Mike sat calmly in the police station interrogation room.
“Am I under arrest?” he asked as Detective Baker circled and sat down on the other end of the table with a big stack of papers and a smaller file in his other hand.
“You’re being detained for questioning.” He replied, opening the smaller folder. “Tragic shit, wife and kid killed, guy responsible got let out of prison…that could drive any man insane. Even a good one.”
“Those are facts, not questions. I can’t answer a fact, only agree. But God works in mysterious ways and the killer may have escaped the justice system, but not god’s judgment. He’ll get what he deserves.” Mike smiled, his graying mustache curled up like a playful kid.
“Says here he already did. Drug deal gone wrong. Guy got killed.” Damien sighed.
“Really? Well, that’s sort of poetic. Back to a life of crime that got him killed, after he got a second chance to be something different than what he was? You know, some animals never change. What was the question, officer?”
“Where were you at 2:45AM this morning?” Damien asked bluntly.
“You know where I was, I was out for a walk, by myself. You picked me up. Why did you pick me up?”
“Recognized you. I had an anonymous tip that said you may have been involved in a recent missing person’s case. Joseph Richards, Janitor that went missing.”
“Was there any evidence or just your word that someone gave their word?”
“No direct evidence of a crime, but your van was seen parked at a school the day the janitor went missing. That, plus my anonymous tip added up to suspicion, so when I responded to an Officer Down call and saw your ass 4 blocks away from the shooting, you went from curiosity to suspect. You just go for walks in town at 3am alone, with a loaded gun?” he asked sarcastically.
“Yea, sometimes. The towns are where the people are, people need help. People like homeless in need of food in the cold, or people in trailer parks near schools who can’t afford plumbing repair. People who just don’t have help, and need a breath of fresh air from a handyman who does favors. I need fresh air and exercise sometimes too. There’s no law saying a man can’t go for a night walk. You’d be crazy to walk at night in the bad areas of town unarmed. You know, being unarmed and helpless is how people get killed… like my family. I do have a permit for that gun, it’s registered.”
“You know the cop shot in the shooting last night?” Damien asked, showing a picture.
“Nope, I knew there was gunfire, I was close by, like you said when you picked me up. And you really wonder why I carry a gun? I could have been in that shooting and needed it to legally defend myself from some mugger or criminal. Guy who kills a cop wouldn’t hesitate to kill a witness...or a threat. I’m glad I was further down.”
“You mind if we check out the gun a little while? They wanted to run it through forensics.”
“Well, I don’t mean to spoil the ending, but my fingerprints are probably all over my own gun. If I’m being accused of getting my own DNA on my own gun, then I confess, there will be some evidence. At least I hope so, or your forensics team needs to check again. I bet there are prints on the ammo, the magazine, the trigger. If you go to a local shooting range, you may even find that I’ve…fired the weapon before.” He said, gasping a little playfully. “What’s that?”
“Checking for gunpowder residue on your hands. Shouldn’t be any on your gloves or hands if you didn’t fire it recently.”
“Swab away, Officer. I don’t clean my gun as often as I probably should, but my hands are clean. I should also mention that the 45ACP is one of the most common full-sized handgun calibers used for personal protection. If a crime was committed with one, that is barely grounds for questioning, but not evidence of a crime.” He said, handing him a fresh pair of gloves.
“Actually, the report I just got says the gun used was a 40 caliber. So I guess this HK would be your backup gun, and the one you shot is probably in a ditch somewhere.”
“I seem to be confused, or maybe you are, I’m not sure. You have me in for questioning because someone fired a gun you don’t have, into a cop, that’s not the caliber of the gun I legally have on me, that wasn’t used to commit a crime. Where do I come into play here, sir?” he asked.
“Look we both know you carry a decoy gun because not carrying anything would look more suspicious than being armed, and you tossed the murder weapon.”
“Oh wow, a murder. That’s pretty serious. I didn’t know the officer died. Was he not wearing his vest?”
“Off duty, shot in the head.”
“Now I’m really glad I carried my gun with me that night, the 45 that wasn’t used in any crimes that’s being processed. I will be getting that back, that’s a very expensive gun and I don’t have any other handguns for protection. Maybe I should get a backup gun, in case the police take mine and never give it back. Things get misfiled, Officer Baker. Don't they? Then I’d be unarmed, and apparently this area is dangerous as hell.” He said, taking a fake sigh as another officer entered the room and handed Damien Baker the forensic papers.
