Carlos indicated the girl with a nod of his head, from behind the wall, beside the entrance way, safely out of camera range. Woodman walked right underneath the camera and up to the evidence locker girl, an average looking gal, who kept herself in good shape and Woodman started schmoozing her, “Oh, you’re so pretty; you’re so fine, I bet all the boys are after you…”
She was flattered and let herself be swayed by this masculine man.
“Come on,” Woodman said, “I want to show you something-” he said, leading her by the hand. “Come on, I want to show you something-”
“Oh, I can’t leave my post,” she protested, holding back.
“Sure you can, sure you can, just for a minute, no one will show, and we’ll be right over here, not far at all, and if anyone comes, you’ll be right here in the bathroom.” Right across the hall from the evidence locker, the rest room was close and he took her inside and closed the door, in full view of the camera.
Carlos came out of hiding and entered the evidence locker, also in full view of the camera. He looked at the clipboard log, found the locker number he wanted and opened it. Inside: two pounds of high grade cocaine. Stabbing one bag with a knife, he drained away at least half of it into another bag he was holding. He found a loose screw and tore the bag on it to cover the knife hole, making the lost cocaine look like an accident, that went down the side panel, between the lockers.
He closed the door and returned the key and left the area before Woodman was back with the girl.
He gave his partner five minutes and made her wonder why he was checking his watch. “Oh, I got a meeting,” he said, “in fact, it’s time to go.” He smiled, as something occurred to him. He had to keep the pretense up a little longer.
“What?” She asked.
He hugged her and rubbed her. “You like that, girl? You want some more?”
She seemed agreeable to that.
“Then listen, you don’t want to get in any trouble, do you? Then here’s what you do, you unlock the cage where they keep the video monitoring equipment, and rewind the videotape about ten minutes and start it up again after I leave and that way nobody will know, you know, what we did. Now don’t tell anyone. All right? Then we can do it again.”
She smiled and rewound the tape, wondering when she was going to see him again.
Arriving late at the office, Detective Moore came in looking tired and haggard.
“You all right? You don’t seem ready to work.” Cecil said.
“What do you want? I’m fine.” Moore’s manner was curt and he didn’t seem fine.
“What about your IAD meeting?” He checked his watch, “That’s in one hour.”
Moore looked sick, like the coffee and whatever wasn’t helping one bit.
“You can’t go in there, looking like this.”
“Yeah, I know.” He resigned himself to it.
“You look hung over.”
“That’s probably because I’ve been drinking all night.”
“Are you crazy?”
“I couldn’t sleep.” Moore said defensively. “I had to do something.”
Cecil felt for him, but he also knew, Moore had to pull himself together. “As your friend, I ask you-No, I urge you to get a grip on yourself and sober up before that meeting. And comb your hair for God’s sake. And you need a shave!” Cecil looked deeply concerned for his friend. “Are you sure you don’t know what this is about? Because Elaine seems to think you do.”
Moore gave him a solemn look, then grabbed a blade out of his desk drawer and went into the men’s room.
Jerry Quirk seemed like the perfect choice: an insecure nerd, a thin small man, with low self esteem and a shy manner. Carlos figured he would be easy to manipulate and Jerry worked as a security guard at the lab, where the detectives urine samples were being kept. He remembered when they were young and Jerry used to hang out with his younger brother, Carlos always made fun of him, calling him names like “goofball” and “moron.”
Wearing tan slacks and a print shirt, Jerry was in his twenties, meeting Carlos in a crowded restaurant for lunch, some steak house/pizza joint on El Camino. The detective was looking sharp, in a suit, jacket, no tie. His appearance alone intimidated Jerry.
He was waiting in a booth and Carlos got him a beer, ordered a steak and told Jerry to have whatever he wanted. It was on him. “You knew my bro back in junior high school.” Trying to act so cool, he was actually a little nervous. A lot was riding on this. No sense saying something stupid, “You know, I always was a little envious of you. You always seemed so much smarter than me in a way: I mean I bet you can tell me every Star Trek episode and I couldn’t name one.”
His remark failed to impress or move Jerry, who was wondering why he was sitting here.
