Chapter 14
“Right here is good,” Capes said, signaling for the cabdriver to park along the curb a few feet from where Hollis was shot. He immediately noticed a Crown Vic parked across the street; the window was down, and Finn Doyle was behind the wheel.
Capes had never been fond of Crown Vics, the vehicle police departments most often used as patrol cars.
Even seeing one parked without police insignia made the hairs on his neck stand at attention.
Finn’s was unmarked, gray, and tinted, with a cluster of antennae on the trunk.
It was a typical surveillance vehicle used for undercover operations.
Capes had been inside a few throughout his life and knew they were uniformly outfitted with a shotgun mounted between the seats, a first-aid kit in the door panel, a radio, and more than likely a dated computer terminal.
Capes walked over to the driver’s side of the sedan.
“Where’s the counselor?” Finn asked.
“He’s got more pressing matters, so he sent me.”
Finn looked Capes over from head to toe, then said snidely, “All right. Hop in.”
Capes made his way to the passenger-side door and joined Finn inside.
“Neighborhood doesn’t look that bad,” Finn said. “Working-class, sure, but it looks like people take care of their properties.”
“Were you expecting something else?”
“It’s Chicago—corner boys, dopers, hookers—no telling what you’ll find on some of these streets.”
“Look, I know how the thin blue line cuts,” Capes said. “Don’t feel like you have to go out of your way. If people know you’re helping our firm, it might—”
“People…People…You think I give a damn what they think?” Finn turned his nose up in disgust. “You want to know how Hollis and I became friends?”
“Yeah, okay…”
“These people you speak of had their opinions about us partnering up at Metra. White and Black cops don’t really partner up too much.”
Capes shook his head. “Yeah, I’ve heard that.”
“Truth is, I wasn’t too keen on working with him, but Hollis was a good cop. He’d been a cop a lot longer than me and had been with CPD for years before he left. I figured I could learn from him.”
“Was it a good partnership?”
“He’s one of the best partners I’ve ever had,” Finn said.
“Didn’t matter, though…a couple of assholes on the force saw how well we jelled and decided they didn’t like it.
First it started with jokes…Ebony and Ivory, Salt and Pepper, Jungle Fever.
We let all that roll off our shoulders, but then they tried to ruin Hollis. ”
“How so?”
“Basically, they wanted to run him out of the department. It was mostly hazing. Taping pictures on his locker…”
“Pictures of what?”
“I don’t know…Africa, I think.”
“Africa?”
“Like jungles and gorillas with a tag that said: ‘Answer the call of the wild,’ and ‘The bush is waiting.’ ”
“That’s messed up.”
“Goes without saying. I told them to back off. Then, they found out about the lawsuit Hollis filed against CPD, and some of those assholes thought I’d side with them.
Cops who sue are usually blackballed, but Hollis worked his ass off to join Metra, and in the end, they couldn’t deny him.
He scored the highest in the academy and was whip-smart.
Metra’s been lucky to have him, but these people you talk about, well, they saw Hollis as a turncoat and didn’t think he could be trusted. ”
“Good ol’ tribalism.”
“Is that what they call it?” Finn asked but didn’t wait for an answer. “I saw it as cliquing up, but these guys only wanted to get rid of the one Black man in our unit so things could go back to how they used to be.”
“Which was what?”
Finn swallowed hard and said, “Lots of colorful language around the breakroom. People were openly saying whatever the hell they wanted about women, people of color, and those with sexual preferences they didn’t like.
It was locker room talk all day, every day, because they didn’t think anyone gave a damn. ”
“Did you give a damn?”
“Back then, not enough, to be honest. I’d ignored all the slurs and shit-talking until Hollis showed up.”
“What changed?”
“Those guys realized Hollis had already sued one department and decided they didn’t want to go through all that. So, they chilled out…mostly.”
“No, I mean what changed for you?”
“I respected Hollis,” Finn said. “I didn’t know many Black people growing up.
Gone to school with a few, but other than that, I barely interacted with anyone who didn’t look like me or have an Irish last name.
” Finn eyed a car that slowed as it passed.
The passenger’s head poked out the window.
“Would you look at this shit,” he said, getting heated, which didn’t seem to take much.
The passenger was a blond teen girl wearing a knit cap. She stared at the remnants of Hollis’s blood in the street, a large stain that hadn’t been washed away, and began taking pictures of the large red circle with her phone.
“What the hell is wrong with these people?” Finn asked. “Damn sickos.”
“I ask myself the very same question multiple times a day,” Capes said. “Haven’t come up with a good answer besides the obvious…”
“And what’s that?”
“What happened to Hollis carries the same weight as a squirrel getting hit by a car. It’s worthy of a brief consideration. How sad for that squirrel. If only it had run faster or picked another street.”
“Nah, people don’t think that way about Hollis,” Finn said. “He’s a cop.”
“I wish I could agree, but I promise you that people will blame Hollis for what happened to him. It won’t matter that he’s a cop.”
“That’s a really cynical outlook you’ve got there.”
“Wish it wasn’t that way, but I haven’t seen anything different.”
“These assholes better move it along.” Finn was growing more agitated watching the sightseers. He placed his hand on the car horn. “I’ll give them one minute to move on, and then I’m getting out.”
“They haven’t broken any laws,” Capes said. “Ogling a crime scene is all kinds of fucked up, but not illegal.”
“I’m sure I could find something.”
The passenger finally pulled her head back into the car, and the driver continued down the street.
“I guess it wasn’t too hard for people to figure out where the shooting took place,” Capes said. “Maybe the video captured a street sign or something easily recognizable?”
“People probably recognized this empty field,” Finn said, noting the fenced-in, overgrown lot.
“Why? Did it used to be something important?”
“Nah, it’s owned by Halpern Construction, and they’ve got these bright yellow signs that can’t be missed.” Finn pointed to the sign fixed to the fence with the company’s name. “We’ve got empty lots all around the city, and Halpern owns most of them. You can’t help but notice their signs.”
“You want to finish telling me about you and Hollis being BFFs?”
“Long story short, it probably makes me sound shallow, but Hollis was good at his job. Working with him made me a much better cop, and if I’d had to put up with a fraction of the shit he did, I would’ve quit a long time ago.”
“Why do you think Hollis didn’t quit Metra like he did CPD?”
“One shift, Hollis spotted a guy in a heavy coat. Mind you, it was late April, unseasonably warm, too. He followed him through the station, then approached. The guy made a run for it, but Hollis was quick. Turns out, the guy he tackled had two hunting knives and a pistol in his waistband. He’d just killed his grandparents and an uncle over on the South Side. ”
“Shit.”
“That day, Hollis caught a killer and made sure that guy didn’t take anyone else’s life. After that, those officers that gave him shit started showing him the respect he was due.”
“And all it took was him doing his job?”
“There’s nothing easy about this kind of work, but it’s especially difficult for cops like Hollis.”
“Like Hollis?”
“You know what I mean,” Finn said. “For Black cops. People will always see the badge second.”
“That’s the damn truth.”
“It’s good your boss is involved now. You know, I’ve followed a few of Cooper’s cases. Not easy wins.”
“Nope—but he’s the best, hands down. I’ve learned invaluable lessons working alongside him.”
“How long have you been a PI?”
“A little over a decade now.”
“You’re licensed in Texas?”
“No,” Capes said. “I’m what you’d call unregulated.”
“Say more.”
“Got in some legal trouble years back. Just being a dumb kid. Caught a felony, which means I’m not eligible for a PI license in Texas.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Nothing…it was a long time ago,” Capes said. “You think we should get out and start knocking on doors?”
“Yeah, we ain’t getting any younger.”