Mirror Finish

By Gary B. Boyd

The city of Devaney is under assault. Police chief Keck asks Detective Sarah James to “quietly” investigate the circumstances surrounding an automobile accident that took the life of Mayor Clairmont. New mayor Kamen tries to force Chief Keck to change police practices to be more “citizen friendly.” An unscrupulous new drug supplier is selling fentanyl- and carfentanil-laced drugs, which is causing the deaths of Devaney young people. A crazed bar assailant with a knife has the city on edge.

Detective James’s two-person department juggles the cases and tries to stay above the conflict between the chief and the mayor. Sarah’s focus is to protect Devaney’s citizens and the integrity of Devaney Police Department.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9781728313665

Gary B. Boyd

Gary B. Boyd is a story teller. Whether at his cabin in the Ozark Mountains, at his desk in his home or on his deck overlooking Beaver Lake near Rogers, Arkansas, he writes his stories. His travels during his business career brought him in touch with a variety of people. Inquisitive, Gary watches and listens to the people he meets. He sees in them the characters that will fill his stories … that will tell their stories. A prolific author with more than a dozen published titles and a head full of tales yet to share, Gary submits to his characters and allows them to tell their own stories in their own way. The joy of completing a novel doesn’t lessen with time. There are more stories to tell, more novels to write. Gary expects to bring new characters to life for years to come. www.garybboyd.com

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© 2019 Gary B. Boyd. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Published by AuthorHouse 05/24/2019

ISBN: 978-1-7283-1349-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-1366-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019906741

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

DEDICATION

This novel is dedicated to America’s police officers, men and women who selflessly put their lives on the line every day and night so I can write my books and my readers can enjoy my books in safety.

CHAPTER ONE

Come on in, Sarah. Chief Bill Keck smiled at Senior Detective Sarah James and motioned her toward one of the walnut-stained, wooden chairs in front of his desk. How’s Boston working out? He’s probably got his hands full, what with the robbery last night.

Sarah smiled in return as she closed the Chief’s office door behind her and took the three small steps required to reach the offered chair. She adjusted the chair slightly before she sat and straightened her charcoal-gray suit jacket. The Detective was astute enough to understand the meeting was not about Boston. She responded. I think he’s going to work out fine. I don’t know if he’s aware of the latest robbery, though. He was on a stake-out last night. He left a cryptic message on my office phone sometime after midnight. I guess he didn’t want to wake me by calling my cell. He said he tagged-teamed Blake and was going home to get some sleep before he came to the station.

Boston Mankowitz was a relative newcomer to the Devaney Police Department. Chief Keck hired the man two years earlier to work for Lieutenant Anthony Tony Kendall as an undercover cop. At that time, the Chief was concerned about an uptick in drug trafficking through the small city, especially in light of the fact that national drug data indicated a seventy-percent increase in overdoses in the midsection of the United States. The Chief did not want drug usage, and ensuing overdose issues, to become part of Devaney’s culture. His concerns were shared by Mayor Clairmont.

Devaney’s location near the middle of the country made it a convenient crossroad for drug traffickers. There was easy access to interstates and to a small regional airfield that did not get the same scrutiny as a large airport. Devaney was small enough to be off the radar as a drug hub but large enough to allow some anonymity for the unsavory people who made a fortune distributing drugs – and misery - across the country. The mid-America city of Devaney would be used for as long as it was safe. In the end, the traffickers would either be arrested, or they would relocate to avoid arrest. Usually, if they suspected too much attention by law enforcement, they simply disappeared as quietly as they appeared, allowing low level hustlers to take the rap. Hiring Boston was a good move on Chief Keck’s part. No one knew him; very few of the Devaney police officers knew who he was. Boston seldom entered the police station, especially not as a cop. No one knew if he even owned an official uniform. He maintained a scraggly beard to fit his role while undercover. He reported for duty as part of Kendall’s team by appearing unannounced at a homeless camp outside of town and slowly integrating himself among the denizens of the drug world, just another wayward soul down on his luck.

Boston never talked about what he had to do to win the dealers’ trust, the deception that allowed him to access the names of two distributors, to bring them to justice. Sarah wondered, but did not really want to know. She was sure she would think less of him if she did.