“Are you sure?” he asked the other officer.
“Yea I’m sure. I ran it myself. Riflings match a KelTec SUB-2000 carbine. They’re looking in every alley for one right now. You’ll wanna see the bullet type later.”
“That’s great news.” Mike nodded as the forensic guy gave him a look. “Detective Baker said a 40 caliber, so I assumed a handgun. Those would be easy to toss and never find. A rifle should be hard to miss, good luck finding the gun.”
“You familiar with that specific gun?” Damien asked him. “Familiar enough to know how big they are and hard to hide?”
“My grandfather was a gunsmith, I have a local range club membership, I am familiar with what Carbine means, so unless they changed that terminology I assume by definition a pistol caliber rifle would be rifle sized and hard to miss.”
“Actually,” sighed the other cop. “These kind fold up.” He nodded, leaving the room.
“Oh well damn the bad luck, Detective Baker, you have consent to check my back pockets for the weapon. I have very large pockets in these slacks, it’s always best to check everywhere.” He said coldly.
“You are one cocky son of a bitch.”
“No, I’m just well versed in the law, after it failed to protect my family, and properly put away the man who killed them. I’m also aware of my constitutional rights and I firmly believe that if you’re not guilty, there’s very little reason to be worried of a crime. Statistically being convicted of a crime without proper evidence and proof is insanely low, and the few rare cases are usually from police planting evidence or cheating their own system for conviction.” Mike said, staring him dead in the eyes with an almost accusing look. “Hence the phone recorded ride.”
“Mister Finn, would you like a lawyer present?”
“Doesn’t seem necessary unless you intend to use shady tactics to get a false-confession. Do you? Do you Detective intend to get a force confession? Can I trust you to abide by the law you swore to protect?” he asked. Damien looked worried, more worried than Mike by a wide margin. “It would look very suspicious if you turned off the camera right now and then claimed to get a confession while it was off, so it would be very unfortunate if one of us said anything incriminating. Wouldn’t it? Theoretically anything said while the camera was off would be inadmissible in court, right?” he asked.
“Strange statement. You got something to confess about a murder, preacher…off the records?” Baker asked.
“Oh I, don’t know anything about any murder, let alone the one recently, But if I am about to be intimidatingly interrogated I may have an incriminating statement about something far less illegal but very embarrassing. If I had witnesses confirming my location but they were people I don’t want to be associated with, could I speak off the record to prove my innocence of this specific crime?” he asked, looking embarrassed.
“Sure…” Detective baker said, pretending to turn off the camera.
“I may have been with a short-haired brunette prostitute, at a park bench…outside of a gas station, discussing some acts that might be illegal if I were to give into temptation.” He said softly. Detective Baker reached back and turned off the camera for real this time. “Now THAT got your attention, didn’t it Damien?”
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“What the fuck did you just say?” he asked.
“I…confessed to temptation, considering soliciting illegal sex from a prostitute. That’s what the camera up there will show before you turned it off. Is that illegal, just sitting and talking with a prostitute, alone, outside a gas station? You just recorded a preacher with a dead wife, pleading guilty of talking to a hooker and considering something sinful. Now you just turned off the camera, and if I were to get roughed up, you might lose your job. So I’m safe, right? Detective Baker, have you ever had temptation to do something stupid, alone with a hooker outside a gas station? Would there be cameras at that gas station showing you were there... doing something stupid? If someone were to suggest that you were doing something illegal with said lady of the night, instead of arresting her for it, you might be under investigation of your own. It seems like there’s more evidence of your shady behavior than any proof I have had any. And if you didn’t turn off the camera by now you’re the dumbest crooked cop in the department. I assume you’ll just say you turned off the camera to scare me, got in my face and intimidated me and I just hunkered in fear and gave no information except maybe a confession of guilty carnal thoughts.” Mike explained.
“I might say that. What is your point here, preacher, just taunting? They’re gonna get suspicious if the camera stays off too long.”
