Chapter 17 - the State of Things
I initially found it hard to believe his assessment of that night. What I had taken for an energy drink and creme filled doughnut fueled fun junket? He had diagnosed as a middle of the night, classic, zero dark thirty hit. Since he was supposedly a military contractor at one time? I asked exactly when was, zero dark thirty.
He chuckled and asked me what my pet theory was on it. Well, I said. Zero? Was nothing. It was also dark at the only time of any day, when zero hours meant midnight. To me, clearly? It was half past midnight. He said there is no actual zero dark thirty? Its just a phrase for a wee hours invasion. But, that I got "points" for thinking half past midnight, what with midnight being hour zero and all. I was at least being logical.
His guesses and hunches had been spot on and golden all this time so far, I quickly grew used to the idea they were still on target. Unless something was reported wrong? I had witnessed, basically all things considered? Some kind of a hit. Carried out by the county drug task force.
I had my cheap 1,024 by 768 digital picture taking binoculars with me that night. Really cheap, but if distance and magnification and image quality are pretty much loose and anything goes? Why not be able to take half decent low resolution pictures.
Mine took video, too. I had some. I hadn't thought of all this before coming out this weekend, and had left my cheap video binoculars at home. I brought them the next weekend, and showed him on my laptop the recording.
The fairly low resolution that 1,024 by 768 is these days, it clearly showed a female and two accompanying males. Gear bags in hands. Going up the street a ways. I had video of the "pictures snapping", and showed it to him. Even in low resolution, he said... yep, that's what gunfire looks like, at night. Pops of light. You don't hear the soft little pops. From inside your own car, up the block some, inside another house. Its just not television explosion loud. You get outside the room the gunfire is in? It gets progressively tamer.
He said. Inside the room the gun goes off in? Your ears not just ring, but practically hurt from some handguns. Next door, through the wall and closed doors. It sounds like a sledgehammer went off on something. Maybe a bigger than legal firecracker. And that was just the next room in the same house.
Outside a closed up house? Its barely anything above a soft popping noise. Really doesn't sound like gunfire, at all. In my car, down the block some? I had no chance to hear a thing.
Now we had a pow wow. On what the gear bags were for, what the shooting was over. A particularly shitty part of a particularly shitty little blighted town in the first place, it was just shit happens in the news. Shooting, drug house, everything sensational.
The only thing that made sense, was that the drug task force three member team? Had simply hit the place, scored everything for themselves, and left just enough money and drugs around to make it look good. What else were the gear bags for. More than one gear bag, means more stuff they intend to carry. Going in or out.
We listed possibilities. They could be working. They might go see about, whatever. They leave? Fireworks as soon as they leave. They could be selling drugs, confiscated drugs, on the side. A deal goes bad? It happens. They could be buying and selling. A customer could then make a move on them like anyone else, you get fireworks.
My mentor investigator made sure I didn't miss the last possibility left out until he now mentioned it.
"They could have gone there? To straight up snuff them and steal their shit."
I didn't know what to do, not exactly.
"Now who the hell do we call, about something like this."
He shrugged.
"We don't."
"What?"
He sighed. Lifted his hands, and dropped them, to show his lack of power over this.
"Experience? Teaches you. Without publicity, without backing, without everything out in the open? Doesn't do any good to snitch on dirty cops. I could tell you story after story, I could show you example after example. Inside the police department? Outside the police department. Everyone, and that's everyone? Just wants the dirty cop story to... go away. So it does."
"There's nothing you can do?"
"There is. I don't think either one of us wants to go there."
"What are you saying."
He rolled his eyes.
"I'm saying. I was in combat zones, when I was younger. It was my job. I see those pretty lights, up the street? I know its a firefight up there. What its about, who won who lost? Don't know at first. But, I know its fireworks going on. Point being. There were shots fired on that scene. Those three county undercover units? Walked in with plain clothes, walked out. They're comfortable? Doing fireworks. If you get in their way? They'll come visit you, the same time of the night. That? Is what I'm saying."