Boston and Lieutenant Kendall’s other undercover man, Blake House, helped shake-up the drug traffickers. They achieved the arrest of two primary distributors, men who bought drugs from the traffickers, and of several high-volume dealers in the Devaney area. The discovery of the synthetic opiate fentanyl in the supply chain horrified Boston. He acted fast, maybe rashly to stop the distributors. The arrests came at the cost of Boston’s cover; a price Boston knew had to be paid to put a dent in the distribution of one of the most lethal drugs on the market. The arrests did not stop the flow of drugs through the country, but they did disrupt the traffic in that small part of the world. Sometimes that is all that can be done. Boston, and the Chief, hoped the disruption would slow the usage of illicit drugs by scaring away other dealers. But … drug dealers as a species are as resourceful as they are insidious. There is always another dealer ready to take the place of the fallen. The money is too good to ignore.

Boston did not turn his back on the war on drugs even though he was no longer a foot soldier on the battlefields. From his role as Detective, he still had a presence. He still had a voice. He pushed for all officers and paramedics to carry the latest generation of emergency drug-overdose treatment, nalmefene hydrochloride. In his mind, nalmefene, though not yet approved for indiscriminate use, was better for counteracting fentanyl than naloxone, Narcan. He developed a connection with second-term Mayor, Sebastian Clairmont, that was promising to yield support for his emergency drug response program. But that support came to a sudden end.

Boston Mankowitz was not Sarah’s first choice to be her Junior Detective. Keith Locke … hometown boy, military background, young and malleable … was strongest in her mind when she was promoted to Senior Detective. The honor of Senior Detective was bestowed upon her almost automatically after her mentor, Senior Detective Carl Franken, died. Sarah was a hard-charging, high-performance Sergeant when she earned the promotion to become Carl’s Junior Detective, to be mentored by one of the best. It was generally assumed she would be the Senior Detective in a police department that had only two detectives. But … Keith was still in his twenties, not a lot of police experience under his belt. Because Boston’s cover was blown when he had to act quickly to arrest the fentanyl distributors who were about to escape, he could no longer be effective as an undercover cop in the small city. His background and availability made him the best candidate to be Sarah’s Junior Detective. To put him in a patrol car would be a waste of talent. To dismiss him would be a loss of skills. Keith was not happy about it, but it did not seem to affect his relationship with Sarah.

I understand. It’s tough with limited resources. Glad to hear you think he’s doing okay, Chief Keck nodded thoughtfully. I know you were mentoring Keith. He waited for Sarah to reply.

Sarah smiled, exposing the single flaw in her physical beauty, a slightly crooked front tooth. She knew she was blushing. She nervously adjusted her jacket again, carefully straightening it against her neatly pressed pink blouse. Keith understands. She knew the Chief knew about her and Keith. Their personal relationship took root during her first solo case, a serial killer whose short career began in a vacant lot at the edge of the city and ended in a homeless camp on the Texas coast. He knows there are other opportunities available in the department if he stays focused.

That’s a fact. Chief Keck leaned back and chuckled. I’ve told him that I never got to be a detective and yet, here I am. He’s young enough to be impatient when his career hits a bump in the road, but also, he’s young enough to have plenty of time to recover if he’s thrown off course.

Sarah felt nervous. It was not unusual for Chief Keck to visit with her. After all, she was his Detective Department Head, the Senior Detective. He talked to all his Department Heads to stay in touch and offer help. Bill Keck was a cop’s cop, risen from the ranks in the same city where he was born. He did not like to be out of the loop on issues or cases. It was odd that he would be making conversation about Boston when she was in the middle of a crime wave, or at least what was considered a crime wave in the small city of Devaney - two jewelry store robberies in less than two weeks. The Chief’s demeanor indicated something was on his mind, something that made him nervously hesitant. Chief, what’s on your mind?

Chief Keck blinked and slowly began to flex his jaw. He exhaled and grinned. You can see right through me, can’t you?

Not really, but you seem nervous. Something’s bothering you. Is something going on with Boston I should know about? In the back of her mind, the mysteries of Boston’s past begged to be exposed.

No! Not at all, the Chief exclaimed. "Nothing to do with Boston. I really was wondering how it was working out for you, since I pushed him off on you like I did. And I know you’re busy with the latest robbery on your plate."

It was the right move. The city can’t afford to lose him. Boston is a good man with a lot of skills. I’m sure I’m going to learn from him. Sarah felt relieved. The latest robbery is more than likely kith and kin of the Cirilo’s robbery. Boston has taken point on the Cirilo’s case. From what we’ve gathered this morning, the MO appears to be the same, but we’re not jumping to conclusions … and I’ve not discussed it with Boston yet. If they match up, he’ll have point on this one too. She shifted her position in the hard - though comfortable - chair.