“I want you to feel powerless and conflicted. By law you just turned off a camera to get a confession from a damn former preacher with a carry license and there is no evidence I did anything wrong, while you on the other hand have been committing multiple crimes to set me up... That I have on tape. You don’t know for a fact I did anything wrong, you just have theories, so that I believe is grounds for termination under harassment and paranoid stalking, not to mention if I had video of you with a hooker, and she wasn’t an informant on police station files. So you should obey the law and turn yourself in for harassing an old man and conspiring with criminals to set him up without evidence of any crime. Dirty cop trail, a mile long. Your own investigation. Now of course you could just bend the rules and let yourself and your sins go, and that would make you a rule breaker who does what he wants if he believes he’s justified, regardless of the laws. Nobody is clean, Detective. We’re all covered in sin and choosing what to ignore and what laws to follow that suit us best. Now I heard from an anonymous source at an AA meeting, don’t remember the guys name actually, but he said you were on the trail of the Lakeshot Shooter. THAT is exciting. I sure hope you find him and bring him in here for questions. Anyone capable of making that shot would have no problem taking out any of us, at any point.”
“What do you know about that?” Asked Damien, looking sweaty.
“I know what the papers said, and some anonymous drunk mentioned you may be on the case. The papers said the guy that the shooter killed, had murdered a young girl. Wild to think someone armed with skills and weapons that can take someone out over a mile away on their porch while they thought they were safe could still be out there, read to kill over... one... girl. He sounds scary. Unstable. Are you worried you may actually find the guy, somewhere where you think you’re safe?” Mike said. “Somewhere confined.”
“Camera is off, Preacher Mike. You can say what you wanna say.”
“I’m saying if I were you, I would not want to get shot over a girl, and I would never feel safe knowing someone over a mile away could just…take my head off, and I’d never hear the shot, nobody would ever find them, and my loved ones would have to bury my body with a closed casket…in the open. Funeral with a lot of empty space in every direction. These crazy shooters, you know how they are, political assassinations, random statement makers, psychos in a bell tower. Once they shoot one round and shit hits the fan, they sometimes start just unloading on everyone. Lotta people die over something stupid, pointless and wasteful. Like stalking some girl and then thinking they were safe on their lakefront porch. All I’m saying, Detective Baker…is that there are some really scary people out there who don’t like their loved ones fucked with. Who would kill everyone you know for fucking with them” he said, smiling and grabbing his own shirt collar, slamming his own face on the table with a harsh thud and breaking his glasses. “Crazy fuckers.” He said doing it again.
“The fuck is wrong with you?” Detective baker asked, standing up and backing away.
“I swear…I didn’t do anything, officer, please don’t hurt me!” He said loudly, welling up in tears and a demonic grin, bloody and enjoying it. The door opened, and the chief stood looking confused and alarmed.
“It’s okay, I’m okay.” Mike insisted, hunkering down. “I just wanna go home. I don’t want to press charges, it was an accident. Can I please just go home?” he asked as Detective Baker breathed heavily and silently.
“Mister Finn, you are free to go, and I promise there will not be any further questions, and nobody will bother you again.” Said the chief as he shook his hand and thanked him with a nod and turned down the hall to go get his Wallet and gun back.
“Detective, you wanna tell me what the FUCK just happened?” he softly barked.
“Like he said, just an accident. He slipped and hit his face on the table.” he lied nervously.
“While the cameras were off?” he asked. "You pick up some plumber 4 blocks away from the crime, and he calls US saying you were acting hostile. Now he’s in here cooperating, no lawyer, and you turn the cameras off when he mentions something about you and hookers. Damien, that’s not my business, but that camera, stays on.”
“I must have unplugged it by mistake, I was trying to get a confession by telling him the camera was off. He just confessed to missing his wife, got himself a hooker and couldn’t go through with it. He’s not the guy.” Baker sighed.
“No shit, he’s not the guy, Baker. His gun is registered and licensed, doesn’t match the murder weapon, which we can’t find. The guy is a plumber who used to be a priest, for fuck’s sake. He has 2 guns, the one we just processed and a damn Ruger 22 rifle, also legally bought years ago. Did you just assault a retired priest?”
“I said it was an accident. He just fell.”
“Baker, you’re off the damn case, and on a 3-day suspension. You’re lucky he’s too scared to take this to court. Hope he feels that way tomorrow too.”
“Sir, it’s not…” he pondered to himself.
