“What did you mean yesterday, when you said, and I quote. ‘If it is what I think it is?’” asked Detective Swallwell, of the Coroner, the following morning.
“About two weeks ago, I had similar poisonings resulting in death, pass through here. Two men, in the same sleazy business. When the head pathologist saw similar diagnosis with your two victims, he called me immediately. I just happened to be on my way home when he called, just minutes away from the scene. Just a hunch, now confirmed. Even the pathologist commented on your instincts.”
“So, can you confirm this yet?” asked Penny, avoiding the Pathologist comment.
“Off the record yes! On the record, for the time being, no.” “What was the cause of death?” “Looks like some new form of mustard gas. I’ll provide you with the findings as soon as they are in. You can’t mistake that garlic smell once you’ve had a taste of it. Evidence points to a crime war going on. These deaths, look to me like messages. These poisons aren’t found in your local drugstore. This is highly controlled, weapon grade stuff?” “I assumed as much…all I needed was the type. I’m doing an international cross check, as we speak.”
“How would you know that?” ask the Coroner bewildered. “I had grand parents, they had grand parents. You know how that works?” “Remember Detective, they don’t care who knows, or if anyone bothers to investigate. That’s how confident they are. I’d say you’re dealing with people with high government clearance?” added the Coroner.
“Well, makes it much easier for me then, doesn’t it?” answered Detective Swallwell. “If they don’t wanna sweep, and watch their steps, that’s their problem!”
“Maybe a bit more than you expected. Move cautiously Penny, knowing something, isn’t like proving something?” replied the Coroner
“That’s Detective, Swallwell!” said Penny. "Either way, its going to take great initiative on your part Penny, er, Detective Swallwell. Detective Skidmore, dropped off three files of possible identifications, onto Detective Swallwell’s desk, spit out by the Interpol computer network, of possible dwarf suspects. Combined with the FBI’s National Gang Center. Mickey was one of them. It didn’t take long for Red’s name to appear. Ever since their sudden rise, the police had been following Red’s gang turned crime syndicate, and their activities for years. But nothing was ever done about it.
Now even Angela and Axle’s names were found on associated lists, close to the gang. Even though they were deemed unimportant, a thick file was compiled on them. With exceptions, they’re all painted with the same brush. Sometimes the detectives know these people more intimately that their own families. The detectives decided to investigate all people described on the list.
It doesn’t matter who, or how clean you live your life unfortunately, once you are connected to a crime network, everything you do seems dirty and suspect? And that’s exactly how detectives Swallwell and Skidmore saw them, as they started out on their investigation. As far as they were concerned they were all a part of the sordid story. You were guilty simply by association.
In their preliminary investigations, Red’s nearby beach- estate popped up. Just the nearness of it raised suspicion even further. Penny was amazed at how well-known this super gang had become. And wondered why this gang could grow so big right under their noses. Penny and Doug decide to go to Red’s Bolinas estate personally, the moment it became known to them. The detectives sent in a request for a search warrant of Red’s estate, grounds and buildings, to their boss, Sargent Dundee, a highly respected career cop, known for his candor.
While they waited for the warrant, they went to Marin Hospital to see if the suspects were able to be interviewed. To their surprise, they couldn’t be located, nor could they locate the two police officers sent to replace the original two traffic cops guarding them. At first, it was thought, as simple as a bureaucratic error, until they were informed that the two men in question had been released into the care of special government agents, with highly classified credentials. And staff were told not to release any recorded or other findings to the local authorities. Penny immediately called the two traffic officers she had given orders to, the previous day, to stay with the suspects. She was told the two officers were up on discipline charges, and in the meantime, they were under federal investigation, and not able to comment.
When she asked what the charges were, she was told by their superintendent, that any further information was being withheld. She reminded them that she was a homicide detective and that they were impeding a serious murder investigation. She was told that they didn’t care if they were as guilty as Barack Obama, they couldn’t release the information.
She acknowledged it and told them that they were going to be reported to internal affairs, and that she was going to talk to the district attorney. Her own police force hung up on her. She remembered the Coroner’s warnings.
Her immediate supervisor, Sargent Dundee, was noticeably upset when he called them both into his office later that afternoon. He had just returned from the City Chief’s office and was told to immediately stop any investigation into the three murders, and the whereabouts of the two drivers. And that their request to search Red’s beach estates was denied.
Detectives Skidmore and Swallwell just stood there with their mouths hanging open, as Dundee walked over and closed his office door. This was unprecedented, and never heard of before, in all her fifteen years of service.
“Seriously?” Was the first word outta her mouth. “It is a serious offence to hamper a homicide detective from performing their duties in an ongoing investigation. Especially one of this scope. Including anything or anyone!”
“You have both been suspended with pay, until the matters leveled at you are cleared,” stated Dundee.
“What matters?” yelled Detective Skidmore. Detective Swallwell yelled, even louder, “ya, what matters?” “Don’t ever raise your voices to me like that again!” said Dundee, even more visually upset. Their yelling could easily be heard, out in the main squad room. Everyone in the room, stopped what they were doing, at that moment and turned in the direction of Dundee’s office. Some hoping Swallwell would be fired. No one had ever heard him yell like that before.
“Charges are pending, stating to the effect, that you caused serious trouble, and disruption at the hospital today! Those charges!”
“Pure unadulterated horseshit!” said Detective Skidmore, “and you know it! Obviously designed to slow and hinder our investigation,” added the detective.
“It is illegal to stand in the way of a murder investigation, know matter who,” yelled Detective Swallwell, over Dundee’s desk. Detective Swallwell snapped, tired of all the efforts to thwart her investigation. Especially, by her own department.
Dundee stood and leaned over his desk to within inches of her face and yelled, “You’re suspended, as of now!”