Chief Keck shook his head slightly. I’m glad to hear that. That’s what Carl saw in you when he came to me and insisted that I make you his Junior Detective. You’re like a sponge … in a good way. He chuckled self-deprecatingly. You learn from everyone and everything. I like to think I’m kind of like that, he pulled a manila folder from a desk drawer as he spoke, which is the reason I wanted to talk to you. I have a case I would like you to take a look at, your eyes only.

Sarah was slightly taken aback. It was unusual for the Chief to have a case, especially a secretive case. She leaned forward. What do you have?

The Mayor’s death, the Chief said flatly.

His car wreck?

Let’s just say, I’m not buying what I see and hear.

Our people did the investigation. If I remember right, it was reported that the Mayor dozed off as he entered a sharp curve on Porter Road. His car wrapped around a power pole. Do you think Taylor missed something? Lieutenant Taylor McCuskey was a long-time officer with Devaney PD. At forty-eight, she was only half a decade behind Chief Keck in service time, third most senior person in the department, and was seriously thorough about her job. There was a lot of information in the report to support the investigating officers’ findings, nothing to indicate it might be a crime. Since it was outside of her purview, Sarah only gave the investigation precursory interest at the time … mere curiosity on her part. It was a Traffic Division issue. Her history with Mayor Clairmont was not good, but their relationship had improved. Sebastian Clairmont’s behavior as Mayor had improved enough that he was actually re-elected to a second term. She was saddened by his death, like nearly everyone else in the small city.

Something’s not right. It’s no secret that he and I didn’t see eye-to-eye for a long time, but he supported Devaney PD whole heartedly while we were going after the drug dealers. I think the timing of his death, so soon after we busted the local drug ring, was too convenient to be coincidence. I don’t think it’s as simple as it seems.

Sarah nodded toward the folder, What do you have?

Chief Keck turned the folder in his hands as he stared at it. Not much really. His personal effects didn’t reveal anything. They were given to his wife after the investigation. McCuskey’s people seemed to be thorough with their investigation. Just an uneasy feeling, stemming from the Mayor’s time in politics. Suddenly, out of nowhere, there was money backing Sebastian again. I thought his career in politics was over after the Overton fiasco. He crossed the line with his biggest backer. I was surprised he didn’t get recalled. But he came back with new life. Even got re-elected. Now, Jordon Kamen is front and center, out of nowhere, taking over as Mayor. Too many surprises. Something’s not right over at City Hall.

Sarah watched the Chief’s face and eyes. The man was in his mid-fifties but looked older, or at least, he looked haggard. The job of Police Chief isn’t an easy one, caught between professionalism and politics, even in a small city – or maybe it was more so in a small city. She hoped for insight into his unease. She would keep him talking. "Kamen was on the City Council. Typically, an interim Mayor is selected from among the sitting Councilmen. I heard it was almost unanimous."

I know. But … it doesn’t make sense that those established Councilmen would have given her, a first-term Councilwoman, their support. I expected the position to go to one of the older guys – someone who’s been around awhile and knows the ropes, someone without an agenda - to finish Sebastian’s term. Jordon Kamen’s politics are way out there, a vegan environmentalist. She doesn’t fit the middle of the road profile normal to Devaney. From where I sit, I’d say someone got to the Council and pushed her through. As the saying goes, she’s not from around here. I don’t trust her as much as I trusted Sebastian – and I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw his fat carcass. From what I see, she’s not going to be good for Devaney PD. Sebastian was coming around. The Chief handed the folder across his desk to Sarah. Can you look into this … quietly?

Sarah understood. Chief Keck had faith in her - a woman - as a detective, as his Senior Detective. Because of Carl Franken, she had the opportunity to prove herself. Even though Chief Keck openly supported women in leadership roles, those roles were all subservient to him. Reporting to a female might not be something he could do comfortably, especially not a woman whose political inclinations were diametrically opposed to his. Sarah took the folder and opened it. The standard Motor Vehicle Accident Report, MVAR, was inside. A quick scan indicated nothing unusual, though it had more detail than most reports. It was, after all, the Mayor’s accident. Photographs taken during the investigation were also inside the folder. Lots of photographs. Graphic photographs that tried to force her eyes away. But again, nothing unusual. Her case load was heavy. Only two detectives in a city the size of Devaney meant long hours and constant interruptions from people demanding faster answers – the Chief being the loudest among them. She nodded. "I’ll see what I can find. It has been almost two months." She added the last sentence as a cautionary statement, a statement meant to lower expectations. Accident scenes quickly fall victim to time.

