“Did you encourage it?” Katie asked.
Mr. Bailey shifted nervously in his seat. “Well, sorta. After the fact.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means that I told him after it was over that it was a good thing that he stuck up for his brother. I mean, I know fighting is wrong and all, but you can’t let the bullies rule the world, either. We had a talk about it.”
Katie glanced at the three children. They sat calmly, watching her. No one asked her for stickers, which surprised her. That was the thing most kids asked for right away.
“Okay, Mr. Bailey. I figured it might be something like that.”
Katie turned her attention to Tommy, who had been watching enraptured. “Tommy? Your daddy explained to you about fighting?”
Tommy nodded.
“You make sure you always listen to your Mom and Dad.”
All three children nodded.
When Katie turned her attention to Mr. Bailey, he smiled. “They’re good kids, really, officer. I work nights and my wife works days, so they don’t get as much time with us as I’d like, but they’re doing okay, you know?”
“Everything looks fine here,” Katie said, turning for the door. “Continuing to avoid Brian is the best policy. I’ll take care of Mrs. Masters.”
“Thank you.”
Katie walked back to the Master’s house. Evelyn Masters waited on the front porch, her arms crossed. “Did you arrest those little hellions?”
“No, Mrs. Masters, I didn’t. They tell a completely different story.”
“Well, they’re just lying.”
Katie shrugged off the assertion. “Either way, I can’t take any action without physical evidence or witnesses. And besides that, a child under the age of twelve is deemed incapable of committing a crime in the state of Washington.”
“You’re kidding.”
Katie shook her head. She’d left out the fact that a child between eight and twelve could be found capable of committing a crime if it could be shown that the child knew the difference between right and wrong. That little factoid would remain her secret. She didn’t want to give this woman anywhere to go.
“So you’re just going to do nothing?” Mrs. Masters asked, exasperated.
“No, ma’am. I’ve given those children explicit orders not to have any contact with Brian. Of course, this order has to be reciprocal to maintain objectivity.”
Mrs. Masters’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that mean?”
“It means that Brian can’t talk with them, either.”
“Why would he want to?”
“My point exactly. If that’s all, then I-”
“Is there going to be a report on this?”
Katie almost sighed but caught herself. There’s no reason to report this, she thought angrily. I shouldn’t even be here. And I certainly shouldn’t be tied up an additional thirty minutes later in my shift working on this go-nowhere report.
She forced herself to keep an even voice. “There is a report in the computer that I came here, ma’am. If there are any future problems, you can ask them to send the same officer. They’ll have my number.” And hopefully I won’t be working.
When Mrs. Masters didn’t answer right away, Katie allowed herself a small smile. “I’m sure things will be better now that we have this verbal no-contact order in place. Good luck.” She turned and walked back to her car.
It wasn’t until she got into the car, drove out of the neighborhood and cleared the call that she finally allowed herself a long sigh.
What a total busybody. I need something cold to drink.
2209 hours
Karl Winter sat at the table with Ridgeway and Will Reiser. They’d arrived late and found their usual table in the corner occupied by some newcomers. Johnny apologized, but the three men didn’t mind. As Ridgeway pointed out, “The beer tastes the same at any table.”
Winter looked at the date on his digital watch, which Mary had bought for him two Christmases ago. He’d protested, preferring a watch with a face and two hands but Mary told him it was time to enter the latter half of the twentieth century.
The date now read August 23rd, which put him at just over eight months to go. It also told him that Gio was an hour late and probably wasn’t coming. All three of them knew he’d been seeing the blonde he met in here, even though he kept uncharacteristically close-mouthed about the affair. Even more telling, Winter had never known Gio to miss a choir practice with the guys over a woman.
“Major Crimes put out a bulletin for patrol today,” Reiser reported. “Scarface has nineteen hits now. There’s another three or four more that are uncertain, but probably him. And he got money on almost all of them.”
Ridgeway didn’t seem impressed. “Major Crimes can pound sand for all I care.”
Winter didn’t join the conversation. Ridgeway had become increasingly irritable over the past few weeks. More and more people knew about his wife’s affair, thanks to her openness and the couple’s common friends. Ridgeway might have been unhappy about losing her, but he was even unhappier about everyone knowing his business.
“You know what Kahn said to me?” Ridgeway asked.
“What?”
“That IA poster boy said that if I would have shot that copycat instead of smacking him, then Major Crimes would’ve never got an admission from him that he wasn’t the real Scarface.” Ridgeway shook his head ruefully. “Without the admission, Hart could then claim to the press that all these new robberies were copycats. He’d be so happy that he’d let me take Poole’s place as day shift lap dog.”
“That’s cold,” Winter observed. He felt sorry for Ridgeway and Gio. Nabbing the copycat at Silver Lanes was still a good pinch. The guy committed a first-degree robbery and they arrested him. But just like no one calls the loser of the Super Bowl the second best team in the NFL, almost getting Scarface didn’t quite cut it among the other officers. Everything on the police department was high-speed, low drag. This was particularly true in the patrol division.
“You know that arrest went to Internal Affairs?” Ridgeway asked.
Winter raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Why?”
“Use of force. Per Hart the El-tee Prick himself.” Ridgeway took a hard slug of his beer and signaled to Johnny that he wanted a shot. Then he turned to face Winter and Reiser. “You know what their main beef is?”
Both men shook their heads. Discussing Internal Affairs investigations, ongoing or otherwise, was strictly forbidden. Rarely did anyone observe that rule.
Ridgeway ticked off the facts on his fingers. “That radio didn’t broadcast anything specific about a gun. That I saw no weapon before I cracked him. That the fake gun was under the seat. And that using my gun as a striking instrument is forbidden in department policy and procedures.” He smiled bitterly.
Winter shook his head in disgust.
“I can’t believe that,” Reiser said. “He just committed an armed robbery and he was reaching inside his jacket!”
Johnny set Ridgeway’s shot in front of him. Ridgeway threw it back and grimaced. “Imagine that. They said I could have justified shooting him but not pistol-whipping him. How ass-backward is that?”
No one spoke as Ridgeway continued.
“So let’s recap. My wife throws me over for a pansy fireman. Which everyone is now aware of because she is out there running her mouth. Then, instead of killing some dumb sonofabitch, I give him a headache. IA comes to talk to me and of course they have to send the Brass Bitch to do the interview. Four goddamn investigators in IA, one of them is a woman, and I get her. I just know she is going to recommend a finding of improper conduct.” Ridgeway’s voice rose as he spoke. “This shithead copycat robber will probably sue, in which case the department can step aside and lay all the responsibility on me. ‘Look, we gave him proper training. We never said he could hit somebody with his gun. He was operating outside the scope of his employment.’ So now Shithead Copycat gets to fight over my stuff with Alice and her little fireman. Now isn’t that all just absolutely, fucking wonderful!”