Swallwell heard herself say into the mic, “code 30. All officers to Sargent Dundee’s office. On the double! By the orders of Detective Swallwell.”
She stepped back and opened his office door, not sure if she is within the legal realm of having her boss arrested.
“You’re out of order Detective!” she heard him yell. The nearby detectives, all drew their weapons, and moved like robots toward Dundee’s office door, as she stepped out, holding her weapon on her boss. The three of them stepped out into the main hall.
“This department is rotten and corrupt. The buck stops here. I don’t care if I’m fired!” she yelled. “I’m executing my official duties. Everyone stand down!” Looking back over her shoulder she could see her once friends and associates, all stunned looking, and pointing their weapons toward her. The loud alarms system was screaming and drowning everyone out. Everyone was in cop mode and were now relying on their training, as they all spilled out of Dundee’s office together.
A junior constable walking past, in the hall, was the first responder and looked clearly confused, holding out his weapon, for the first time in his career, followed by two more constables, guns drawn. Code 30 was a serious internal code, for “officer in distress” and included, “shoot to kill”, if necessary.
“Officers. Arrest this man. I’m making an official arrest. The rest of you stand down!” The young policeman, stood looking confused, trying to figure out what was going on, and who they were to arrest.
“Arrest Sergeant Dundee. Handcuff him now. I’m ordering you. NOW!” she screamed. The young cop stepped forward, to obey her, until a tall detective stepped in, and held out his arm to them.
“Stand down officers!” In the tension and panic, Penny noticed the detective had a huge black eye. Why she found that interesting, at that moment, surprised her.
“Everyone!” yelled Dundee, “Lower your weapons now. That’s an order.” They all lowered there weapons gladly. The alarms were deafening!
“On what charges? What chargers should we arrest him on, mam? yelled a uniformed officer.
“Striking an officer!” yelled Dundee.
“Who, who did he strike?” demanded an angry older detective in the crowd, that know one dared to question.
At that very second, Dundee sucker punched the tall detective, with a firm, rounding, right hook, sending the man crashing to the floor. The officers ran in and handcuffed Dundee. Dundee held his hands behind his back to help them. A reporter, passing in the hall, had recorded the whole event, on this phone and quietly pocketed it. No one could leave, with the building in lockdown, at the time, as throngs of policemen milled about, discussing points of law, and outright treason around Penny’s ability to arrest her supervisor.
It was unprecedented and total chaos prevailed. Detective Skidmore yelled over all the confusion, “Take him to lockup, put him in a private cell.”
The officers rush him out, as Detective Swallwell went to her desk, floating in a dream like state. As all the other detectives stood staring at her, in disbelief. She sat, then stood again and screamed, “I’m a homicide detective and I will not have anyone impede my investigation! NOT EVEN YOU! Have I fucking made myself clear?” obviously, angry and upset at having to arrest her own boss.
Within seconds of saying that, two internal affairs detectives identified themselves, and escorted her out. Detective Skidmore identified himself and demanded they take him as well.
“We will come for you later. Don’t worry about that Detective.”
“Two right hooks in one day, his eyes are gonna shine tomorrow, “stated a passing detective,” looking down at the waking and groggy man on the floor.
“Why, who else hit him?” another asked.
“Skidmore…Skidmore decked him this morning after Thomson made a foul comment about her in the lunch room.”
The reporter quietly slipped out of the station and literally ran to his bosses’ office, five blocks away. Swallwell was left alone, in an interrogation room, until two strange men stepped in. They looked sinister enough to make her stand to face them. “Who are you?” she asked bluntly, remembering that her weapon had been taken from her.
“Never mind who we are, just shut up and listen.”
Just then, two internal affairs detectives walked in, and a short scuffle ensued, until one of them drew his weapon. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” said one of the strange government officials, as another detective pressed a panic button under the desk and removed the pairs weapons.
“No one comes in here and demands shit!” yelled the detective, holding his gun. “I don’t give a damn, who the fuck you are, fuck face!”
The room was instantly flooded with uniformed police, still tuned up with testosterone from recent events. Swallwell, could literally smell it, pervading the small room. “Get these fucks to lockup,” yelled one detective to a uniformed officer. “No one, I mean no one, talks to these bozos, until I arrive! Get it?”
“Yes Sir!” snapped both officers.
He closed the interview room door and turned on the video and recorder. “Who were those men?” Detective Swallwell ignored the question, not knowing who they were herself. “What did they say? Make note, suspect, excuse me Detective Swallwell, refuses to answer. We’ll leave that for now, Detective Swallwell. What were you thinking when you pulled your weapon in your superior’s office?” Penny asked for her lawyer.
“In time Detective, in time,”
A knock came to the interview room door after a few minutes of a silent staring contest. One of the internal affairs officers went to the door and opened it. Standing there, stoically, and grimed faced, was her seasoned lawyer, along with, Detective Skidmore.
“You know better Detective,” he stiffly remarked to the internal affairs guy, at the same time, handing him some documents. “Here. This tells you to release her, and to set up a proper meeting, with me present!”
“Let her go,” he said to his partner, leaning into the interview room.
“Any comments made in the video, are to be given to me…now,” said Penny’s lawyer. “I am also temporarily representing mister, excuse me, Detective Skidmore, so the same applies.”
“We’ll be seeing each other soon,” smirked internal affairs guy. “Oh and don’t go far!” he continued.
“Is that a command Detective?” asked the lawyer.
“No, just a friendly warning!”
“Then mind your own business!” snapped the lawyer, stepping off in a huff. He waited at the top of the hall for her. “You were well within your rights to arrest your boss. That is, unless you have don’t have proof. I’m assuming you have proof.
“My proof is the fact that he helped me arrest him, he must know somethings up?”
“I hope so, for your sake, I’ll be in touch.”
Dan Ger