Chief Keck leaned back and exhaled, I understand. Just do what you can. I know you have other, more pressing cases. Maybe I’m wrong, but I really don’t care for Jordon Kamen.

Sarah knew the interim Mayor had been making demands on the Chief to change … or as Jordon Kamen phrased it, to transform police department practices. The Mayor wanted police officers to be more citizen friendly by making more community contacts and reducing their focus on writing tickets or making arrests. In the Mayor’s mind, Citizen Friendly had a good ring to it, and she was pushing the phrase to be the new city motto.

Boston shuffled toward his desk in his cubicle. His morning cup of coffee shook slightly in his trembling hand. Sarah grinned at the sight. Boston was single – twice divorced - and a couple of years older than her. She still wasn’t accustomed to his new appearance. She knew him as the unshaved, unkempt homeless man who assisted with the Overton murder and kidnapping case. In his undercover persona, Boston Mankowitz always wore layers of clothing. His uniform, along with his shaggy beard and a mangled hat, covered every inch of his body except his nose and eyes. He always carried the smells of a destitute person, unwashed and accumulated. In his new role, his face was smooth shaved. His skin was darker than white - but still sun deprived pale - and acne scarred. His eyes were deep brown, almost black, and nervously watchful – a defensive habit formed while living undercover. He smelled of tobacco smoke that clung to his clothes, at times stale and overpowering to Sarah, a non-smoker.

Good morning, Boston, Sarah chirped. It was almost nine o’clock. Boston’s phone message was clear that he was on a stake-out most of the night. She had not expected him to be in the station before noon. She was glad he was, so she could update him on the latest jewelry store robbery. She was sure the news would not be welcome.

Boston blinked to lubricate his bloodshot eyes. He grunted, Morning. Late night.

Lieutenant Kendall overheard the pair. Hey Boston. You been out partying again? He laughed at his former undercover cop.

I wish. I got more sleep at the dump than I do here in civilization. Boston’s trembling hand lifted the cup of hot coffee to his lips. He softly blew and then sipped carefully. Satisfied that it wouldn’t burn too badly, he gulped a portion of the dark liquid. He licked errant drops from his lips and wiped at an invisible beard that no longer became a trap for food and drink. At least the coffee is better here. No grounds … or ashes. Boss, I have some information on the Cirilo’s robbery. You got time?

Sarah nodded. She would have preferred to talk to him about the new robbery, to make sure he knew. If you’ll give me a moment to refill my cup, she replied as she nodded toward her desk. You want to meet here or in the Situation Room?

Boston glanced at his messy desk. If the Sit Room is available, that would be better. I haven’t got around to cleaning my desk. He knew he never would.

I’ll be right there, Sarah said as she went to her cubicle and retrieved her ceramic coffee cup. The cup was a surprise gift from a detective in another city who helped her track down a serial killer, her first solo case. That was the case that taught her the value of getting all the facts before acting, the case where she made what she called her Maxie Mistake. A young girl’s life was nearly ruined because Sarah had jumped to conclusions based upon circumstantial evidence. Detective Daniel Sanders was a fan of Davey Crockett. He sent her a cup with his favorite quote, his motto, Make sure you’re right then go ahead. Because of her penchant for gray pantsuits, the cup was ash colored with rose-colored lettering. At that moment, the right thing to do was to let Boston share his information before she added hers. She poured a small amount of coffee into her cup, just enough to recoup the lost temperature, not enough to require more sugar. She never stirred her coffee. She simply dumped sugar in the bottom of the cup and then added coffee. The last drop was always the sweetest.

In the Situation Room, Boston was carefully laying out pieces of paper and photos on a table to display the evidence he had on the Cirilo’s Jewelry robbery. Sarah watched politely as she sipped her coffee. Her warm-up had roiled the sugar, enhancing the sweetness of every sip.

Boston’s shakes slowly dissipated as his sleep-fogged mind cleared, and the caffeine stimulated his nervous system. He grinned embarrassedly when he realized how attentively Sarah was watching his every move. He stepped back from the table. Okay. You ready to hear this? He drained his cup and set it at the end of his row of exhibits.

Absolutely, Sarah nodded vigorously. Are we ready to make an arrest – or two?

Boston smirked, "That wouldn’t be citizen friendly, now would it?" Mayor Kamen’s words were an anathema to sincere law enforcement officers.

