Chapter 9
Jett and Rookie had Clint Rogers in a small conference room on the third floor waiting for Hawkeye.
It had taken them almost an hour to get the man out of his tiny apartment and into their SUV because he claimed he was innocent of any wrongdoing and shouldn’t have to be questioned further, even by IA.
They finally had to cuff him with their zip ties and drag him out.
“I demand to have my union representative present for any questioning,” Rogers yelled at them. “I’m pressing charges against you both for being manhandled.”
Rookie adjusted his hearing aid down another notch to tune him out further. “He’s on his way. So pipe down.”
Rogers smirked as if he’d won a huge battle as the door opened and Mitchell Simpson and Hawkeye entered followed by Brand.
“What’s this?” Rogers demanded. “You said Internal Affairs wanted to talk to me.”
“No, we didn’t,” Jett said. “We said Internal Affairs preferred we asked you questions at the station. Now sit your ass in that chair.”
Rogers glared at them and sat with his arms crossed, muttering, “First I’m put on administrative leave, brutally dragged down to the station, and now I’m being questioned like I’ve done something wrong.”
“For someone who claims to be innocent you’re acting guilty,” Hawkeye said. “I read McLeod’s statement from where he spoke with you about your part in the altercation on the ice which led to Reilly Flynn’s death.”
“An unfortunate accident,” Rogers snapped.
Hawkeye laid the photo of the man with the tattoo in front of him . “Care to tell me who this is? And don’t say you don’t know. We have video surveillance of you speaking to him before the exhibition game at the arena.”
“Just a guy who came to the door,” Rogers said.
“And you came out of the locker room to talk to him?” Jett said. He pulled up the video footage on his cellphone and played the clip showing Rogers in his uniform leaving the locker room and going to the door to talk to the guy. “It doesn’t look like someone random. It looks like you knew him.”
Rogers held up his hands. “Fine. I knew him.”
“And it looked like you tried to invite him inside, but he wouldn’t come,” Rookie pointed out.
“I did. I thought he’d enjoy the game,” Rogers said. “But he said he wasn’t supposed to be there.”
“Why was that?” Hawkeye asked.
Rogers shrugged. “He didn’t say, but he texted me to talk.”
Simpson pulled a chair around to sit beside Rogers. “As your union representative I’m advising you to be straight with your commander. Tell him what he wants to know. Don’t get yourself jammed up over something trivial.”
“What’s the identity of this guy got to do with what happened on the ice?” Rogers asked. “He wasn’t there. He had nothing to do with the fight.”
“He didn’t, but Flynn didn’t die because of the fight,” Hawkeye said. “He died because someone was feeding him rat poison. Did you know anything about that?”
Rogers looked around the room at each of the men. “You’re shitting me, right?”
“As it stands now Rogers, we could be looking at you for accessory to murder,” Hawkeye said. “You instigated the fight. What’s to say you weren’t working with this man at the door.”
“Come on now,” Rogers jumped up. “Simpson, do something. They’re trying to set me up.”
“I don’t know. The evidence does look damning,” Simpson said.
Roger’s lunged at the man, pushing him back against the wall and grabbing him around the collar. “Who’s side are you on?”
Brand and Jett leaped to pull Rogers off Simpson and restrain him.
“Yours. Of course,” Simpson said, straightening his shirt. “But I have to be practical when I see footage that tells a different story.”
“Monte Adams was right,” Rogers muttered. “When people around here get it out for you then you are doomed no matter what.”
“So you know Adams?” Hawkeye asked.
Rogers broke free from Brand and Jett’s hold and sat back down. “In passing.”
“That kind of comment doesn’t sound like one he’d make off the cuff,” Hawkeye said.
“Think what you will,” Rogers said. “I want a lawyer.”
“Okay boys, you heard him,” Hawkeye said. “He wants a lawyer. Take him down to the precinct and let him make his phone call. Then put him into interrogation for holding.”
Simpson reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and read the screen. “Dugan says that IA has shown up. Sorry Rogers, I have to go back to sit in on that meeting.”
“You do that,” Hawkeye said. “It’ll be a while before anyone arrives for Rogers.”
“What a mess,” Simpson said, leaving the room.
“What’s IA talking to Scottie about?” Rogers demanded, glaring at them. “I hope you’re not trying to railroad him like you’re trying to do me.”
“None of your concern,” Brand said.
“Come on, I’ll walk you to the precinct,” Rookie ordered, taking him by the arm, but Rogers jerked away and stood on his own. “Fine, suit yourself. I don’t care if you get that phone call or not.”
After they left, Hawkeye was reading his phone and looked up at Brand, Grinning broadly. “Don Juan and Loverboy are bringing Adams up here now. Jett, is there a way you can hook your phone and that footage you have up to that monitor for viewing when Adams gets here?”