"Someone killed my wife. That just raises the stakes again, that's all. We just, what. Document it, move on? Professional investigators. We're looking for who killed my fiancee, not who killed some piece of shit drug dealer."
He just looked at me.
"You can do that?"
"Just teach me the rules of the game. I'll bitch about the rules, after I'm done playing."
He nodded. He glanced over to make sure our quiet conversation was still private from the lawyer puttering around in the kitchen.
"It should be obvious? There's only one way to deal with cops that dirty. There's only one thing they understand."
"Sake of argument..."
He nodded.
"No. Go ahead."
"Anonymous video. Note explaining who they are, date, time, address. I have the plate of their car there. It can't just end up on the DA's front porch, you knock and walk away? They answer the door, they find their gift."
"In a perfect world? It should work like that. Unfortunately, nine times out of ten. Everyone is looking to sweep any bad cops actions, right under the rug. They like to... minimize it, and give out light penalties to the cops. So they can later prove. See? Wasn't that big a deal. Not a lot of punishment."
"Just, sweep it right up."
"Sure. The cop's story, and that's assuming you get people to ask, which you probably won't... but if you did? They were there for... something legitimate. Someone else did that, not them. They're working. Out trying to buy drugs, to get a new bust."
I just blinked.
"That, does sound very... rational."
"Yeah. It does. You see, dirty cops. Are exactly like... remember those priests that molested those little kids? They just moved the priests around, to keep it as quiet as they could. That? Is how they treat dirty cops. Usually. Now, its true. Every once in a while? The system, gets forced to clean house a little. But, cops are part of that system. And, with a 90 percent chance it gets swept under the rug? Those three sweetie pies, that just killed a house full of strangers. And probably stole all the drugs, guns, money and anything else they felt like taking. 90 percent chance, they get barely a slap on the wrist, if not ignored and get to spin a story that flies. Now? You got them out. Scot free. They can obviously, quite literally, get away with murder. Who do you think gets murdered next."
I paused. My investigator friend, had a glib gallows sense of humor that I liked. I tried to give some laconic back.
"Could be anyone gets it next. Even? One of them three. Just saying. It could get... documented? And we move right along. I mean, hey. It happens."
He didn't even roll his eyes. Barely an eye roll, but I didn't know what else to call it. He lowered his voice even more.
"When you're looking for a traditional murder suspect? You need someone with means, motive, and opportunity. These three? Just have means right now. They go guns, it looks like. We're looking for a knife guy. Also. You're a new investigator, right? New guy always gets freaked out, about leaving monsters go, and you just wade around them. Investigating. If your fiancee was a drug using, drug dealing snitch in this county we're talking about, here? Yeah, she could get shot by this crew. Put her out here, in her bathtub? Knife instead of a gun? No. I don't see it. How about you. Can you stand back, and keep your spurs from jangling, is all I'm asking."
"Yeah. I can wait."
"All it takes."
The investigator grinned.
"I have to say this, though."
"What."
"What I will do, what I won't do. Not being rude? I'm not helping you hide the governor's body. We'll be clear on that one, up front. Okay?"
"Doesn't come as much of a shock to me. I wouldn't expect anyone else to..."
He interrupted me again. Politely, but he did.
"Those three? Strangers. Probably, in all likelihood? Greedy, murdering bastards. My guess. And I just ignore them, and move around them. Investigating. Said I wouldn't grab the governor's legs and help bury him. Didn't say I would care. Those three? I'd just as soon see them gone. But you? I think of you as a friend now. And someone did kill your fiancee. And we're looking into what if's, and... yeah. We're finding violent people. If something were to happen on your end, as a result of rubbing elbows with people like this, well. That, would be a shame, wouldn't it."
"You won't help, but you won't tell, either. And you understand, and you'll look the other way. As long as I'm on the up and up."
He grinned.
