J. Bertrand - Nothing to Hide

“Don’t you think, under the circumstances, that you’d be better off pulling out your other asset? There’s no way of predicting what might happen.”

She glares at me, stony-faced. “That’s not an option, I’m afraid.”

Though she may look young, though she may look like a pushover, Bea Kuykendahl has a spine. She’s not about to give ground, which means we’re at an impasse. I can feel it, and so must Bascombe. He shifts uncomfortably, not too pleased with the choice before him.

“I can take this?” I ask, rising to my feet with the file in hand.

She waves her hand in permission.

“Ready, sir?” I ask.

I’m afraid he’ll say something. Afraid he’ll commit us to a course of action. I want more than anything to get him out of the room before that happens.

“Listen-” he says to her.

“We need to think this over,” I say.

Bea squeezes her clasped hands. “Fine. Just remember what I told you. You’re playing with a man’s life, Detective.”

She doesn’t move to escort us out. As we leave the bullpen, the door opens and a couple of agents who look as young and disheveled as their boss file in. They lock eyes with us, clearly knowing our purpose here. I push past them, ignoring the hard looks.

Bascombe and I don’t talk until we’re outside, back in the car, sitting with the engine running and waiting for the air-conditioning to cool us down.

“That’s not what I was expecting,” I say. “I don’t know what she expects me to do.”

“You know exactly what she wants.”

“Yeah, I just don’t know how to go about doing it. How do you investigate someone who doesn’t exist? Leaving him on the slab is one thing-that’s bad enough-but going through the motions, pretending I’m on the case. That’s just a waste of time.”

“I don’t know,” he says.

I look at him, but he doesn’t look back.

“It wouldn’t require much. Just put the story out there, make a little bit of an effort. If that’s enough to get her insider off the hook, maybe it’s worth doing.”

“You’re serious, sir?”

He grips the wheel thoughtfully. “I think I am. That girl, I like her spunk. She’s putting it on the line and I don’t feel like disrespectin’ that, not if we don’t have to.”

“I’d rather know whose murder I’m really investigating.”

“You’re a detective, March. Go find out.”

The file feels heavy in my hand. Bending the rules doesn’t bother me, and in a good cause I don’t mind a little trouble, but I can’t think when I’ve ever been in a situation like this. It doesn’t feel right.

“What do I tell Lorenz?” I ask. “What do I tell the captain?”

He sighs. “Listen here. I wasn’t gonna say nothing, but since keeping secrets is the order of the day. The captain’s turning in his papers.”

“ What ?”

“You remember last year, during the runoff elections? He got sucked into the politics and started making alliances. Well, Drew Hedges is a good man, but he’s no kind of politician. What he did is, he alienated a lot of people. Burned himself good. And the result is, his job is up for grabs. There’s a shakeup coming, and he’s out. That’s all there is to it.”

“Hedges is out? But he’s a cop’s cop.”

“Between you and me, he’s ready. He told me after Ordway’s retirement party that he felt like a dinosaur, and if he was never moving up, then what was keeping him from moving out?”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“That’s the job. It got to him.”

“So what does this mean?” I can hardly keep up, hardly process it all. “Who’s moving into his office-you?”

He gives a mirthless laugh. “That what you think? No, man, it’s not gonna be me. Maybe when Lee Brown was still mayor. . but no. I don’t have no idea. All I can tell you is, you need to ready yourself. And don’t dump any of this on the captain now. He doesn’t need the headache.”

The sun beats down on us the whole drive back. I can feel myself getting hotter and hotter. Maybe the air-conditioning’s giving out. Maybe the ozone up above is spread particularly thin. Or maybe I’m out of my depth for once, not sure what I’m about to get myself into. A man’s life is at stake, Bea said, and for me that’s new territory. Avenging the dead is my job. With this new mission I don’t know where to begin.

And now the ground underneath me isn’t solid anymore. Hedges gave me a second chance when everybody else-Bascombe included-wanted to kick me to the curb. One thing I never imagined was that I’d outlast Drew Hedges in Homicide.

The file from Bea Kuykendahl’s office rests in my battered leather briefcase along with my old Filofax, a couple of digital audio recorders, a camera, some cuffs, a spare mag, and a mess of loose pens and paper clips and plug-in chargers. When I reach my desk, I transfer the file to a locked drawer for safekeeping, then hang my sport coat-an unlined, lightweight hand-me-down from my wife’s father-on the back of my ergonomic chair.

Lorenz pops over the cubicle wall, a satisfied grin on his face.

“What?” I ask.

“Take a guess.”

“Come on, Jerry.”

He produces a stack of paper from behind his back. “While you’ve been off doing whatever it is you do, I’ve got a name for JD. The match came back a half hour ago, and I’ve been doing some research. Guy’s name is Brandon Ford. Age thirty-four, six-foot-one, and there’s a Houston address. And guess what he does for a living. No? He’s a gun dealer.”

I take the printouts from his hand, flipping through the pages. Agent Kuykendahl is sure making this easy. But what kind of strings do you have to pull to seed the criminal database with false information? I wouldn’t have credited her with having this kind of pull. And if she does, what was the point of bringing me into the picture? Handing the stack of pages back, I sink into my chair.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” he says. “We need to get moving on this. I found a number for the victim’s ex-wife, so we can start with the death notification.”

“Right.”

But there won’t be an ex-wife, of course. Brandon Ford only exists on paper. That’s why Bea Kuykendahl needed to clue me in. She realized that with a little digging, we’d discover soon enough that we were investigating a lie.

“You ready to roll?” he asks.

“I just got here.”

“What’s the deal? You don’t seem too jazzed about the big break. Yesterday we had nothing and now-”

“Okay, okay. Just give me a second and I’ll catch up.”

While he grabs his gear, I head to Bascombe’s office to let him know what’s going on. The computer match doesn’t sit right with me. The more I contemplate the matter, the less I believe a special agent in the Houston field office can snap her fingers and make something like that happen. Whatever’s going on, I know Bea wasn’t straight with us this morning.

The lieutenant’s office is empty. I ask around, and one of the new detectives points in the direction of the captain’s door. The blinds are shut, so I approach with caution, tapping lightly on the doorframe. No answer.

Just leave it.

I turn to go. Heading out, I see Hedges coming from the break room with a steaming mug of coffee in hand. He gazes at his feet like he’s afraid of tripping or possibly lost in thought. Based on the news Bascombe shared, I’m sure he is. As I pass, I’m almost afraid to interrupt.

“Sir?” I ask.

He pauses, steadying his mug with his free hand.

“I’m looking for the lieutenant. He’s not with you?”

Stupid question. He glances side to side and cracks a halfhearted smile. “I don’t see him. Do you?”