees when he was shot."

Julia: "His clothing from the pants down is that of a white-collar business man, but the flannel shirt and windbreaker are more representative of the working class. We since learned that he had identities that were of each class, but why the mixed attire is one of the many 'strangenesses' of this case."

"You got that right." I murmured.

Julia went right on: "His watch was set wrong; it was forty minutes behind the correct time. And why bother having a watch, when a cellphone would give the correct time?"

"Cellphones can be traced." said Roark Coleman. "Old-style wristwatches, not so much. But yeah, they can be wrong."

Something about that comment piqued me, as if a lock in my head were being turned, and the first tumbler crashing into place...

Julia: "Moving on, he did not bleed out where he was found, suggesting his body was moved. A thorough examination of Southpoint Mall and its parking lots have found no blood, which isn't easy to just wipe up, though the snow that night and it melting might've washed some of that away. But the bottom line is that we don't really have a crime scene where he was shot, only the place where he was found."

"Let's pause here." Tanya Perlman said. "Why bother moving him? Why was it so imperative he not be found where he was shot?"

"Stating the obvious," said Theo Washington, "the place he was shot must be somewhere that could lead us back to the killer."

"Thanks for that, Captain Obvious." quipped Teddy Parker.

"Oh, you ain't making Captain in this here Police Force with that." Cindy Ross said. "I think it's obvious that what Commander Troy said earlier is true: they wanted us to find the body."

Another tumbler in my mind was crashing into place as I replied: "I never was a Captain in this here Police Force. So both theses can be true. They didn't want to find it at Point A, and did want us to find it at Point B, emphasis simply on finding it."

Julia: "And there were strangenesses with that, too, sir. Two mock Gas Company trucks block traffic long enough to dump the body where it can be seen, suggesting a ring of multiple persons in this gang."

"Hell," said George Newman, meaning it lightly, "maybe it was the DEA that moved the body after their sting went wrong."

Time slowed down.

I literally felt the last of the tumblers crashing into place in my mind, unlocking it. Suddenly, I was seeing it, all of it. "Whaa?" I gasped. "Ohhhhhh shiiiiitttt..."

"What is it, sir?" asked Tanya.

"Newman gets the blue crowbar for this." I gasped. And then I unconsciously began giving orders: "Ross! Get your armor and your crowbar, and come with me. The rest of you, get your armor and weapons, and get ready! I'll radio in where you'll need to go."

And with that, I was racing out of the room and to my office. I threw off my trenchcoat, put on my armor, and put my trenchcoat back on. As I was exiting the office, Cindy was exiting hers.

"Where to?" she asked.

"The Federal Building!" I all but yelled as I flew out of the anteroom and down the hall, Cindy racing to keep up.

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

"I'm coming over there!" I yelled into my cellphone as I drove out of the parking lot, with Cindy riding shotgun. "Get him out of the Communications Room, or I'll bust in there to find him!"

My Police SUV easily bypassed the barricades on Elm Street that closed it off to vehicle traffic, by going over the curb. I flew up to the Federal Building. Cindy scampered after me as I flew into the building.

I just held up my badge as I flew past the guards to the FBI suite. I burst into the Conference Room, where Jack Muscone, Karina White, and Dwight Stevens were.

"Where is it?" I yelled at Stevens. "Where is the drug deal going down? Where are they meeting?"

"That's none of your goddamned business." snarled Stevens.

"Look, your Agents are walking into an ambush!" I said. "I need to know----"

"NO!" yelled Stevens. "This deal is going down! It's in progress now! You stay out of our business!"

"God-DAMMIT, Stevens!" I yelled. "Why won't you fucking TRUST me?!"

"After what you pulled with Marcie Harper, asshole?" Stevens yelled back as loudly as he could. "Why SHOULD I trust you?"

"BECAUSE I'M TRYING TO SAVE YOUR AGENT'S LIFE, GOD DAMN YOU!" I yelled back. "WHERE IS THE DEAL GOING DOWN?"

"Come on, Dwight, tell him!" yelled Muscone. "That's an order! TELL HIM!"

"NO!" yelled Stevens. "You're not my boss! This is the DEA's operation! Both of you stay out of it!"

"I don't have time for this shit." I growled, turning for the door. "Your Agent is dead if I don't find him in time! Come on, Ross!"

Cindy followed me, and we ran down the stairs and back to my Police SUV. A cloud of black smoke from burning rubber rose as the sound of screeching tires echoed over Courthouse Square...

*BRING!* *BRING!* *BRING!* *BRING!*

It was my Police iPhone. Cindy answered it for me...

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

"There he is." said Fred Merkle as he drove his Toyota Corolla through the back parking lot of the Southpoint Mall, seeing the older model pickup truck parked near the back entrance, right next to the wall of the building, almost camouflaging it. "You know what to do."

"I'm your bodyguard, holding the cash." said Jackson Ripley. "We make the exchange, then we drive out, and the other team comes in and takes him down."

"Got your armor on?" asked Merkle. "Not that you'll need it or anything."

"Yeah, but it's thin, like you suggested." said Ripley. "It won't be obvious on my body, but small-caliber rounds can get through it."

"Don't sweat it." said Merkle as he stopped, his car facing the other vehicle head-on. "Okay, here we go."

They got out of their van, and the driver of the pickup truck also got out.

"I wasn't expecting you." Merkle said. "Do you have the product?"

"Who is this guy?" asked the other man. "You brought a nigger with you?

"He's my bodyguard." said Merkle. "I've got the 22K, and I don't like carrying this much cash alone. I'm surprised you're alone. Do you really have the product on you?"

"Of course." said the other man. "But I have one question first: what time is it?"

To be continued.

Dear Readers, you have the clues. What is going on? And who murdered Carl Fisher? Answers in the exciting concluuuuusion of the story...