“Sure,” Jett replied.
Hawkeye made a call. “Can you send Detective Graves to the third-floor conference room. Thanks.”
Brand arched a brow. “Covering all basis on this one.”
Someone knocked on the door and it opened to show a laughing Don Juan, Loverboy and Monte Adams. The men entered, obviously in high spirits.
“What’s so funny?” Brand asked.
“Adams was telling us about an arrest he and Dugan made when they rode together,” Don Juan explained. “It made Carly and Simone giving us the slip seem like child’s play.”
Twice in one week? Brand groaned. This was getting to be too much.
“So, Commander, what did you need to see me about?” Monte asked. “I had to leave work and my boss was understanding, but he needs me back to cover my shift as soon as possible.”
“I appreciate your willingness and his,” Hawkeye said. “Please, take a seat and I’ll get to the point.”
“Sure,” Monte said, settling in the chair where Rogers used.
“Clint Rogers was telling us how the two of you don’t really know one another, but we’re under the impression that this might be you in the photo. Can you tell us if we’re right?”
Without giving Monte a chance to respond, he slapped the photo onto the table of the man who broke into the brownstone in front of him.
“Why do you think it’s me?” he asked after taking a cursory look.
“Right height and build,” Hawkeye explained. “We also have a different angle of you talking with Rogers at the back door of the arena before the exhibition game the day you were off work.”
Brand watched Adams’ expression closely to see if it gave away anything. Hawkeye was really going out on a limb making that connection. Good thing Detective Graves hadn’t arrived yet or they’d be in hot water if this approach backfired.
Monte shook his head. “Sorry, but you’re mistaken.” He tapped his index finger on the photo. “That’s not me.”
“Really?” Jett said and he pressed play on his phone, to show the video of Rogers leaving the locker room dressed for the game flashing on the monitor at one end of the conference room.
He hit pause, and added, “While there isn’t any sound to this feed, it sure looks like he’s meeting up with you at the back door and trying to get you to come inside. ”
“You’re all full of shit is all I got to say.” Monte jumped up and walked to the monitor. He pointed to the picture. “You can’t even see that guy’s face. All you get is a forearm with a tattoo.” And he pulled up the sleeves on his work shirt and showed he didn’t have tattoos on either forearm.
“Well then,” Hawkeye said. “That’s good for you.”
“How many times am I going to be jammed up for something I didn’t do?” Monte shouted. “Is IA saying I did this too? Just like they said I took bribes from those drug dealers that got me thrown off the force?”
Hawkeye held up his hands. “Look. We’re sorry. Our evidence was faulty. And Rogers was less than cooperative. We had to be sure.”
“Can I go now?” Monte’s voice returned to a normal level, but his tone was surly. “I need to get back to my job.”
“Sure.” Hawkeye conceded, looked grim. “We may have more questions later.”
“Make sure you have a leg to stand on before you haul me down here if you do,” Monte said. “Or I’ll file charges for harassment against the police department. This is getting old.”
After Adams stormed out slamming the door behind him the men exchanged glanced. This put a new spin on things.
“What did that accomplish?” Will asked.
“How can he have a tattoo in the photos and not now?” Brand asked. “That has to be him.”
“Temporary,” Don Juan said. “He could have been trying out a temporary one to see if he liked it.”
“But he had one every time he went to the Flynn’s’ brownstone?” Brand shook his head. “I can’t see him doing that. Unless he wore one on purpose for deniability.”
“Speaking of deniability,” Jett said. “When you went to pick him up, was there any time he was out of your sight that he could have used a coverup on his forearms?”
Don Juan narrowed his eyes in concentration. “He did take a phone call, although it was brief. I suppose that could have been from Rogers warning him.”
“And he did speak with his boss alone,” Loverboy said. “We didn’t follow him into the man’s office, but the door was open. We could see them talking.”
Someone knocked again, and Hawkeye went to open the door. Detective Graves had finally arrived. He was a young man and he was dressed in a conservative winter suit that would withstand a Chicago winter even if he were chasing down a criminal.
“I was told you wanted to see me, Commander.”
“Come in, Graves,” Hawkeye said. “I have an assignment I would like you to take on personally. Walk with me back to my office and I’ll get you the background files on the former officer I want you to investigate. We believe he’s responsible for the death of Officer Flynn.”
“And you think I’m the best detective to take this on, sir?” Graves said. “But I’m new to the force. I haven’t been here as long as some of the other detectives.”
“Exactly the reason,” Hawkeye said. “The officer in question knows everyone else. And while you are new to this precinct and Chicago, you have the experience from your years serving in New York.”
Graves nodded.