Sarah knew better than to laugh, but she almost spewed her coffee. While it was tempting to openly mock the Mayor’s naiveté, it wasn’t politically correct to do so. "Let me rephrase, do you have enough evidence to make a community contact?"

Boston grinned. "I think so. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t missing something before I contacted some wrists with cold steel. As you know, he pointed toward a robbery report and a cluster of crime scene photos, we had the BAE at Cirilo’s Jewelry downtown. The crooks gained entry by cutting a hole in the glass, so they could unlock the door by reaching through the hole to turn the bolt and push the panic bar. The alarm didn’t activate during the burglary, so the thieves had all the time in the world to clear the cases and open the safe."

Boston indicated the photos of the glass door, the alarm panel, the empty display cases and the open safe door. Forensics found no unusual fingerprints, just employees and a few stray customer prints on the tops of the counters. The thieves wore gloves for sure. And they were good. He indicated a close-up photo of the safe door and the combination lock. Initially, these scars along the edges of the door seemed to indicate they pried the safe door open. Odie Curry, from Odie’s Locksmith, checked the safe for me. He swears the combination was used to open the door. According to him, the pry marks were just scratches, possibly put there for effect – or preexisting.

An inside job? Sarah asked.

That was my thought initially, and I pursued that for a couple of days. But … Hector Cirilo said something that piqued my interest. Boston pushed a photo of the alarm panel forward for emphasis. He told me that all alarm systems connected to the city’s emergency services call center, the 9-1-1 dispatchers, must be serviced and tested twice annually to make sure they are working properly, no systemic false alarms. Because of his business, he is connected to the dispatchers rather than just his security service. His alarm system provider performed the last inspection a month before the robbery. He paused.

Sarah raised her eyebrows in anticipation of Boston’s pending revelation. She hoped it provided the answer to the latest robbery. So, it was the alarm Tech?

That certainly crossed my mind when he told me that. I thought maybe the alarm Tech did something to disable the alarm in anticipation of the heist. So, I got a Tech from another alarm company, a rival company, to check the system for tampering. Nothing. The alarm was fully functional. No reason it shouldn’t have contacted the dispatch office after they broke in.

Interesting. Sarah was forming thoughts, trying to get ahead of Boston’s case in her mind, trying to tie his case to the new one. She sipped her coffee to quell her desire to interrupt.

Boston stood erect and looked into Sarah’s eyes. Nothing wrong with the system, so I decided the alarm didn’t activate because Hector didn’t set it. He had to have left the shop alarm system unarmed, coincidental to the break-in. I asked the alarm company if the system recorded alarm activity. It does. It did. The alarm was set about 7:30 the evening of the break-in. A little later than usual, but not out of the ordinary. Hector is a creature of habit. He always opens and closes his shop himself. He doesn’t trust anyone else with his code. Fair weather or foul, in sickness and in health, his store is open ten to seven, six days a week. Someone activated the timer on the alarm about 12:30 that night but entered the code to stop it within the thirty second interval. Whoever took the jewelry knows the code. Whoever took the jewelry knows how to crack safes. He leaned forward and pushed a printed page a couple of inches toward Sarah, for emphasis. The paper held time stamps, the alarm system’s activation and deactivation history for the week of the robbery.

Surprisingly, Hector doesn’t have security cameras – not real ones. It seems that most of the businesses downtown have fake cameras, little red lights on plastic cameras mounted to the ceiling, intended to fool honest people. Our thieves knew that.

Sarah remembered the fake security cameras she encountered while investigating the Overton murder. Most of the businesses who used fakes were not high-profile targets for robbery. They didn’t carry enough cash or fencible inventory value to attract undue attention in the small city; a real camera system was an expense that did not make good business sense. The jewelry store owner should have known better, but he saved a few dollars.

All of that, the alarm deactivation, the fake cameras, the safe door opening, means an inside job or experts in BAE and safe cracking. Boston paused to allow Sarah to comment.

So it would seem. Sarah did not want to say more than that. It was Boston’s case, his detective work, his story. Anything she said about the new robbery would create clutter in Boston’s presentation.

I ruled out inside job after a few days, mostly because of the hole in the glass. Hector is tight, tight with his money, tight with his business, especially keys, codes and combinations. And he’s not very tech savvy. The most high-tech thing he has is his alarm system, but it doesn’t include glass break alarms. I narrowed it down to one possibility. He pushed a photo of a middle-aged man forward. Meet Ben Myers, Tech for A1 Security and Alarms, the Tech who serviced Cirilo’s system. Ben has been with A1 for over a year. They say he is one of the best they’ve ever had. He knows alarms. His work record says he knows locks as well.

