Good Cop Bad Cop (A James Harris Series Book 1) Read online

  Carl Emerson continued to edit the draft. He knew it was pissing Christi off but it was an important story and needed his attention. Plus, he wanted to piss her off a little. Finally he lay the paper down upon his desk and removing his reading glasses, he smiled at his young female reporter.

  “Hello, Christi,” he began warmly. “How are you?”

  “Well, I’m currently bored shitless,” she replied, making no attempt to hide her displeasure. “How are you, Carl?”

  “Yes!” Her boss exclaimed loudly, slapping his desk with the palm of his right hand. “That is exactly what I love about you! You are honest and passionate!”

  Despite her best efforts, Christi couldn’t keep from smiling. She shook her head in mock self-loathing as she grit her teeth and pressed her lips together trying to force the grin into a grimace.

  “Damn it, Carl. I’m busy.”

  “Yes, I know. Busier than usual actually.”

  “Look, I know I crossed the line-”

  “Who runs the Metro Desk, Christi?” Carl interrupted.

  She sighed loudly. “You do, sir.”

  “And who normally handles crime?”

  “Well, there are quite a few different people who-”

  “Okay, who normally assigns crime?” He asked, cutting her off.

  Christi remained silent. She bit her lip as she realized to speak would lead to further interruptions. Using her pointer finger she gestured to her boss.

  “Gold star!” Carl cried aloud, feigning pleasure. “And which department are you assigned to?

  “Human Interest,” Christi said with authority. “Where I have wallowed for many years.”

  “Excellent. Another gold star,” Carl said as he placed his hands behind his head, and sank back in his chair. “So you do possess this vital information. That’s fantastic. Somehow I thought that perhaps I hadn’t explained this to you well enough.”

  “Nope. My bad.”

  “Well that is refreshing to hear because I’ve been walking around this morning blaming myself for not being a better leader. Imagine my relief to find out that you do understand these dynamics. That you are simply not interested in following my instructions.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Really, now? Then what is it like?”

  “Carl, I have been following this guy’s career for a long time now. He intrigues me. I simply wanted to introduce myself.”

  Carl leaned forward and rested his elbows on his mahogany desk. He clasped his hands together. Fun and games were over.

  “Christi, I get it. Chasing down human interest stories may seem a tad mundane to you but believe it or not, a great many of our readers enjoy those articles. Enjoy your articles. You matter around here.”

  “Thank you, Carl. But you know how bored I’ve been for the past year. I want to do some investigative reporting. I want to go after Harris. I think I’ve earned it.”

  “Ferguson and Stanwyk handle the precincts and Ferguson handles Harris. He’s covered most of his busts including his murder of that child raping scumbag. Oops, sorry. Alleged murder of that child raping scumbag.”

  “Yes, he handled that story and he did a fine job gathering quotes from sources. Outside sources. But he has never gotten anything from the man himself! I can take it to the next level!”

  “Really? What makes you say think that Harris will give you anything?”

  “Because Harris is a renaissance man. He is a knight in shining armor in a city full of parasitic leeches. Harris will afford a damsel much more leeway than he would a man.”

  “Is that a fact? You really think you have this guy’s number, huh?”

  “He’s just like my father, Carl,” she said. “He’s a warrior and he is chivalrous.”

  “Chivalrous?”

  “Yes. And that’s all the edge I need.”

  Carl placed his hands behind his head again and interlocked his fingers. He leaned back in his chair and smiled. “Just like your father?”

  “Oh, don’t even go there,” Christi spoke with exasperation.

  “I didn’t.”

  Christi turned red and looked down to the floor, an involuntary reaction which she corrected immediately by fixing her boss with an icy stare.

  Carl chuckled softly, genuinely amused. His chuckle grew until he was laughing softly.

  “Carl,” Christi asked with a scowl. “What’s the papers official policy on telling your boss to go to hell?”

  Carl threw up a hand and did his best to compose himself. He leaned forward.

  “Okay, hotshot. Here’s your break. You get me something on Harris and he’s all yours. Ferguson won’t like it but fortunately for me, I don’t give a shit.”

  “Oh my God! Really?” Christi shrieked as she jumped out of her chair. “Are you serious?!”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought I was in trouble!?”

  “Well, you are….kind of. But I like your moxy. Hopefully you will use it constructively.”

  “I will!” She almost yelled, barely able to restrain herself.

  “Don’t make me regret it.”

  “I won’t, I promise you.” Christi walked quickly to the door. She bounced as she walked.

  “Christi,” Carl stopped her. His voice had lost all humor.

  She turned to face him.

  “Be very careful.”

  Christi understood the many implications in his warning and nodded her head.

  “No worries, Carl. I’ve got this.” Her voice brimmed with excitement.

  She turned on her heel and sporting a wide grin, bolted from his office.

  Good Cop Bad Cop

  22

  Commissioner Gerland paced behind his desk. He grit his teeth and did his best to compose himself. He loathed what he had to do today as it was based on personal needs, not the best interest of the force. He grabbed a cigarette out of the pack that lay on his desk and lit it with a Zippo lighter bearing the U.S. Air Force’s logo. This completed, he resumed his pacing. There was a knock on the door.

