Posts Tagged ‘Police’

Murders in Progress

November 10, 2012

The Feds

(Episode 12)

Likely enough, Bob Weeds had been somewhere, where he had absorbed some ‘growing community sentiment’, Leland figured on his way back.  He made it a mental floss to think a little bit more about Bob, and he put Ruth on the phones when he got back.  Ruth was a master at ‘salting the mine’: just little tidbits of insider knowledge, enough to let the local network of gossips share with the public at large that – at least in the Sheriff’s office – events were bubbling, things were moving.  Because, Leland knew,  in his job, the campaigning never really stopped.

Five gallons of gas wasn’t enough to get to Ramey’s and back to town, so before Leland could get out to Ramey’s, he first had to get back to town to fill the car and 5 gallon container.  And while he was at it, he decided it might be best to stop back by the office to check on a few things.

“Ruth!” He shouted as he tossed back the entry door.  “Fill that damned cruiser with gas after you use it.”  He tossed Ruth the keys.

Ruth skittered out.

Leland’s first need was to change his firepower.  Leland had figured the county issued pistol he carried was adequate for most of what he was required to do as part of his job as Kimmel County Sheriff.  But this latest string of murders had larger troubles written large all over it.  And Leland imagined he’d need to blow a bigger hole through whomever it was doing it than a regulation pistol would allow.

After this second murder, a saying of Leland’s Sergeant in the LA Police Department had come to mind.  “You don’t go hunting bear with a squirrel gun.  Bigger game requires a bigger gun.”  His mentor had said that the morning before they went up against the Jamaicans.  Leland had never seen so much blood.  But it was Police Department 10 / Jamaicans 0.

Leland sat at his desk cleaning and oiling and reassembling the .45 Colt Anaconda he’d fetched from back in the evidence locker, checking its action, and practicing moving it in and out of his holster, while looking out onto the main street through the slats in the blinds.  Leland had been here ten years settling things like shot pet disputes, filched timber, and crop damage complaints when all of a sudden people were getting murdered.  It was changing how he looked out on Main Street.   And he didn’t like it.

Leland turned back to oiling and working his gun.  He checked the sights.  He figured anybody who was out murdering people might resist arrest, also.  And while he was thinking this and spinning the cylinder, something flashed in the window.

Suddenly …a flash of light!

He looked up just soon enough to see a pair of pig-tails disappear.

He was thinking of giving the damned kid a chase, when an unmarked American sedan drove up and parked directly before where he stood looking out, .45 Colt Anaconda pistol in hand.  There was something about the speed and authority with which the auto parked.  He parted the Venetian blind wider with a forefinger and saw a man and a woman in the front seats.  The man was driving.  They both wore dark suits.  Everything about it said, government.   And everything about that said, “Feds”.  And everything about that raised flags.  He slid the gun and oils, tools  and bullets into his top drawer, and wiped down the top of his desk.  He brought out a writing tablet and pen and set a little Smiley Face which said Kimmel County Sheriff’s Department underneath on the front ledge.  It was a little kitsch which Ruth had purchased.

When they poked their heads through the door, Leland noted that they were both carrying.  It’s funny how that was the first thing you noticed about somebody in this business.

“Sherriff Leland, I’m guessing.”  The man was 30-40ish, and looked fit.  He shook hands with the overbearing grip of an alpha male.

“That would be me,” Leland admitted, while they ground knuckles for a while.  “And who is this?”  He turned to the younger woman, who was who was already working her way around his office.

“Agent Hailey.”  She turned away, as if she had already been forced to reveal too much.

‘Not a bad looking woman.”  Leland’s brows rose.

“And I’m Agent Curtiss, out of the FBI’s Division office.  Can we sit?”

“Please do.”  Sherriff Leland waved a hand.

Agent Hailey glanced around.  “There are no chairs.”

“That’s how I keep people out of my office.  Plus, you know, it’s the budget.”  Leland rose from behind his desk.  “Usually when I really need to talk, I take it into the jail cell.”  Leland indicated the door behind them.  “It’s more private.”  He nodded towards the door they had come through, on the other side of which, Ruth grumbled, and returned to her desk.

Sheriff Leland led them into the cell, where he straddled a plastic chair while they sat on the steel bunk.

“Sounds like you’ve had a murder.  A couple of murders here, actually.”  Agent Curtis began.