What brought your focus back to him? I thought you said you ruled him out. The possibility that the Tech was responsible for both robberies loomed large in Sarah’s mind. She had to let Boston continue uninterrupted.

I did at first, because there was only circumstantial evidence to indicate the Tech. I didn’t want to fall into that trap and ruin a good man’s life.

Boston probably did not know about Maxie. Maxie was before his time with Devaney PD. Even so, his words caused Sarah to shudder as she remembered the belligerent teenager who was convicted of murder in the court of public opinion based upon Sarah’s incomplete detective work. Only because of something Maxie said at a court hearing did Sarah open her mind to other possibilities and move on to find the real killer. Boston apparently learned that lesson as well, hopefully in a less traumatic way. She often wondered if Carl Franken knew the truth about Maxie but was willing to allow things to play out the way they did to help Sarah learn a tough lesson, or if he was also duped by the circumstances surrounding Maxie as she was. Sarah said all she needed to say at that moment, Absolutely.

"I ran a background check on Myers’ work history. He has worked for several security companies around the country since he got out of the military. Never more than a couple of years at any place. Locksmith. Alarms and security systems. That sort of thing. All security related work. A little deeper digging uncovered that everywhere he worked, clients of the companies suffered losses through breaking and entering robberies. The MOs were very similar. Always businesses without glass break alarms. A hole in the glass to gain entry, alarm deactivated, and safes opened as if he knew the combination – like an insider. The cases that were closed were blamed on employees because of the circumstances. I can understand that. Anyway, I didn’t know if he had partners or was working alone, so I began checking A1’s client list, to see if any of the clients’ employees had conveniently switched jobs about the same time as Myers.

"The toughest thing to crack was the safe – how he got the safe opened easily, professionally. For one thing, a really good safe cracker wouldn’t be hitting little jewelry stores. I figured the thieves included a gang member who worked for a short time in the target stores until he could ferret out the safes’ combinations. I couldn’t make a connection between Myers and any employees. I went back to Cirilo’s store and did a tight sweep. I found a camera. Attached to the bottom of a shelf across the aisle from the safe. A tiny little camera with remote capability. It worked through the shop’s own wi-fi to transmit video. It was focused on the safe. At first, I thought it was something the owner installed to monitor his safe, extra security to offset the fake cameras. I asked. It wasn’t. But, whenever Cirilo unlocked his safe, the camera captured it, every number and every move. The live action was visible to anyone savvy in security camera systems.

I went to all of A1’s clients in town and looked for a camera like that. I found one. Boston pushed a fuzzy photo taken in dim light for Sarah to see.

Sarah was puzzled. Why did he leave the camera? That was sure to lead back to him.

Boston paused, slightly flustered by her question. Messed up is all I can figure.

The answer did not satisfy Sarah, but she decided to go with Boston’s flow. Is that him? she asked as she studied the photograph of a man standing near a shop door, obviously at night. She couldn’t see what the man was doing, but she could easily imagine he was cutting the glass on the paned door. It was Bergenheim’s Jewelry store, the latest robbery. Boston saw it in real time. That’s Bergenheim’s Jewelry! Sarah exclaimed.

"Yes. This was the only other high dollar client on A1’s list without glass break alarms and with a hidden camera focused on the safe."

Sarah knew that glass break alarms do not have a delay. The second a glass break is detected, the alarm sounds. Security companies and police departments hate them because a sudden wind gust or strong thunder can mimic the vibration of a glass break and trigger a false alarm signal.

I knew he would be coming for them. I was surprised he hadn’t already done so. Apparently, he didn’t have the safe combination until recently – or was worried we would find the secret camera. My initial focus around inside job potential gave him confidence that I was going the wrong way. I’ve been watching him like a hawk for the last two days and nights. Boston shoved a final picture that showed the man furtively leaving through the front door with a large tote bag. It was an open and shut case, if there ever was one.

You didn’t arrest him at the time?

I want to find his fence. No sense doing a job halfway. I asked Blake to stay on him while I got some rest and checked in with you. I called night patrol to send a unit to start the evidence gathering – and to see if the camera was still there. He remembered to take it this time.

Interesting. There’s no place for him to fence jewelry in Devaney, Sarah commented hesitantly. She did not like the idea of letting a criminal walk free in hopes of catching another criminal. If it was a small-time drug dealer versus a trafficker, she could understand, but a fence is not a step above a robber. Putting a fence out of business won’t stop theft. Boston would have to learn when to say when, to stop thinking like a drug traffic buster. A bird in the hand … as the saying goes.