  “Enter,” He barked gruffly.

  Harris opened the door and strode into the man’s office.

  “You wanted to see me, Commissioner?”

  “You’re goddamn right I want to see you,” Gerland faced him and glowered.

  Harris returning the cold stare with a look of calm indifference. He knew what was coming.

  “You’re Irish, aren’t you?” The Commissioner queried.

  “I am.”

  “Yeah, well that figures. The bloody luck of the Irish.”

  Harris said nothing.

  “Well listen to me, you arrogant, Irish, son of a bitch, because I’ve got something to say to you,” Gerland placed both hands on his desk, palms down, and leaned forward. “You may think you’ve gotten your shield back but I don’t give a damn what the D.A. says, it is a very temporary situation.”

  Harris allowed a trace of a smile to form on his lips.

  “Yeah, you think you’re hot shit because Blumquist pulled some strings? All you are is a thug with a badge and that’s the only reason she came to you. Because she knows you’ll take the law into your own hands to find her daughter.”

  “Is that a fact?” Harris asked, breaking his silence.

  “Yeah, that’s exactly a fact,” Gerland spit. “She’s willing to go to any lengths to get her little girl back and that is the only reason you’re not collecting unemployment right now.”

  Harris had known in advance that he’d have to put up with a little abuse from the Commissioner as well as Deputy Commissioner Dinkins. He also knew that there was a very real possibility that he’d be thrown to the wolves again no matter what happened with this case. This realization freed him up to respond in any way he saw fit. They can only fire me once, he reasoned.

  “Just what the hell is your problem with me, Commissioner? I’ve got a better arrest and conviction record than any cop on the force.”

  “You have no respect for the law!”
The man yelled so loudly that the people outside his door jumped. “You are a goddamn vigilante and while that may work towards a better arrest record, it is the exact opposite of what we are supposed to represent!”

  “And what exactly are we supposed to represent?”

  “We are supposed to be the examples. We are supposed to uphold and enforce the laws. All laws! You pick and choose which ones you want to obey and you do it with a smug arrogance. You’re just another criminal as far as I’m concerned.”

  “I get the job done. And in case I’m misinformed, I’ve never been tried, or convicted, of any crime. So all you have is conjecture and rumors.”

  “Rumors? Don’t make me laugh. We all know what you did. Don’t try and pretend you didn’t blow that perp away in cold blood. Just because your partner wouldn’t roll over on you doesn’t mean you didn’t do it. Don’t you dare talk to me like I don’t know the time of day!”

  “You goddamn bureaucrats are amazing,” Harris spoke, a steel edge to his voice. His smile was gone and he addressed the Commissioner one man to another. “A ten year old boy would have died if my partner and I hadn’t found him. And you’re worried about what happened to the scumbag who had him? Unbelievable!”

  “There is a thing called due process! And you wouldn’t even have found him if you hadn’t strong armed another man to get the information!”

  “Jesus Christ! Even if that were true, it saved a young boy’s life! Not to mention all the young boys that would have followed!”

  “Oh it’s true, all right. And the reason we couldn’t prove that offense is because somehow the witness developed amnesia. The truth is he was scared to death of what you would do to him if he talked!”

  “Prove it!”

  Commissioner Gerland stood and glared at Harris. His anger seemed to abate and he nodded his head slowly. “Well there it is. You’re just damn good at covering your tracks, aren’t you? But it doesn’t change the fact that you killed a man in cold blood.”

  Harris locked eyes with his boss and smiled.

  “Yeah,” Gerland continued. “It’s all a joke to you, isn’t it? There’s no way in hell that scrawny little maggot came at you with a knife. I know it. Deputy Commissioner Dinkins knows it. Hell, the whole damn force knows it. But you’re right. We couldn’t prove it.”

  “Let’s pretend for one second that you’re right. Let’s pretend that I wasted this guy without just cause. Does it really keep you up at night that a child rapist and murderer is removed from society? That dirt bag was suspected of being involved in no less than three other missing child cases. But we couldn’t prove that either, could we?”

  “That is no justification for being lawless. This is not a war zone.”

  “That might be the most naïve statement I’ve ever heard a Police Commissioner make.”

  “You watch how you talk to me,” Gerland hissed.

  “Why? I’m already history after this case no matter how it ends, right? You said it yourself. You’re speaking your mind and I’m speaking mine. I think it’s good to finally air this out, don’t you?”

  “The only thing that’s getting aired out is you. So you go do what you do best. Go break some bones. Go shoot a few suspects. Go find the D.A.’s girl by any means necessary. It won’t do a thing to help you after all this is over. I promise you that.”

  “We’ll see,” Harris replied.

  “Yeah, we will see. There’s no room on the force for a man like you. I’ve got good cops who bust their asses’ day in and day out and who follow the rules. You’re not fit to be in the same room as them.”

  “You mean guys like Mullin and Danforth?”

  “You’re damn right. Those are two of the best men on the force.”