"Said I wouldn't grab the governor's legs, and help toss him into a shallow grave. Didn't say I wouldn't help you. There's direct action? There's also logistical support. Planning. Advice. If it comes to needing a black bag job done? I'll try to help if I can."
"Are you saying, that if you thought we had found our killer. Our means, motive, opportunity. Everything made sense. You'd look the other way, if we thought it was dicey going to court, and I decided to take the eye for an eye road on it."
He just looked at me.
"It was your fiancee. Of course."
Kind of made sense. As having been in the military and a military contractor before? He'd want to take revenge if someone killed his close friend or a family member. Let alone a spouse. I mean, spouse's are legendary. You kill a spouse? The other partner, literally isn't even responsible for their actions.
I could see his point, too. As long as he could claim he wasn't there, and didn't have blood spatter analysis guys going over his clothes... he was willing to help. I preferably would tell him beforehand, and he could prepare a grand alibi. Dinner and drinks on camera somewhere.
He was solid. What he really wanted? Me to dig my heels in. We're getting close to something, and maybe more as well. Stay professional. We'll see if we can sort through and separate the wheat from the chaff, and come up with our own suspect. As if on cue? He came in gently.
"A cop. Is hamstrung by... rules. They take, oaths. I'm not a cop. I'm an investigator. You'd be surprised how few rules there really are. About what I can and can't do, in the pursuit of answering a question that an employer puts to me. Which is all an investigator does. We got questions, can you get anything resembling an answer? Thanks. So. Its a trade off. I don't get the resources and manpower, that cops get. But? I get a free hand and no one but me and my employer knows I'm out there trying."
I shrugged.
"In one way? You're less powerful. But, in another way? You're actually more powerful."
He grinned.
"Potentially, more powerful. We have to play the game right."
I paused.
"Thanks."
He raised his wine glass to me. He grinned, and it seemed genuine.
"If it was my fiancee? No telling what I'd do. You deserve that much. Morality of it? Don't make me laugh. No. They played dirty, doing what they did. If you played dirty back? I got no problem with that part."
He's taught me to wonder out loud about things, bounce ideas around.
"Me, you. We're important. We need a problem removed. Why remove that problem, with a knife. When a gun would be easier. We have a video here, of three people doing things the easy way."
"Any number of reasons, there. Hard to speculate. For one thing, maybe an independent contractor took that one. He's a knife man. It could be as simple as that. Maybe? Knives are personal. Maybe, this is personal. Maybe? Its even some random serial killer struck here. Hey, it happens. Guns? Leave ballistics. Well, almost all guns. Knives leave no real ballistics, as long as you don't find the murder weapon. Which really does nothing, without the owner."
"Almost all guns?"
"Shotguns? No ballistics, on multiple shot loads. Some limited ballistics on slugs. But pellets, even big ones? Nothing. No. What you have to be careful of with guns? Not just ballistics, to trace projectiles back to guns. You leave a brass casing, and they're just getting tossed around everywhere, in a gunfight, mind you."
"Yeah..."
"One brass case? Your thumbprint is on that brass casing. The empty brass? Has microscopic tool marks, that fit like DNA to one gun. You can take two guns right off the line, next to each other. Each has different ballistics and tool marks. Shotgun? Great. Now you can toss one of them big plastic shotgun shells around, it can roll behind the couch. Its a firefight, things are tense. You can't be preoccupied, with empty casings going around. Everyone in the fight is making those, you know."
"And, shotguns have no ballistics. Just watch the empties."
"More than shotguns, but we're not talking preferred weapons here. There's a whole class of smooth bore weapons. Black powder. No ballistics on those, either. They range from handgun size? To rifles and even smooth bore cannons. None of them, would have ballistics."
"Accuracy would suck. Rifling? Makes accuracy."
"Usually, it does. There are very limited cases, where smooth bore weapons are more accurate. Its the exception, rather than the rule. But, don't forget. Up close and personal? Surprise and being aggressive, mean more than marksmanship. I'm honestly amazed, that more people don't try to kill people with black powder, to be honest."