“Yes, we have.”

“Any suspects?”

“Oh yeah.  Nearly everybody.”

“Everybody?”

“People don’t move to the country because they enjoy each other a lot.”  Leland gave the G-Man a smile.  He continued.  “In an out of the way area like this, grudges are made; they  fester.  This idea of burying the hatchet and making up happens maybe 5% of the time around here, except on evening TV sitcoms.  Here, people fight, divorce, re-marry, or drink, or run amuck with a gun or a tractor.  So, something like this happens and we’ve all got our suspicions.  I must have had about a thousand calls so far.  Lots of tips.  My guess is, that you’re bringing me another.  And you’re FBI, so I’m thinking that you’re going to tell me that this all has ‘larger ramifications’.”

“That’s right,” Agent Curtis said.  “We think that this latest homicide of Karen Loomis might be connected to the mobster Benny Green.”

Agents Curtis and Hailey looked at Leland as if he might have something to add.

“You didn’t say, …”in some way”…”.

“Huh?”

“You didn’t say that it was connected in “some way” to the mobster Benny Green.  So I’m guessing that you may have some hard information to offer,” Leland said.

“Yes, and no.  Nancy Loomis was working for us.”

“I heard she cooked muffins.  You eat muffins?”

Agent Hailey huffed.  “She was CEO of a 5 million dollar corporation which produced Food Accessories.”

“In a big way, I meant.”  Leland nodded at Agent Hailey.  “So why would a woman who is so successful and doing so well be working as an informant for the FBI?  That’s pretty dirty, disagreeable work, isn’t it?  I mean, it tosses you in with all types.  …It’s not the Rotary.”

Agent Hailey shook her head.

“The recession,” Agent Curtis smiled, leaned forward placing his elbows on his knees, and lowered his voice as if he were letting Leland in on something.

The guy was a pretty good salesman, Leland had to admit, except for that Godawful grip.

“During the recession of 2008, credit streams just dried up.  It didn’t matter who you were.  And even very successful companies were scrambling to meet their cash flows.  And that’s where Benny Green comes in.  He figures this is an excellent time to launder a lot of drug monies that otherwise he has to pay a huge commission to get pressed and cleaned.  So he’s out there helping out all he can.  He comes across our Miss Loomis, and even though it is not love at first sight… They manage to work things out.  Fine.  But then two years in, credit has loosened a bit, Nancy has bitten the bullet, and she’s wanting to pay Benny off.  But Benny doesn’t want to be paid off.  He wants what he’s got now.  And it’s then that Nancy knows that she’s stuck with this Benny Green whether she likes it or not… like with Super Glue.  Which she doesn’t.  AND, being the plucky little 120 pound thing she was, she comes to us.  And we hammer out an agreement.”

“It was a very dicey negotiation,” Agent Hailey cut in.  “Because she was already up to her neck in legal shenanigans, and knew she was at legal risk.  But, she also knew that they only way she would get herself and her company out of Benny Green’s clutches was if we could somehow take him down.”

“So we joined forces,” Agent Curtis continued.  “She helps us take Benny Green down, and we call it good.  That was the deal.”

“Only now she’s dead.”  Agent Hailey said this with some real anger, looking as if Sherriff Leland had let it happen.

“End of deal,” Leland said.  Leland looked at them as if to say, ‘Then you must have gotten her killed.’  And they both looked down.

“It doesn’t look like a mob killing,” Leland offered.

“And you know what, about ‘mob killings’?”  Agent Hailey retorted hotly.  She glanced around with derision.

“I know that they seldom saw off the head, go through the brains looking for God Knows What, leave cigarette butts, beer cans, and what look to be donut sprinkles and footprints all around, make weird cuts all over her body with a knife and take the left nipple for a trophy.  Oh.  And by the way, she was raped.”

“Shit!  You’re kidding.”

“No. I’m not,” said Leland.  “Whoever is doing this, I doubt they’re in it for the money.  And as to whether they might have mob affiliations…  Frankly, I don’t think the mob would have anything to do with them.   We’re looking at the ultimate loose cannon.”

Photo by Carl Nelson

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Work, work, work… with Rita Andreeva

April 15, 2012

Loopholes

“I have a serious bone to pick with American justice. It is so stretchable and adjustable, that at this point I don’t think there’s any meat left in its body, it’s pulled so tight and full of holes, officially called ‘loop holes’, to make them look slightly better than just holes.

