Some Degree of Murder

Wednesday, April 21st 1701 hrs 1612 East Wales-Crime Scene

TOWER

I sat on the bumper of Lieutenant Crawford’s car, holding a small Styrofoam cup of coffee between my hands. The entire block was crawling with detectives, crime-scene techs and patrol officers. Every possible kind of lookie-loo gathered at the edge of the yellow crime-scene tape at the end of the block, watching the high drama of a homicide scene.

The light windbreaker someone had given me did little to break the chill I was feeling. The rotgut coffee in my cup tasted like turpentine, but at least it was hot.

Rowdy was dead.

Because of me.

“A complete mess, Tower.” Crawford’s analysis broke into my private reverie.

I raised my eyes to his and considered telling him where to go, but the Deputy Chief appeared at my right.

“Leave him be, Crawford,” he said. “Why don’t you go find out when the Chaplain will be here, huh? And make sure that the patrol units on perimeter get relief.”

Crawford shot me a dirty look but muttered a “yes, sir” before shuffling off, chewing on his unlit cigar.

The Deputy Chief stared after him, then looked at me and shook his head. “And they say Civil Service is a blessing.”

I shrugged.

The Deputy Chief gave me a knowing nod and clapped me lightly on the shoulder. “It’ll be all right. Anything you need, you let me know. All right?”

I nodded at him absently.

“Anything,” he said pointedly.

I cleared my throat and said, “Thanks.”

He clapped me on the shoulder again and walked away toward the media vans at the opposite end of the street. I followed him with my gaze and then realized that the whole exchange had almost certainly been on camera. Everyone in River City would see what a great leader he was.

“John?”

I turned to look at Detective Ray Browning. His brow was furrowed in concern.

“Yeah?”

“Listen, John, I just need to get some things straight with you before…well, before other people are asking.”

I felt panic clawing in my stomach, but tried to remain outwardly calm. “Go ahead,” I said.

Browning rubbed his eyebrows. “Well, I’m just asking here, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And this is just between us, okay? I mean, this can be out of school, if you want it to be.”

“Does it need to be?”

“Yeah, probably. Hell, I don’t know.” He looked me directly in the eye. “John, you gotta know that Crawford and Hart are both going to climb your ass over this.”

“I know.”

“This cowboy stuff…it isn’t the way of the world anymore.”

I took a sip of coffee. “I know.”

Browning watched me for a moment, then asked, “When did you know Cody Heinz was the suspect in your homicide cases?”

I told Browning everything I could and only left out what I had to. His lips tightened when I admitted to talking to the Brotherhood at their clubhouse because it meant I’d stepped all over his case involving the Sammy G. homicide.

“Do you know who killed Sammy G.?”

“No,” I told him without hesitation.

Browning eyed me curiously. “You know that fire over at the Palms last night?”

“I haven’t heard.”

“Structure fire,” he said. “Burned up most of the place. Three dead bodies were found in one room. All of them were BSC. Funny thing is, it looks like they were dead before the fire started.”

I didn’t reply. My stomach was churning, though. I knew in an instant that somehow Virgil Kelley was to blame for those three, too. How many people had he murdered trying to get to Rowdy? Four? Five?

Doesn’t matter, I thought. What matters is that you helped him murder the last one.

“An awful lot of BSC are dying around here lately,” Browning said, still watching me.

Crawford appeared at the front of the car again. “Tower, I told you to get your ass off of my car,” Crawford said, adjusting his belt and switching the cigar to his left hand.

“We’re almost done here,” Browning broke in, “and then I think someone should run John to the station or home.”

Crawford sniffed and nodded. “Yeah, okay. Finish up.” He gave another puff on his cigar and waited.

Browning took out his notebook. “Now, John, you said that this guy Brian told you about Cody Heinz’s little hideout here-“

“Rowdy.”

Browning looked up. “Okay. Rowdy, then. So what happened when you got here?”

I took a breath and let it out. “I got here and walked up to the office. I heard music and yelling inside and saw that the door was forced. I figured the situation was exigent and so I made entry. Once inside-“

“Why didn’t you call for back-up?” Crawford asked.

“I left my radio in the car.”

“Not very smart.”

I shrugged. “A mistake.”

“What happened once you were inside, John?” Browning asked.

“Almost as soon as I got inside, the music stopped and I heard some yelling. A couple of seconds later, I heard a gunshot.”

“One?”

I nodded.

“Go on.”

“I went down the hallway and saw Rowdy laying on the ground and a white male standing over the top of him with a gun.”

“Did he match the description Mrs. Taylor and Brian Osmond gave you?”

I nodded. “Yeah, it coulda been the same guy.”

Browning jotted something in his notebook. “Then what happened?”

“Before I could do or say anything, he bolted for the back door. I fired three shots at him but I don’t think I hit him.”

“Why didn’t you chase him?” Crawford asked.

I looked at Crawford and wondered when the last time he chased anybody was. “I started to. Then I saw the girl.”

“You mean the crime scene you completely destroyed?” Crawford said.

I gave another shrug.

“You may think you’re some kind of supercop, Tower, but I got news for you. You screwed up this crime scene worse than any rookie could. You failed to keep me updated on developments in your case, even when you had to know you had a serial killer situation. And from what this Osmond kid is telling Billings right now, Lieutenant Hart is going to have you in Internal Affairs for an ass-reaming. I wouldn’t plan on staying in Major Crimes much longer, if I were you.”

“Whatever,” I muttered.

“What was that?” Crawford asked, his tone sharp.

I fixed him with an even gaze. “I said, whatever. Lieutenant.”

Crawford eyed me for another long moment, as if deciding whether or not to continue listing my sins for me. Maybe adding insubordination to the list. Finally, he spat on the ground next to my feet, shook his head and stalked away.

As I watched him go, Browning touched my shoulder. “You’re taking on the Crawfish now?”

“I’ve got no time for his bullshit.”

“You need to go home, John. I’ll have a uniform give you a ride.”

“No, I can drive.”

Browning pressed his lips together.

“Unless you’re holding my car,” I said.

Browning thought about for a minute, then shook his head. “All you did was call radio from it, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Then I’m not holding it.”

I nodded my thanks, but Browning held my gaze. “I just need to know something from you, John.”

“What?”

“Mistakes aside, can I investigate this knowing that everything is squared away?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Browning didn’t stop looking at me. “It means that aside from the business of not bringing in backup or other detectives and whatever happened at that kid Osmond’s house, is everything square on this case?”

“It’s all square.”

“And you’re sure?”

I gave him an unwavering stare directly into his eyes. “You ever known me to lie, Ray?”

Browning slowly shook his head.

“Okay, then,” I said and turned away. My stomach felt like there were streams of acid roiling inside it and my chest was heavy. I started walking toward my car.

“John!”

I turned back to Browning, wondering if he’d have his gun in one hand and his cuffs in the other. But he only stood at the front of Crawford’s car, watching me.

“Yeah?”

“Brittany. The girl inside is named Brittany Gardner. I thought you might want to know.”

My throat constricted and I couldn’t answer out loud. Instead, I gave him a nod of thanks and walked to my car. When the engine started up, I could feel the wetness on my cheeks and was surprised at it. I cruised slowly out of the outer crime scene and under the perimeter tape that the uniform officer lifted. He looked sixteen years old, though I knew he had to be at least twenty-one to be on the job. I hoped briefly that he hadn’t noticed the tears on my face, then I didn’t care.