Chapter Eleven
Homicide Captain’s
Office
Saturday Morning
Eight Thirty A.M
Luckily for them, when they walked into the homicide division, it was pretty quiet, and there weren’t many detectives around. That wasn’t shocking since they were there doing their work for them.
Apparently.
Who was there?
Well, it was the man they needed to see who requested they show up in person.
The captain.
It was anyone’s guess how this was going to go, since his detectives were annoying. If past experiences showed them anything, the douchery didn’t wander far from the head cop’s office.
Finding him was easy.
Not punching him in the face for being annoying would be the difficult part.
At his office, they found him working on paperwork and waiting for them. It was clear that he’d been given the heads-up that they would be there.
Yeah, the second they’d left the company of the two detectives, they had to have warned him.
When they knocked on his door, he waved them in, and both men took seats across from them.
“Agents,” he said, getting up. “Coffee?” he asked, pleasantly.
Ethan had finished the one Gene had gotten him, and he could use another.
“Thank you, please,” he said.
Gene also nodded.
“That would be nice.”
As the man made them coffee, he introduced himself to the two agents.
“I’m Captain Jerome Vala. You can call me Jerry,” he said, handing both men a cup of black coffee and then packets of sugar and creamer so they could make it how they liked it.
Gene made the coffees, so Ethan could do the heavy lifting on this one.
“We appreciate you making time to see us, Jerry,” Ethan said, like they had a choice in the matter. “I’m Ethan Blackhawk, and this is my partner, Gene Cantrell. Let’s keep it informal. First names it is.”
The man sat.
Apparently, it was time to get down to business.
That was fine with them.
“I’m glad you are here. The second I was told about the three victims being connected, I knew we were ill-equipped to handle this.
Don’t get me wrong, Detectives Pezzimente and Balo are good cops, but three bodies and what is likely a serial killer?
That’s out of their league. When they told me about the two missing women, I was already going to call the FBI office as soon as we found their bodies.
I don’t like to let things like this linger. I’m glad you happened on the scene.”
Oh, happened nothing.
Blackhawk knew that the two birdies had been singing plenty. This cop knew everything they knew thanks to the detectives reporting to their bosses.
Blackhawk laid it all out on the table.
“I’m sure by now, the detectives have told you everything, like the fact that I was here visiting family.”
He reassured him.
“Yeah, they told me that you’re originally from here, but we all have family, Ethan. What I want is to keep my job. There is a re-election in November. What I need is competent people to handle this. I would be lying if I said I didn’t speak to your boss.”
Oh, boy.
That could go in a bunch of ways.
Gabe was NOT their biggest fan at that moment, so this was a crapshoot for them.
“I see,” Ethan said. “And was it a call you don’t regret? Because most people don’t hang up happy when they run headlong into Gabriel Rothschild. He’s not one to mince words or enjoy being annoyed.”
Ethan knew he’d rather eat his own eyeballs than deal with Gabe.
That was why he was never doing it again.
Luckily for them, the man behind the desk waved that off.
“He said you guys would have this, and that we could trust you to handle the case. Granted, he mentioned one of you was on desk duty, and to make sure you stayed that way.”
Gene raised his casted arm.
“Serial killer souvenirs,” he admitted. “I’m the desk jockey. I can't carry.”
The man saw the cast.
And continued.
“I tried telling my detectives that they have nothing to worry about, but Balo is a control freak, and she likes to drive the bus. Normally, we let her, since she’s a good cop. Don’t let her rub you the wrong way.”
Well, too late for that.
She rubbed them beyond wrong way.
He continued.
“They’ll help you where you need them, but don’t worry about ditching them to do it your way. I get it. I was a detective once and had to deal with the same situations.”
Well, this was pleasant.
And unexpected.
This was going in a completely different direction. It was like they’d fallen into a parallel land.
The coffee was even good.
What the hell?
Since the man seemed open and honest, Blackhawk took a shot at it.
“Honestly, we are having a problem, Jerry. Doctor Parker skipped out, and he just gave his report to the detectives. To us, that’s a problem.”
He laughed again.
“He’s a pisser. Yeah, Doc hates just about everyone.
He hates his job. He hates cops. He hates it all.
Don’t take it personally. Once, he made a detective wait three days for the autopsy results.
He told the cop his spectratimedometer was broken.
It took the detective three days to figure out that there is no such thing. ”
Oh, boy.