"If its a good idea, why don't people think of it."
"Depends? On your crowd. Most people familiar with black powder? Probably wouldn't have anything criminal on their minds, typically. All those hunting rifles and handgun owners out there, hundreds of millions of them, and... how many murders by legally owned guns? Hardly any. And that, is who would own black powder and smooth bore guns."
"And it explains why a shotgun is such a preferred weapon."
"Well. That's mainly for just being devastating firepower, up close. Cops and criminals, both. I mean, a 12 gauge? That's just about a small cannon, up close like that."
We ended up back at the video. The flashes of light. He was studying it. A dozen times in a row.
"You see something?"
"Yes and no. I'm trying to square this? What I'm seeing them doing. With military or cop training. I'm having trouble doing that."
"How so."
"There's three of them. No backup. They all go in, they don't post a man outside to cover the entry door. Which becomes the exit door, if things go south. I realize, they like the extra third person inside, you don't know exactly how many assholes you're running into in there, but... it reeks of... amateur hour."
"Really?"
"Yeah. A smash and grab? That's a legit military objective. We want stuff. There it is. Go get the stuff. But, cops? No. No training on it. This? They're thinking like amateurs. No lookouts, probably not posting up on the entry exit. You said, no base call activity, like normal. Everything on this... weird channel they barely use."
I nodded.
"Yep. It was all... unusual."
We were sitting there, running out of things to ruminate over. He found a last one.
"Where did they go after the disco light show."
"I lose them after that. Also? They didn't come from home base, like normal outings. Mine came from home, assuming the other two came from home too. They, just meet up suddenly, in the wee hours. Figured they were just going to disperse? And do the opposite. Split up and all go back home. Nothing for me to accomplish there, with risk for nothing."
"A good call, I guess. I could have made that same call."
I wondered, though.
"Why?"
"I'm curious. If we believe the little old lady. That lady cop? Comes from that same little mafia family. Distant relative. How far away is this shit, from that building you keep tabs on."
I consulted my tablet for that errata. Two dots, a line.
"Not that far, not really. Why do you ask."
"Didn't you tell me, that you had filing videos by day and time?"
"I do. But, the crime, occurs somewhere else, entirely..."
He interrupted me gently.
"So? We're coming up with a conspiracy theory. Working theory now, we have a family. That we believe an old lady, is a little local mafia family. A distant member of that family? Is this same undercover country drug officer, on this strange middle of the night case. Wouldn't the family undercover cop, if she just scored money and drugs wholesale like that... wouldn't she report to the family clubhouse? She'd be one more of those lone strangers that prance all quiet in and out, that you got on those videos you said you have sorted by day and time. I mean, like she can sell drugs, and not attract attention. As a drug cop."
"I'll check."
"Remember. That property? Is the source of the out of place calls we can't pin down the reason for, to the governor. Governor, who has kilo of cocaine parties every so many years. Governor? Who has mysterious access to millions, at the 23rd hour of any campaign. Now, a relative of this same family property, where the calls came in and out of? You bring me the flashes of light."
I urged him to conclusion, even if premature.
"Saying then..."
"Saying. Conspiracy theory, is moving into the realm of conspiracy."
I tried to stay logical. Its all I have in my world now.
"I'm the governor. I'm getting a distant relative of a, campaign contribution friend? A job being a cop. A favor. My question? Does he know then and there, that he can maybe get cocaine by the kilo, or whatever else out of it? Or, does that come later. When he discovers it."
The investigator knew this one.
"I work around politicians. What they all are? Is practical. He would do the job favor, just to say thank you for the campaign money. Now. If he could get more out of it? Yeah. For gain? They milk it dry and move on."
I was learning. Cutting into my learning curve on all this.
"So. Politicians have a weakness. Predictability."
He thought about it.
