The White Angel Murder

23

Stanton hit record on the digital recorder in the front seat. He turned back to Francisco. “Kelly Ann Madison. On the day of Tami’s murder she traded shifts with Kelly. You spoke with her but never put it into your report. Why?”

Francisco grew visibly agitated. He moved around in the seat and stared out the window and then would look down at his hands and then out the window again. Stanton stayed quiet.

“I was told not to,” he said.

“By who?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Francisco, I need your help.”

“I know. But I can’t. But he ain’t the killer you’re looking for anyway. And I ain’t no snitch.”

“Snitch for what?”

Francisco shook his head without looking up.

“I know it’s a cop, can you at least acknowledge that for me?”

“Yeah,” he said, forcing the words out. “But he didn’t do her.”

“But he knows who did, doesn’t he?”

“I don’t know, man,” he scoffed. “This is bullshit, man. All turning to shit. I thought I was doing a favor, you know. Looking out for my brothers in blue, you know what I’m saying?”

“They will never know we spoke. I will deny everything and not testify in court about it.”

“Can’t help you, brother. I said all I can. I ain’t no snitch.” He opened the door and got out of the car. He walked to the driver side and rested his hands on the top of the car. “Keep digging, Detective. You’ll find what you’re looking for. But I can’t help you.”

*****

Stanton returned to the office and collapsed into his chair. He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling a long time and then pulled out two Excedrin from his pocket. He took them with water out of a day-old plastic bottle. He noticed for the first time that Jessica was standing in the doorway.

“Hey, rough day?” she said.

“Yeah.” He put his feet up on the desk and crossed his hands over his stomach. “How was the meeting?”

“Didn’t happen.”

“Why?”

“You weren’t there. Harlow said everyone or no one. They’ve been waiting for you to come back. Conference room in ten.”

Everyone was seated by the time Stanton walked in and sat down near the front of the room by Harlow. His head was pounding and he was starting to see stars. He leaned back as far as he could but the fluorescent lights penetrated his eyelids. He stood up and turned them off. Sunlight was still coming through the windows and breaking into fragments through the blinds.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Stanton asked.

“That’s fine,” Harlow said without looking up from an ipad. He quickly glanced around and made sure everyone was here. “Jon, I know you’re busy, we all are. But I would really like everyone here Monday mornings if possible.”

“I had to catch a witness when they weren’t expecting me. I’ll make sure I’m on time next week.”

“Great,” he said, a grin coming over him. Stanton knew he thought he had just performed some wonderful managerial sleight of hand. “Let’s get to business. Ho, what’s going on?”

Chin was dressed in a Calvin Klein pin-stripe suit and wore designer sunglasses pushed up onto his forehead. His blue tie had little British flags on it.

“Todd Grover, this was the liquor store owner that was shot in his store. The original arresting officer’s report was sloppy cause he was green. He left the PD to become manager of a nightclub downtown. We tracked him down but he didn’t remember much. Most of the witnesses have moved away or gotten locked up. I think one of them died. In the ghetto nobody sticks around for too long I guess. We’re following up with them though. Shouldn’t be too long before we track a couple of them down.”

“Good as can be done,” Harlow said. “Nathan.”

“Alberto Domingez Jovan. Shot in front of twenty people in the parking lot of a strip club. I don’t know nothing has become I don’t remember nothing. Rough going for now but there’s one witness I spoke with that’s holding something back. When I was at her house I smelled weed. I’m thinking get a bust and use it as leverage.”

“Good thinking. Run anything you need by Tommy. Philip, what’dya got?”

“Rodrigo Carrillo. Killed during a drive-by. I’ve got a suspect.” He waited for a reaction and when he didn’t receive one he cleared his throat. “Gang member that, get this, dated his girl after he was killed. They met at his funeral. I’m putting together an affidavit for a warrant of his house. I think he’s still got the firearm they used in the drive-by.”

“Good work. Keep me informed. Jessica?”

“James Damien Neary. Stabbed while walking home. No leads, no witnesses panning out. So far, it’s just random.”

“Nothing’s random,” Harlow said. “Keep digging. You’ll turn up something.” Jessica nodded but didn’t look at him. “Jon?”

Stanton thought a moment before speaking. “Tami Jacobs. Have a lead I’m following up on.”

“What is it?” Harlow said.

“She may have … she may have been dating a cop that was never identified.”

“Christ,” Harlow said. “You sure?”

“Not yet. But a co-worker said a cop used to pick her up from work. Tami talked about him a couple of times and told people they were sleeping together.”

Harlow thought about mentioning something: Stanton kept using her first name instead of victim or subject. It made him uncomfortable but he decided to skip it. “Why wasn’t that in the initial reports?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Jon,” he said, pointing his finger, “that information doesn’t leave this room. Understood?”

“Yeah.”

Harlow tapped his finger against the desk, staring out the window. He was lost in thought a long time and then said, “Jessica, drop Neary. I’m bringing in a couple of new detectives to the unit soon and I’ll pass it to one of them. Partner up with Jon and follow this Jacobs case through.”

“Sure.”

“Good. All right, I’m pleased so far guys. I’m hearing good things and it seems like resources are being used wisely and sparingly. Keep it up. Meeting next week we’ll probably have some new faces so treat them well. Dismissed.”

Stanton watched as Harlow rose and dialed a number on his phone. He was speaking before he was out the door. He had never before used the phrase dismissed to excuse a meeting.

“Well,” Jessica said standing up, “I guess that’s it for Neary. Where are we on Jacobs?”

Stanton motioned for his office and they walked there together. He shut the door and sat her down. He sat on the edge of the desk and folded his arms.

“One of the assigned detectives on the case told me that someone higher up ordered him not to include good evidence in the initial homicide report.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“What’re we gonna do?”

“I don’t know. Usually when it happens it turns out someone’s just covering their butts.”

“Did he tell you who it was?”

“No. And I don’t think he will.”

“Any hunches?”

“One. And we should follow up on him now.”