Well, then, they were absolutely not letting him touch another victim for them. That was problematic when shit went to court, and a Fed was grilled over the ME’s incompetence. The last thing anyone wanted was playing ‘catch and release’ with a serial killer due to forensic issues.
Gene was curious.
“Then why the bloody hell did he become an ME?” he asked, curiously.
Jerry leaned forward and lowered his voice.
“We all think he couldn’t hack it as a doctor, so he opted to work with the dead because they don’t talk or sue a person.”
Oh, well.
That was…something.
Yeah, Damascus was a shitshow.
“Anyway, I’m sorry about him jacking with you. He’s set in his ways, and he’s not going to play ball. God knows I’ve tried to make him do it. He just flips people off and avoids. He’s a little off, but he’s the ME we have. I can’t wait to see how miserable he is in twenty years,” he joked.
Well, Ethan was glad he was amused.
They.
Were.
Not.
Because it was clear they were getting no help from the homicide captain, or resolution regarding the ME, it was time to do what they needed to do.
“That’s why we’re having the bodies shipped to Salt Lake City for a re-do, and all the forensics to be done in-house,” he said, waiting for the explosion.
But there was none.
“Okay,” Jerry said, completely nonplussed.
Yeah, no fucks were given.
Ethan actually looked over at his partner to make sure he was hearing that right.
What?
Was?
This?
“Really? You’re okay with it?” he asked. “You don’t care that we’re stripping away what is left of jurisdiction to our people?”
The man nodded.
“Again, election season is approaching, and I’d like to keep my job.”
Okay, about that.
Gene wasn’t a political scientist, but he knew enough about law enforcement that he needed some answers.
“Uh, homicide captains aren’t elected. They are appointed. Sheriffs are elected.”
He smiled.
“I’m aware, but my boss is the commissioner. If this particular commissioner loses, I lose and can lose my job. So, I need to make him look good, and he runs on a ‘tough on crime’ approach. We can’t be tough if we have a serial killer running around. Right?”
Okay, he had a point.
It wasn’t a good point, but it was legit.
Gene went there.
“Well, can you sign off on it since your ME is long gone?” Gene asked. “I can print the forms off with your printer, and then we can be out of your hair.”
The man nodded.
“Have at it. Here’s the printer ID number. Just send it, and you’re good to go,” he said.
Yeah, this was all too easy.
There had to be a catch, or something ready to blindside them.
Instead of saying anything else, Gene got down to work.
“Is there anything you have so far that I need to know about?” Jerry asked. “You know, to fill me in in case my boss asks. He won’t, but you never know when he’ll want a photo op—likely when this is over.”
Ethan wasn’t giving him anything.
The man might be making their jobs easy, but he didn’t trust anyone who was willing to toss a case for an election cycle. That was just as bad to him as the overbearing detectives who were blocking him, or a runaway ME.
“There isn’t,” he said. “We just caught this case last night, and we were sidelined by your ME until an hour ago. We are just about to start interviews, after finishing with you.”
Jerry looked unbothered.
When there was a knock on the door, a pretty woman appeared, and she was holding a paper.
“Someone printed to the wrong copier,” she offered. “I was in the file room, and it went off,” she added.
Jerry laughed.
“My bad, Gene. I gave you the wrong ID number. This is Mary McGrew. She’s our secretary, file clerk, and mail lady all in one. Thanks, Mary.”
She smiled.
“No worries. I see the FBI is taking control. Thank God,” she said. “The news is talking about a serial killer,” she said, putting the paper on her boss’s desk.
The man nodded.
“Yeah, the FBI is here to save us,” Jerry admitted, as the woman started walking to the door. “Hey, Mare, can you order more coffee and those cute little stirrers? I’m almost out.”
She made a note in a little notebook she pulled from her skirt pocket.
“Sure thing, Jerry. Anything for you,” she said, smiling. “Have a good day, Agents,” she offered.
Then, she was gone.
“She’s a doll. Her daddy was a cop, and her momma was a nurse. Unfortunately, he died in the line of duty. We take good care of Mary. We promised her daddy.”
Well, that was good to know.
Irrelevant, but a nice sentiment.
As Jerry and his partner were talking, Gene was filling out the form to get the bodies picked up. When he handed it to the man, he signed it without looking at it.
Yeah, Jerry was like no captain they’d encountered.
That was for sure.
“Anything else, gentlemen?” he asked, picking up a paper from his desk as he tucked his shiny gold pen away.
Ethan shook his head.
“No. I think we’re good,” he admitted.
That’s when Jerry handed the paper to Gene.