“I don’t wanna know any more details, I don’t wanna have to lie if you do something stupid, just to cover my own ass, because I won’t cover yours. You’ve been ranting theories about this insane hitman organization, You’ve harassed suspects over this Lakeshot Shooter case, and now you assaulted an old preacher carrying a personal defense gun. Didn’t even have gunpowder on his hands. He hasn’t shot anything in days or weeks. Baker, you are on thin ice, and the next time you decide to turn off a camera for a confession, you better make sure nobody ends up bloody, especially some innocent handyman. There’s bending the rules for a real confession, and then there’s that shit. Learn the line you don’t cross, because wherever the blurry line is, you went way over it and if he presses charges, we never had this conversation and I saw exactly what I just saw, in court. You’re not God, Damien, you’re a cop. We have rules, we bend them sometimes to make something legit stick, but you just broke something, and it may have been a retired preacher’s nose.”
The chief followed Mike to the rear entrance with his gun in a plastic bag, and discreetly lead him to one of the unmarked cop cars.
“Sir I cannot apologize enough, or thank you for not pressing charges.”
“It’s fine. I don’t want the whole department in trouble and tied up in paperwork. You people have real crime to fight, and an officer murdered, apparently, right down the road. You need to be working on that, not minor assault charges.” Mike said, patting his nose with a cloth.
“Detective baker has been under a lot of stress lately, but that’s no excuse, and he will be discreetly but severely reprimanded, I assure you.”
“I just…I don’t feel safe around him. I think he was following me the other day during a plumbing emergency, followed me to my home. Then he pulled me over aggressively and I cooperated. He acted like just confirming his badge was a crime. I asked him to turn off the camera because I wanted to clear myself with my alibi, but…I didn’t want it on record, the person I was with. I don’t know her name. My alibi was a…woman of…”
“Hooker,” he said. “Look, you’re a grown man who got lonely, and tempted. It happens to all of us. I don’t even care if you did anything consensual for cash, don’t tell me and I won’t know, and assume you didn’t. You don’t seem the type of guy to hang out with hookers on a normal basis. What happened was a mistake. Is there anything we can do to make this…off the records?”
“Yea, but I will be talking to my lawyer about a restraining order. There is something off about that guy. He scares me, but I trust your department can make sure he doesn’t harass me or confront me. I am legally within my right to defend myself with force, even if he is a cop, and my lawyer will discuss that with me in more detail, so I have something on file in case it happens again. My wife and kid died in a break-in. I don’t trust anyone, especially following me home at night. I also don’t want problems. Sometimes one bad person just…snaps out of nowhere and makes everyone else look bad. You responded very quickly when he did. I don't want the police force losing reputation or anything. I just want HIM nowhere near me.”
“You won’t be bothered by Detective baker again, I promise. If he so much as mentions you or gives me a suspicious look, I’ll have his badge and paperwork. You can trust the department.”
“Okay." Mike said, “Oh no ride, I love to walk. I walk everywhere. Good for the heart and the mind. Got a little heart condition. Doc says I need to walk more. I’m always out and about.” He smiled, taking his gun back out of the bag. “Which is exactly why I carry this. Renegade cops, renegades shooting cops. It's crazy. You just never know people till it’s too late.”
“You have a safe walk home, preacher.”
“I’m not a preacher anymore. Just a plumber.” He corrected.
Mike strolled down the frosty road, dialing Tanner.
“Mike…oh my shit, are you dead?”
“No, I just left the police station. You got the Glock?”
“Yea. They let you go?” she asked, relieved and amazed.
“Of course they did. I did get roughed up a little by some rogue detective named Baker. You ever hear that name?” he asked, a sinister glimmer in his eye.
“No…I don’t know any cops by name.”
“Well this one is trouble, he’ll throw people under the bus to get his way and he won’t be harassing me anymore. If he does, he may lose his job or his life. So be on the lookout for this man.” He said sending a picture from the gas station security cam...of her and Baker. “If I see him near you, I’ll kill him.” He said, hanging up. She stood silently, unsure what to do or say, or if she should be running. She quickly grabbed the 22 off the wall, unloading it and pocketing the ammo, double-checking her gun and the Glock.
“So… how is this gonna go down, preacher?” she asked herself aloud. Finding a good spot to sit, with a wall to her back and a clear view of the door. She placed both 9mm pistols loaded on the table and rested her hands on them, calming herself and staring at the door lock, waiting. A half hour passed. She calmed her paranoia and opened her eyes, noticing a small red dot on the table between the guns and slowly moving to her chest. The phone rang again, the name "Preacher Mikey" displayed, as she slowly answered it.
“Hello?” she asked. “Mike is that you?”
“Yea that’s me. Are you listening very carefully, Tanner?”
"I am now." she said, staring at the laser dot on her sternum. "I'm listening very carefully."