I know. I need your authorization to follow him wherever he goes. Boston looked expectantly at his boss.

Sarah let her eyes follow the trail of pages and pictures one more time. She would prefer to simply arrest Myers, to solve two major cases in one fell swoop, but it seemed that the die had already been cast. Bring the receipts … and remember, we have a small budget.

Boston’s brow wrinkled. Which is more important, arresting a serial criminal or meeting budget?

I’m sorry you felt the need to ask that. Sarah looked Boston in the eyes. Get the SOB … and his fence.

Will do. Boston swept his evidence together into a neat pile and stuffed the stack into a manila envelope. He pulled the open end together tight enough to use the metal clasp to secure it.

Sarah felt good about the case, though a little uneasy about Boston’s approach. Even so, Boston was respectful by sharing what he had. He just as easily could have simply followed Myers to the fence and returned with both men in cuffs. He would have been within the scope of his job. She heard Boston’s cell phone ring and then heard him ask, What do you have, Blake?

Boston’s face was lit with excitement when he turned to Sarah and nodded. Still talking to Blake, Boston grabbed his car keys and hurried across the cubicled squad room. He was on his way.

Sarah set her empty coffee cup on her desk and went to update the Chief. He would be relieved to hear two major cases were solved. She knew Keith would not have solved the case as rapidly as Boston did. She doubted that she would have either.

CHAPTER TWO

Keith’s patrol car was parked in the parking space where Sarah normally parked her car. She shook her head. She knew he was doing it as a prank, a flirty aggravation, forcing her to park farther from her apartment entrance. She did not really care. The few steps extra were not an issue, but she would find a way to one-up him.

Still being single at thirty-seven was never a consideration among the array of possibilities Sarah entertained when she was a young girl. At an early age, she thought about marriage just like most females in her generation. Having a family was a given. Sarah expected, without planning or preparation, to have her statistically valid 3.17 children before she turned thirty - just like the average married American woman. But … she got a better offer. She loved police work more than she loved the thought of being a wife or a mother. She never gave thought to the statistically shorter life expectancy of police officers versus the public they protected. The work was stressful, dealing with people at their worst or in their worst moments. Despite all the negatives, it was satisfying to know she was making a positive difference in people’s lives, even the ones who did not think so. She was married to her work from the day Chief Keck handed her the badge that bound her to the job more strongly than a wedding band.

But … being single did not mean being lonely. Sarah liked … maybe loved … Corporal Keith Locke. Charming, in a sophomoric sort of way. Handsome with riveting blue eyes and a solid jaw line. He tried to grow a mustache from time to time but it never filled in to suit him, so it was on-again off-again. He kept his head shaved, easier to manage, plus it fit with the younger patrolmen and their sense of bravado. Devaney Police Department had an unwritten anti-fraternization policy and frowned on personal entanglements among the officers. That did not prevent an occasional tryst, simple romantic involvements that generally led to nowhere in the scheme of things. If one of those assignations reached a point of enmity, the Chief would step in and terminate the participants for conduct detrimental to the department. He made no bones about it. Both parties gone. The department could not afford the risks that came with broken relationships. Sarah knew the potential outcome of her affair with Keith. She held him close at night but at arm’s length during the day, literally as well as figuratively.

Sarah pushed the fob button and heard the short honk that told her that her unmarked, black car was locked. She parked in an area normally relegated to apartment guest. She could have parked in the front row, close to the sidewalk, near where Keith’s squad car was parked. There was an empty spot, but that would have forced one of her neighbors to park farther away when she came home. Sarah was a thoughtful neighbor. She walked past Keith’s black and white. The new Mayor did not like the authoritarian look of the color scheme. Mayor Kamen wanted the squad cars to be repainted two-tone green with her brainchild motto Citizen Friendly put in place of the standard police motto, To Protect and to Serve. Chief Keck dug in his heels to prevent that from happening. Jordon Kamen did not realize how strong an ally the Chief could be, nor did she understand what a formidable foe he would be. Mayor Clairmont learned that lesson the hard way. Apparently, Mayor Kamen would have to go down the same road. Sarah reached across the front windshield of Keith’s car and lifted both wipers into their service positions. She snickered to herself as she envisioned Keith driving onto the street without noticing the wipers standing at attention.

The apartment door was unlocked. She expected as much. Keith embraced her from behind when she closed the door, something he always did if he arrived ahead of her.