If you were following my roommates’ saga, I called the cops on the last one a couple of times. The last time I had a friend over to be a witness. So when Ben the roommate walked through the living room to go to the kitchen, I had my feet up on a chair blocking the way. As he neared the natural barrier he frowned and growled, “I’m going thru,” and I said, “Ask politely and say ‘please'”, but he replied, “Fuck you,” pushed my feet off the chair and went to the kitchen. My friend exclaimed, “Assault! Physical contact!” So I called the cops. One of the cops said, “There is a provision in the law – you’re allowed to move someone out of your way,” and the cops didn’t do anything and left. Well, a few days later, my friend tried to explain to the policeman who came to arrest him at his place of residence why he shoved his roommate, “I was only moving her out of the way. The policeman in Central District told me it was allowed.” The law adjustment in CD didn’t work in North Seattle, and my friend had to spend the night in jail.”  – Rita

Photo by Carl Nelson

Work, work, work… with Rita Andreeva

September 11, 2011

Police are Called!

furthest adventure in the Near-Room

Photo Taken Out of Context / Professional Actor

“The night before last J.B. called 911 at about 3:30 – 4 in the morning, he took his laptop and headed to the bathroom to take a shower. I was woken up by loud talking and the light from the bathroom. (Just to remind you – I live in the near-room now and rent the real room.) So I poked my head from behind the curtain to see what all the commotion was about and saw J.B. standing in the bathroom with the door wide open talking shit about me on the phone to someone. I yelled at him, “What do you think you’re doing! Cut the crap!” He looked at me with hatred and continued into the phone, “…Of course, she’ll deny all of this, she is a very good actress…” I realized that I couldn’t do a damn thing about him, he was just going to have to rant it out, whatever it was. I went back to bed, put on my earphones and the cloth across my eyes and tried to ignore J.B. A few minutes there was a loud knocking on the door. J.B. opened the door and let in 2 policemen and one policewoman in. I came out of the near-room in my skimpy pajamas. The policewoman took me out in the hallway in my skimpy pajamas (tiny pink shorts and a tank top, no bra) and started explaining that J.R. called 911 because there was blood in the bathtub. I stared at her in disbelief, “And you came out because of that! Gees! I have a period, so there might have been a drop of blood in the bathtub I missed.” She nodded, “Yes, I understand, but he was saying you were threatening him…” I listened to J.R. raising his voice inside the apartment, “You should arrest her! She is evil! She left the blood there on purpose!” I giggled. The policeman came out, “This isn’t funny!” Two black elderly people wobbled across the hallway to their apartment, looking at us over the shoulder. I waved to them and smiled. The policewoman with bushy black mustache went inside the apartment and exclaimed, “Wow! Look at what’s in the chair!” Everyone turned to her. “What is it now?” I asked wearily. “It’s a huge cat! Just look at that huge cat!” I sighed in relief, “Yeah, that’s my kitty.” One of the policemen went to look and said, “That’s the biggest cat I’ve ever seen!” The other policeman, the one who didn’t think I should have giggled, with a shaved head and a neck and a mean look in his eyes, never bothered to look at the huge cat. He had no time for that – all business and no play. He proceeded to tell me, “Your roommate maybe crazy, but he has rights. You should clean up after yourself and not make him upset, because the next time we come out, one of you is going to jail…” I looked at him defiantly, “Are you threatening me! You have no right, I didn’t do anything, you got me out of bed in the middle of the night!” He softened his manner slightly, “I did tell him that he should find another place to live, but he doesn’t legally have to, so I’m only saying, be careful with him, don’t say anything that could be threatening…”
After the police left I was furious, so I immediately went to my computer and disconnected the wireless router and locked it in a safe. If that jerk is going to call 911 because of a dirty bathroom drain in the middle of the night every night, I’d be damned if he is using my internet anymore.
That must have done it, because he gathered his stuff and left after he woke up sometimes in late afternoon. I was out, I went for a long walk, so I was deliriously happy to come home and to find the big bedroom empty and the keys on the table. Yahoo! Freedom, probably short-lived, but sweet!
Sorry, Jewish people, you missed your chance to pay me to spy on J.B.”  – Rita

Photo by Carl Nelson


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