"On certain things? You bet. I mean, make a nice big statue of any politician, and stick it in the Gobi desert? You'll get your photo opportunity, with that big pretty statue and that politician's smiling face. I mean, you just name a few miles of highway after them, the politician has to show up for that. Why? Their name's on the signs, for a few miles. There's cameras, dedicating it. There they are. Smiling. Pointing. Being politicians."
I mused.
"What is... being a politician."
He sighed.
"Our system? Is set up, and we have representatives we elect. Who vote on shit for us all. I don't think it was like this, originally? Not at all. It just turned into it. I mean, you read about those days. Its no secret. Here's a big one. They didn't have political parties. Not like we have them. And they didn't have campaign money, again not like we do today."
"I mean, it can't be how the thing started. Our government."
"Oh. Hell no. You can largely thank the civil war, for about half of what you call... modern red tape and government bullshit. They had a war over it all. And the other parts? World war one started it, and world war two finished it. After world war two? You see the modern... everything start up. That, was your tipping point."
"But? Politicians can be counted on. To have their greedy little hands out. And if I put a statue somewhere? They have to come stand next to it. On cue. Get their photograph taken, their camera video shot."
The investigator found another way to explain politicians to me.
"You asked, what's being a political creature like. Its, to me? Like this. You move around. In reality? Doing nothing but talking, trying to get people to sign pieces of paper you wish they would sign. You want to take credit? For anything and everything good comes out of anything you touch. You want to pass off blame on anything bad that's fallout, from again anything that you touch. Get credit, pass blame. Get credit? Assign blame. Always, you have to be moving. Up. If you stay in one job long enough? And its not the top job, you stagnate. You don't want to be a 25 year congressman. You want 5 years there, and you hop on over to the senate. You're senate? You start thinking governor. You're a governor? You start thinking... president."
"And their morality?"
"Politicians, its true. They famously, have no real morality. And why. They're trying to make the most people happy, with their actions. And that guarantees? That the minority, is going to squeal. On their best day, with the purest heart, motives, and intentions. Ain't everybody can be pleased. But the morality they hold? Its real, too. They have to get elected, and stay elected. Or they can't do anything for the voters, who believed in them and put them there. Whatever horse trades have to get made along the meandering trail? Necessary to get anything at all done. Are campaign contributions icky? Maybe. Can you get a good or a bad politician elected, without some? Never. Its all one big necessary evil. I think, that's how they view the world. The average one, not one that ordered a hit on a harmless woman in her bathtub, for Christ's sake."
I mused.
"And, that's a good one."
"Yeah. People say they sound like used car salesmen? They are. High end used car salesmen. They sell themselves, whatever idea they're being asked to push at the moment, doesn't matter. Its just the product. The used car at the moment. Next moment? Oh, different car. We say whatever we have to, to smooth this purchase over. Its no different, than a used car salesman."
When I went home, I did indeed check my folders after swapping out video files. First walk of Sogger? I checked on my fishing stuff on the workbench in my rented metal garage, and happened to switch out SD cards. I went through it, and armed with a date and time frame in mind? That made it easier to select files to copy and paste, into a temporary folder. If she had reported to the clubhouse? She should be in this pile of video clips that I had a small glut of.
My video and picture binoculars that night. That, had been no night vision. If you know which cameras have a reputation for good night time footage, and which are just an advertisement campaign? Well, I do. I had high resolution of people walking around the corner quietly, the same path Sogger and me take for his little pee walks. We veer off to where we do, the back end of the parking lot. Expected visitors, veer towards the one door once they're down in this largely private and somewhat fortified residential block.
Same style of dark clothes. Similar looking gear bag. Both had ponytails. Nothing any jury would buy as concrete, but... what were the odds. My tablet helped me play what if. A dot at the slaughter house. A dot here, at Sogger's pissing grounds. Estimated driving time? Hmm. She spends a half an hour with her crew of two more, then heads here? It fits the timeline with what could very well be her on video.
She stops here, before the light show down the street. She's here, directly after they get done and go.
I have her coming and going.