I’ve been waiting for you, Keith whispered as he nuzzled the back of her neck. His breath was warm.

Sarah laughed. I can feel it. She pressed her rear against him. She turned and kissed him full on the lips. Are you staying the night?

Keith loosened his embrace, so Sarah could turn to face him, but he kept his arms around her. He pressed against her flat belly. I was thinking about it. You weren’t expecting someone else, were you? He smiled mischievously, with a hint of sarcasm.

Sarah understood the undertone. It was a dig against Boston, or better put, against her selection of Boston as Junior Detective. Keith knew the reasons. She had explained it clearly, but he still pouted about it occasionally. Well, I was expecting a man, … but I suppose you will do, she said with a coy look and a soft grin.

Keith’s face erupted in a huge grin. He abruptly began nibbling on her neck playfully. I’ll show you a man. He took her hand and led her toward the bedroom.

Sarah rolled over to lean her cheek on Keith’s bare chest. She pushed her hair away from her face. Her index finger traced a figure eight on his sternum. I better go fix something to eat. It’s been a long day.

I ordered Chinese for seven o’clock. We’ve got time for one more round. Keith leaned up to kiss her.

Sarah completed the kiss then lifted herself into a seated position. I have work to do before the food arrives, and I don’t intend to answer the door dressed like this. She stood up, naked and flushed. She reached for a pair of loose gym shorts and a tee shirt, her bum around the house clothes. Keith fondled her while she giggled and half-heartedly pushed his hands away as she struggled to put on the clothes. He only stopped when she finally pulled the tee shirt down and guided his hand away from her breasts. She was still trim, the result of almost daily visits to the gym. Her mother was a trim woman. Sarah came by her general physical condition naturally, but the visits to the gym accounted for the tone of her muscles. She laughed at Keith when he followed her from the bedroom wearing a pair of baggy gym shorts that were on backward.

The TV blared a recap of the day’s news, talking heads repeating the same things they said at five o’clock, even with the same promise of more information as the story continues to break. The hot topic that seemed to merit airtime hit close to home for Sarah. Mayor Kamen was expressing her dismay that the police department had made no progress in solving the Cirilo’s Jewelry store robbery and that a second robbery at Bergenheim’s Jewelry occurred overnight. Sarah recognized the interviewing reporter. Kyren Bailey worked for one of the local stations. The young woman with artificially created blonde hair covered the Overton case and was always frantically trying to get the scoop on the latest stories, trying to build her resume for that elusive job in a bigger market. Her verbiage was typical of newly graduated journalists - even though she was not that new, filled with catch phrases and buzz words and attention getting adjectives. Her face was expressive, almost comically so. Kyren closed the interview with a recorded live stand-up filmed in front of Devaney PD. Chief Keck was unwilling to appear on camera to respond to the Mayor’s concerns about the slowness of the investigation and how that may have contributed to the current crime wave. Senior Detective James was unavailable for comment, maybe off working on the case.

Keith was in mid-slurp on a can of beer. So, is your boy Boston ever going to solve that little robbery?

Sarah caught the sarcasm. She did not like it. It made Keith sound petty, but she knew he could be. He already has. He’ll call me as soon as the arrest is made.

Really? You hadn’t said anything, Keith said accusatively.

How could I? You started yanking my clothes off as soon as I came through the door, Sarah laughed. Boston has been keeping this one low key to not alert the perp that he’s on to him. Criminals are greedy by nature and their greed always catches them.

And he still doesn’t have them in cuffs? What’s taking him so long?

It’s a long drive to Kansas City and back, Sarah replied dismissively. Boston had called her with an update just before she left the station. He had contacted an undercover friend in Kansas City to assist on the case when Ben Myers entered the Kansas City area. He was sure Myers would meet with the Fence overnight. Sarah offered to help but Boston said he had it covered with his network of contacts. She understood the value of networking with other detectives to solve cases.

Kansas City?

You didn’t think this was a local thing, did you? Sarah answered his question with a question. She wanted to put Keith in his place. If he ever wanted to achieve his goals, he needed to think bigger, be open-minded to things that did not fit his paradigm. Their relationship might prevent him from becoming a detective, but his pettiness would prevent him from advancing in other areas. It’s okay to be tough, to question the accepted norm. It’s not okay to be resistant to changes for purely personal reasons.

I don’t know anything. I’m not a detective, remember.

Sarah tried not to scowl her displeasure with Keith’s attitude. She knew her topaz eyes probably looked darker