When they originally showed up, I assumed it had something to do with cooperation between jurisdictions. Keeping each other in the loop, professional courtesy, that sort of thing. While that was probably true to a large extent, they were now quite obviously providing security for the team that was legally ransacking my home.
“Mister Gant, I’m sorry but the books clearly fit the description of items listed on the warrant.”
“Listen to what I’m telling you,” I stated once again then exaggerated the enunciation of my following sentences as if speaking to a small child. “They. Do. Not. Be-long. To. Her… They. Be-long. To. Me.”
“I’m sorry.” He ignored my patronizing comment and splayed out his hands in surrender to some higher power as he made the apology one more time. “But, we have to take them.”
“No. You don’t.”
His tone became harder and he shot back, “Look, the warrant has been served, and it’s my job to execute it per the instructions of the court. The books fit the description on the list, so the books go with us. It’s that simple and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Sure there is. You can stop spouting this Nuremberg nonsense about following orders, engage your brain, and give them back to me.”
“Okay, now listen to what I’m telling you,” he instructed. “Because this is the last time I’m going to say it. You aren’t getting the books back. As of this moment they are evidence. Now, up till a few minutes ago, you’ve been cooperative and we definitely appreciate that. But, if you’re going to start interfering, I’m going to have to ask you to step outside.”
I shook my head and stared back at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Bullshit. I have the right to be present during the search.”
“As long as you aren’t obstructing the search, that’s true. But, you’re getting very close to crossing that line.”
“So, just because you and your crew can’t use a little common sense, you’re going to kick me out of my own house?”
“If that’s what it takes.”
“Gods! What is it with you people?! Does the fact that I just bought those books have no bearing on this at all?”
“Look, if that’s true, and you have receipts to prove it, you can take it up with Major Case and the prosecutor.”
“Maybe so, but right now I’m taking it up with YOU,” I returned.
In reality, I’m sure he was correct. If I could provide receipts, which I could, at the very least Jackie should be able to negate the effect of the books as evidence. In fact, she could probably get them thrown out altogether before it even went that far. But, I wasn’t willing to take that chance because with the situation as it was, our attorney’s ability to accomplish that feat was by no means guaranteed.
Ominous shadows were lurking somewhere in the background of all this. Someone, or maybe even something, was trying very hard to stack the deck against Felicity. That much had become painfully apparent over the past hour. I certainly wasn’t about to let anything I was holding in my own hand be used in that process if I could help it.
“That’s it, I’m done with this,” the crime scene technician replied with a wave of his hand before looking over to the Briarwood cops. “I have a job to do, and this man is preventing me from doing it. Would you guys like to take it from here?”
“Sir,” one of the uniformed officers spoke up. “Why don’t you step outside with me for a bit?”
The tech had turned back to face me, and I was now holding him locked in a stare down, so I snapped an acrid reply without breaking my gaze. “Why? Because I don’t want to.”
“Sir, that wasn’t a question. It was a strong suggestion.”
“Your suggestion is noted.”
“Sir, it was a very strong suggestion. Under the circumstances I can make it an order.”
“What? You people aren’t happy with just arresting my wife? Now you’re arresting me too?”
The officer replied, “No sir, you aren’t being arrested.” After a short pause he added, “Not yet, but if you keep going the way you are, it’s a very good possibility. So, why don’t you do like I suggested, and just step outside with me where you can cool off for a few minutes?”
Before I could manage to formulate another snide remark, I flashed on the recent conversation with Jackie. The words “don’t do anything stupid” rang through my head at full volume and made me take pause. As much as I wanted to lash out at all of them, to just go stark raving berserk, the fact remained that getting myself locked up wasn’t going to help Felicity at all.
I dwelled on the realization for a moment then huffed out a resigned sigh and ended my unblinking glare at the technician. With an agitated shake of my head, I looked over at the officer and grumbled, “Yeah, fine.”
“Good call,” he replied.
He was standing close enough to me that when he’d spoken I’d easily been able to pick up the odor of burnt tobacco on his breath.
“You smoke, right?” I asked.
“Yeah, why, I got bad breath?”
“No, because I need a cigarette.”
I hadn’t really given much thought to the comment, any at all, really. It just came tumbling out of my mouth in place of something far more caustic. Still, all I could manage to do was give an internal shrug when it dawned on me what I had just said.
As we headed for the door, the officer pulled a pack from his pocket then tapped it across his index finger before holding it out toward me.
Whether it was out of reflex or because I truly did feel like I needed one, I don’t know, but I reached over and pulled the proffered smoke from the pack and stuck it between my lips.
“You want to grab a jacket?” the officer asked.
A sarcastic quip escaped before I could subdue it. “Why would I want to do that? I’m supposed to be cooling off, right?”
“Yeah. Right,” he returned.
Without another word I pushed the door open and headed through with him on my heels. As I’d suspected, neighbors had positioned themselves to watch the show. Since it was still early enough in the afternoon, there weren’t as many peeking from behind curtains or lethargically walking dogs as there could have been. But, it was a good bet that phones were buzzing with news of yet another incident involving the police at “the Witch’s house”. I’m sure my ears should have been burning.
It was only a few moments later that a van emblazoned with the logo of a local television station pulled up and parked on the opposite side of the street. As usual, I wasn’t going to be immune from the jaundiced spotlight of the media either.
“Damn TV people,” the cop muttered and then offered, “We can go out back or sit in the car if you want.”
“That’s okay,” I replied with a slight shake of my head. “It’s not the first time they’ve pointed their cameras at me, and I doubt it will be the last.”
“Guess the neighbors are having a field day,” he grunted.
“Yeah, probably,” I agreed. “You’d think they’d be used to it by now.”
I didn’t expand on the history of flashing lights and news vans that had been positioned in front of my house over the years, and he didn’t ask. He probably already knew all about it anyway. In fact, it was entirely possible he had been one of the many cops to have graced my doorstep in the past. After a quiet moment I pulled the cigarette from my mouth and inspected the still pristine paper and tobacco on its end.
“Got a light?” I asked before tucking it back between my lips.
He dug in his pocket then withdrew a disposable lighter and handed it to me. I gave it a quick flick with my thumb and touched the flame to the business end of the smoke then handed the stubby metal and plastic device back to him.
As we stood on the porch, and I took the first drag on the nicotine and menthol laden tobacco, I simply yielded to the idea that I was once again re-adding an old vice to my list.