“Anyway, I wanted to reach out to you…” Carlos considered the best way to put this. “You know, growing up, you do stupid things. You say almost anything.” He nodded and felt like an ass. “Hurtful things and for that… I’m sorry.”
Jerry wasn’t sure he approved.
“But that’s what we do when we’re kids, right?”
Yeah, the security guard had to admit that’s true.
“Hey, I’m a different person, now” Carlos said, hoping that would do the trick.
Jerry nodded, glad to have the attention, something he was obviously starving for.
“You know, with all the people I know, I could be of help to you…” He cleared his throat. “…with your career. And you know, you could be of help to me.”
“Ah…” The security guard was perplexed.
“Would you like to help the police with a real problem?”
“Anything I could do to help the police, well, I would be more than willing…” The idea actually excited him, that is the idea of fighting the forces of evil, then bragging to all his friends about it, how he helped the police catch a criminal.
“Because I have a real problem Jerry and I need your help.”
“What is it?” The security guard was genuinely concerned.
“Can you keep a secret Jerry?”
He liked where this was going. A secret? Now he was getting into the juicy stuff. “Sure, you bet.”
“Okay, my partner and I recently did some drugs to convince a dealer we were cool, before we could make the bust. Unfortunately, its department policy, never to do drugs under any circumstances. But believe me Jerry, this was a really bad guy. It’s a good thing we got him off the streets.”
“So you need access to the lab? Is that it?”
“We get in there, we find our samples, change them for a clean sample and we’re out of there: five, ten minutes tops.”
“I don’t know…” Jerry moaned, “It could be trouble.” He disliked trouble. It upset his sensitive stomach.
“Jerry, I want to take you places. I want to show you possibilities. Right now, how is your life? Are you happy? Because I have something that will make you so damn happy, you’ll think you’re in heaven: come with me.”
In a bathroom stall, Jerry asked, “What is it?”
“A snow drift,” Carlos said, like this was all a dream.
“Drugs, I don’t know…”
“Come on, you’ll see what I mean.” And he showed him the answer to his dreams in a small vile, he put up his nostril and to Jerry, he felt as if life had finally begun.
By that afternoon, Cecil was trying to concentrate on the case, when Moore walked into the office they were sharing with Lan and Stuart, fresh out of his meeting with IA.
He stood in the doorway and nodded. No one was paying any attention to him. He decided to remedy that. “I just got out of my IA meeting and now I know what this complaint is against me,” he starts to laugh himself, “you won’t believe it, but Stuart here has taken it upon herself to complain about me, saying I caused her bowel trouble.” He looks around. No one is laughing with him. “She’s actually blaming me, because she farts too much.” He laughs alone. “I mean, come on? Is that some weak ass shit, or what?”
Stuart suddenly got up and left the room, giving Moore a harsh look as she went by him. Lan went after her.
“What?” He asked, “Did I offend you?” He gestured with his arm, calling after her, yelling, “Don’t blame me for your bowel trouble, blame it on the food you eat. Here’s a clue for you: cut back on the burritos and refried beans.”
Facing Cecil, Moore saw his look of disapproval. “Oh come on, can’t you see how ridiculous she’s being?” His partner was looking at him like he should behave himself. “What? You think I’m the one?”
The next day, Detective Cecil was called into Elaine Erikson’s office. Her demeanor was usually warm and friendly, but on this occasion she was ultra serious. Elaine always felt Cecil was someone she could count on, as reliable as they come. “It’s too bad the people under you aren’t always as dependable as you. That’s why I’m sorry I have to inform you that one of your detectives is being put on desk duty,” she said bluntly.
Cecil knew the answer already. “Detective Moore?” He chose his words carefully, so as not to make matters worse. “Listen…” he began, “I know Moore has a sense of humor not everyone appreciates, but I need him out in the field. He’s trustworthy… I know I can count on him to watch my back.” He stopped, feeling irritated that he had to deal with this nonsense when he had what appeared to be a double homicide to solve. “You have to get him back on active duty.” She nodded no and Cecil was perturbed. “I’ll go to the board myself! I’ll go over your head.”