  “Maybe,” Harris said as he nodded in mock agreement. “But if they’re such great cops, why is the D.A.’s daughter still missing, and probably getting raped face down on a table, as we speak?”

  “Why you arrogant bastard!” The Commissioner growled between clenched teeth.

  “Relax, Matthew. You can crucify me after this is over. Right now I’ve got to get to work. Emily Blumquist better not have to rely on your two best men to save her life.”

  “You go to hell!”

  Harris turned and flung open the door. As he left the office he couldn’t help but smile as he walked down the hall and heard the Commissioner screaming into his phone, ordering his secretary to locate Danforth and Mullin.

  Good Cop Bad Cop

  23

  Sheldon Blumquist stood on the back deck of his sprawling Oyster Bay mansion. He surveyed the perfectly manicured yard. The lawn was as flat and even as a pool table and the hedges surrounding the side walls of the complex did not have one leaf out of place. There was an Olympic sized swimming pool and beyond that, Long Island Sound glistened in the fading twilight, millions of dancing lights catching and reflecting the slightest ripple.

  Sheldon left the deck and walked towards his boathouse. He began to chew on a fingernail and caught himself. A vulgar habit, he thought. One left over from an insecure youth. He was barefoot and felt the soft, cold grass under his feet. He glanced back over his shoulder towards the house and reached for the cell phone in his front pocket. Pushing a sequence of numbers, he raised the phone to his ear. He didn’t have to wait long for a response.

  “It’s me.” he spoke and then listened intently to the party on the other end of the call.

  Reaching the water’s edge, Sheldon walked out towards the end of the dock. He stopped at the railing and stared across the Sound.

  “I know,” he said. “But I don’t think it’s possible.”

  Sheldon looked back again at the house as he paid attention to the person on the other end of the line. He held the phone to his ear with his right hand and began chewing the fingernails of his left hand. He did not try to stop himself this time.

  “Look, there’s simply no way it’s him. I would know.”

  Silence as he listened.

  “I just would. I’m telling you it’s not possible.”

  He listened again.

  “How the hell am I going to do that? You know damn well I can’t do that.”

  Sheldon looked from side to side. His property line went a good way in each direction. The blinking red light of a channel marker glowed in the distance.

  “I am right.”

  Silence as he listened.

  “Well then God help us.”

  He began to walk back towards the house.

  “You just keep making inquiries on your end. Somebody must know where he is.”

  Sheldon walked briskly now, the air was cold and he wished he’d worn shoes. He approached the deck behind his home.

  “Keep me informed of any developments. No matter how small.”

  “Yes, goodbye.”

  He pressed a button and slid his phone back in his front pocket. Glancing nervously behind him to scan the yard again, Sheldon opened the back door and slipped into the house.

  Good Cop Bad Cop

  24

  Harris pressed the key fob and his car chirped. He opened the door and slid into the driver seat. The witness he had just interviewed said the same thing the other two had.

  “It happened too fast.”

  “It was just a plain, white van.”

  “One second they were there and the next they were gone.”

  He’d known it would be a waste of time before going to see the people listed in the initial police report but it was all part of the job. He was hoping that at least one of them could have given him something useful. Any description beyond a short, dark haired woman.

  Harris eased onto West Main Street. He made a quick left onto Lexington Avenue and then a quick right onto Mill River Road towards 25A. This would take him to the Cross Island Parkway and across the Throgs Neck into the Bronx.

  He wasn’t looking forward to going home. Danny was at his in-laws and Bonnie was planning a quiet dinner for them. Ordinarily this would be so
mething he looked forward to but he knew that his wife had an ulterior motive. Ever since he’d been suspended and subsequently reinstated to work on this case, she had been urging him to quit the force for good and moving to Reading, Pennsylvania to take over her brother’s hardware store. Her brother had been diagnosed with leukemia 6 months prior and the prognosis wasn’t good. He was now spending more time as an in-patient then he was an out-patient. Rather than sell the business, they had decided that it should be kept in the family. This was where he and Bonnie came in.

  Harris slammed his fist into the steering wheel and his horn blared loudly at a motorist who cut him off as he merged onto the C.I.P. The offending driver extended his arm through the open window of his Lexus and shot him the bird. Harris responded by flipping a switch on his console. His interior police lights lit up blue and white and his siren barked loudly. The Lexus immediately eased into the slow lane and as Harris pulled alongside him, the man inside offered a weak wave of apology. Harris glared at him and then sped away.

  Sometimes being a cop had its perks, he thought to himself. But there was no way of hitting Bonnie with the blue lights and making her kowtow to his wishes. She was reaching a point in the relationship that frightened him. He could see it happening and there was nothing he could do to stop it other than quitting the force to go run a damn hardware store in the boonies.

  Just shoot me, he thought to himself. I’d rather check out than live the rest of my life like that. The truth is, being a cop was his identity, it was who he was. Bonnie always told him he was a cop first and a husband and father second. She’s right, he admitted to himself, I’d rather be in the morgue than stuck in some pointless existence selling hammers and nails to the local town folk.