Keith DeCandido - Four Walls

Frowning, Ursitti said, "I was kinda wonderin' that myself."

"I think we need to talk to Mr. el-Jabbar."

"He's in the box," Russell said. To Ursitti: "Have him brought to the interview room."

Ursitti's radio crackled, informing him that Flack had arrived.

"Have him meet us at the interview room," Mac told Ursitti, who nodded to him and Russell.

It took several minutes for Mac and Russell to get to the interview room, which was halfway across the prison. The walk was a much different experience today then it had been yesterday, when the place was in lockdown. Inmates walked casually through the corridors and outside. Most of them respectfully greeted Russell, and the captain gave them each at least a nod back. Some he talked to, asking how they were doing. A couple tried to engage him in conversation, but he politely put them off to another time. One even said, "This is about Malik and Vance, right?"

Russell said, "I can't really say," even though it was obvious that it couldn't be anything else.

Several more minutes passed after they arrived before Flack showed up, escorted by Ursitti.

"Glad you could make it," Mac said with a wry smile as the pair entered.

Shaking his head, Flack said, "Ran my damn siren on the BQE, and I still couldn't move more than ten miles an hour. I'm half-tempted to leave the car here and fly back with you."

Mac felt Flack's pain. It was less of an issue for the crime lab, as they generally weren't needed until after everything was over, but New York City traffic had always been a major impediment to cops' ability to arrive at a crime scene in a timely manner. Mac knew that Flack felt that frustration keenly. It was even worse for FDNY, for whom time was always of the essence. Fire truck drivers, he knew, hated navigating the city streets with a passion.

While waiting for el-Jabbar's arrival, Mac filled Flack in on Melendez's condition.

Flack's eyebrows formed a V over his blue eyes. "How the hell did el-Jabbar find out about Melendez?"

"We'll know soon," Russell said confidently.

Mac hoped that confidence was warranted.

Eventually, Officer Andros brought in Hakim el-Jabbar. The inmate wore a knit red-and-white skullcap on his head, but otherwise sported the usual prison dickies. Yesterday he had been one of Mac and Flack's many interviews, but he claimed not to have seen anything. He wasn't a very big man, but he had wide, expressive brown eyes, an aquiline nose, and a broad mouth surrounded by a thin beard.

He spoke in a soft, insistent voice. "What can I do for you gentlemen today?"

"For starters," Flack said, "why'd you beat the crap out of Jorge Melendez?"

"Jorge was a pretender. He used the word of Allah for his own purposes. And when Brother Malik exposed his lie, Jorge killed him. He needed to pay for that." As he spoke, el-Jabbar folded his handcuffed hands neatly in front of him on the table.

Mac stared at those hands while Flack continued the questioning.

"What makes you think that Melendez killed 'Brother Malik'?"

El-Jabbar smiled, showing a wide array of perfect teeth. "There is no need to be coy, Detective. I'm aware of the fact that he is your primary suspect."

Flack leaned forward. "Fine. We'll drop coy. How the hell did you find out Melendez was a suspect?"

"I prefer to protect my sources. Let us just say that information comes my way."

Mac spoke up. "You're not a journalist, Mr. el-Jabbar, and you're not a lawyer. You're a prisoner. Privilege doesn't apply."

"Perhaps not. But the punishment for nonco-operation would be solitary confinement-which I am already enduring."

That elicited a snort from Andros.

"So," Flack said, "when this information came your way, you took it upon yourself to take care of business?"

"Brother Malik was a respected member of the community-both inside this prison and outside it. Jorge needed to pay, so I administered justice in the shower this morning."

"Yeah." Flack leaned back and folded his arms over his dark tie. "Administering justice is kind of our thing." El-Jabbar was about to speak, but Flack unfolded his arms to raise one hand, cutting him off. "I know, I know, it's just 'white man's justice.' That doesn't really count for you, does it?"

"Something like that." Again, el-Jabbar smiled.

Mac decided he didn't like that smile and so was determined to wipe it off his face. "There's just one problem, Mr. el-Jabbar-you didn't beat anybody up."

Sure enough, the smile fell, which gave Mac a measure of satisfaction. "I beg your pardon, Detective?"

"Beg all you want, you're not getting it." Pointing at el-Jabbar's hands, still folded neatly, Mac said, "Your knuckles are smooth and clean. No abrasions, no calluses. Whoever attacked Melendez was experienced and would have evidence of that experience on his hands. Evidence doesn't lie, Mr. el-Jabbar-and in this case, neither does lack of evidence. Who are you covering for?"

"I do not need to 'cover' for anyone, Detective. It was my wish that Jorge pay for Brother Malik's death."

Mac shook his head. So now he was changing his story-he ordered the beat-down. "Unfortunately, you collected your debt from the wrong man." At el-Jabbar's confused expression, he added: "Malik Washburne died of anaphylactic shock. Jorge Melendez didn't kill him."

"What? But I was told-" He cut himself off.

Flack stared at him. "Who told you?"

"It does not matter."

"Yeah, it kind of does. See, info about suspects isn't something we like to have advertised in the middle of an investigation."

"Probably one of the COs," Andros said.

Russell drew himself up. "What makes you say that, Officer?"

Andros shrugged. "Most of the other COs liked Washburne for whatever stupid reason."

Defensively, Flack said, "He used to be a good cop."

"Maybe-I don't know about that. I do know that everybody liked him."

Pointedly, el-Jabbar said, "Except for you, Officer Andros."

Ignoring him, Andros said, "The point is, I could see one of the COs telling 'Brother Hakim' here that Melendez was the suspect, 'cause they know just how he'd respond."

"That doesn't make sense," Russell said. "And besides, if Detective Taylor is right, and el-Jabbar didn't do it, why take credit when it means going into the box?"

"Please." Andros snorted. "For him, solitary's a vacation. It's quiet, he gets food brought to him, and he can meditate."

Flack turned to el-Jabbar. "So how 'bout it, 'Brother'? Who gave Melendez up?"

"Again, Detective," el-Jabbar said placidly, "I prefer to protect my sources."

"And protect yourself," Mac said. "Assuming Officer Andros is correct, and you give up a CO, there might be retribution."

Archly, Russell said, "That doesn't go on here."

Mac didn't see any need to press the issue-though Andros did give another derisive snort. El-Jabbar wasn't going to talk. Mac wasn't thrilled, but it was also beside the point.

And they were no closer to finding out how Malik Washburne had died.

Danny Messer just loved the NYPD Crime Lab's proprietary computer-aided design program, which they used to reconstruct crime scenes.

The programming geeks had streamlined the whole thing, so all you had to do was enter in the height and weight of a person. If you wanted to add further details, you could, or you could just use the generic body. Then you entered the dimensions of the figure's surrounding environment.

It was all pretty basic stuff, but the streamlining was what made the difference. In particular, Danny loved the fact that it could cross-reference with the autopsy records, so all you had to do was enter the case number and it would provide an image of the body right away.

As soon as Sheldon came to him saying that they needed to reconstruct Malik Washburne's murder with the new information that showed he died from his throat closing up, Danny immediately ran to the computer like a kid on Christmas morning. Sheldon, of course, let him, knowing that Danny would piss and moan if he ran the program without him.