“Do that, and you’ll loose, and I’ll take you off the case.”
“No, you won’t. I’m the only one who can solve it.”
“Try me!”
Cecil left her office abruptly, not wanting to make matters worse.
Moore was coming out of the bathroom, looking refreshed and ready to go, when he encountered Cecil in the hallway. Neither one knew what to say, then Moore, after taking one look at his partner said dramatically, “What now? I know it’s something. What is it?”
“You can read me that easy?” Cecil said dourly.
“Afraid so. What is it? Spill the beans.”
Cecil did not have what you would call a poker face. His emotions were easily read in the expression on his face. He sat him down in the empty office and closed the door, then asked him what went on in that IA meeting?
“It was nothing,” he said, “totally ridiculous. They asked me if I put X-Lax in anyone’s food? X-LAX, and I know who made the allegation: Stuart of course. Why she picked me, because we have this history: I gave her a pair of thongs as a joke gift and told her how to use them, how to remove that huge stick up her ass now she thinks I put X-Lax in her food, when I didn’t even know she ate breakfast at a restaurant until this morning… Come to think of it, now that I know she eats out, maybe I should put X-Lax in her food and while I’m at it, I’ll soak her tampons in jalapeño juice and put crazy glue on her toilet seat.”
Cecil knew he wouldn’t go through with it. At the same time he could see what happened at that IA meeting: Moore treated it like a joke and the questioners weren’t laughing.
However, the situation wasn’t so dire, it warranted termination, Cecil felt this was repairable, “If you stay away from Stuart and you apologize in writing.”
“Apologize, I have nothing to apologize for.” Suddenly, Moore saw Stuart walking by their open doorway. He caught up with her in the hallway and said, “Stuart, a word if I might, please?”
She turned and faced him, her arms akimbo, feeling forced into this.
“Listen.” Moore didn’t want to have this conversation in the hallway where they could be overheard. “Will you talk with me in here?” He indicated the empty conference room.
She looked at him stubbornly.
“Please.” He had sorrowful puppy dog eyes that didn’t interest her. “Please.” He was clearly not going to give up. She caved into pressure against her better judgement. Looking at her adamantly, Moore asked, “How long have we known each other?”
Uninterested, she was tired of this already.
“We’ve known each other for seven years and in all that time, have you ever known me to put anything in someone’s food or even to make a joke about that?”
This wasn’t what she wanted to hear.
“Come on… you know me: I joke around, but I don’t tamper with peoples food.”
She was walking away without saying a word to him.
“What’s this really about?” He called after her, “You trying to sabotage my career?”
She was gone and he was disappointed and angry. This was not over.
The eye of the camera was on them, when Woodman and Carlos entered through the only entrance way into the drug testing lab. They were in an office that jutted out in the middle of the building. A long counter divided the room. The cops stood on one side of it and Jerry Quirk was sitting down at a desk looking at them on the monitor.
He told them his coworker was on a lunch break and they only had fifteen minutes.
“Where do they keep the urine samples?” Carlos asked.
“In the lab,” Jerry wondered what to do next, when he got it, “oh, right.”
He used his security card to open a door and the two cops followed him into the hallway. “Wait. First, you have to put on the lab coats.” Jerry waited, expecting them to do something.
“Jerry! Where are the lab coats?” Carlos asked.
“Oh, right, I’ll get ‘em,” he retrieved a couple of ill fitting lab coats out of a locker room, through a door nearby and they were trying to put them on, when Jerry got a call on his walkie-talkie, that freaked him out.
“Jerry, come in Jerry.”
It was a voice he knew all too well, that irritating, high pitched sound was… He turned to Carlos, a stunned expression on his face. “…my supervisor!” Jerry’s supervisor was standing on the other side of the door they just came through. The security guard was away from his post and had no valid reason for standing in this hallway. “Come on,” he said, thinking quick, “you guys can hide in the locker room.”
“Jerry, come in-” The door swung open and his supervisor stood in the doorway.
Jerry was caught trying to usher two detectives out of the way, while they struggled to put on their lab coats.
Copyright 2016 William Leslie
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