Roz Fox - She Walks the Line

Silence fell over the office. Only the department clerk kept typing. Her earphones were in place.

“Look, guys,” Mei said, rapping her pen sharply on her desk. She resented that this byplay was still happening at this stage of her career. She especially resented what wasn’t a slip of Marshall’s tongue. Usually she fired back at anyone who tacked rude monikers on Catherine. Today, though, Mei simply wanted to get on with her task. “I’ve worked with most of you in the past,” she said evenly. “Nothing’s changed except that I’ve received a promotion. I didn’t stand on that dais alone on Friday. Yet I don’t hear you giving Lieutenant Herrera a hard time.”

A few people, those who were good cops, returned to work. Others didn’t hide their animosity. Murdock hesitated a fraction longer, then stomped into his office and slammed the door.

Ignoring the men who continued to glare, Mei calmly gathered up her notes. It was time to find a more secure corner in which to finish her report. Mei didn’t consider her leaving a retreat by any means; she was just being practical, since Catherine had stressed the importance of the case.

The truth in this department was that no matter how progressive a spin public relations put on hiring practices, subtle harassment of females still existed, and tended to flare up following a transfer or a promotion.

Catherine worked hard to crack down on gender or racial bias. But she couldn’t cover all bases, and even she had her hands full. Some city official or other was constantly running to local reporters with allegations of internal police corruption.

An investigator from Mei’s previous unit looked up as she passed his door. He jumped up, calling her. “Mei Lu. Do you have a minute? I just received notice that Judge Burkholder authorized an appeal in David St. John’s case. Since you presented our evidence at the original trial and phase two will probably fall to me, I’d like to pick your brain if I may.”

Mei skidded to a halt. “You’re kidding! Someone granted St. John’s appeal? He’s guilty as sin. He bilked more than thirty senior citizens out of their life savings. What are the grounds for granting him another hearing?”

Her fellow investigator stood aside, then followed her to his desk where the St. John file lay open. “Same old stupid technicality, Mei. David engaged a new attorney, who claims the arresting officer brought him in, booked him and stood him in a lineup, all before giving St. John access to counsel.”

“The officer nabbed him coming out of the victim’s bank. He had her cash on him. Three former victims, and Mrs. Baxter, picked him out of that lineup.” Mei sat down and thumbed through the folder. “Don’t tell me we’re going to have to let that creep walk on this one, Patrick. I couldn’t prove it but I strongly suspect he’s pulled his scam in other cities. This problem is spreading nationwide.”

Pat Wilkinson spun a second chair around and sat beside Mei. “I’ve got no doubt that you’re right. Even though St. John only drew an eighteen-month sentence, I want the bastard to serve every second. Guys who prey on old folks or kids are at the bottom of the food chain. My grandpa lost his savings in a similar scheme last year in L.A.” He shook his head. “I never thought Gramps would trust a stranger with his bank information. I guess the elderly are prime targets for fast-talking con men and women.”

“Sure. They see their savings dwindling. The con artists are often normal-looking people who come across as trustworthy. They all promise to double or triple whatever money the victim has put away. Of course, the victims want to leave something for their children.”

“According to your notes, you recommended not putting any of these victims on the stand unless absolutely necessary.”

“Right. Because in general they can be easily rattled by slick opposing counsel. Defense attorneys tend to question their failing eyesight or faulty hearing. Last year I did months of legwork and had a female con dead to rights. Her lawyer shredded our case. Her transactions were all verbal. She claimed she never said what the victims claimed they heard. But with this St. John guy—Mrs. Baxter might make a good witness.”

Mei and Patrick retraced her early work through every twist and turn. It was quitting time before he seemed satisfied that he’d gleaned enough information about the case to let her go.

She ended up dashing off a passable report on the artifact smuggling, and ran it upstairs moments before Catherine’s assistant left for the day. The chief’s office was closed and dark. “I’m glad I caught you, Annette,” Mei said breathlessly. “Can you put this report envelope on Chief Tanner’s desk? I wouldn’t ask, but she impressed on me earlier that she wants to keep this information confidential.”

“Oh, Lieutenant Ling. Chief Tanner tried to reach you before she left. No one in your department knew where you were.”

“Sorry, I should’ve told Captain Murdock I was next door consulting with Pat Wilkinson on an old case. Did the chief need something specific? Should I bother her at home or try her cell?”

“No. She’s attending a city council meeting tonight. She only wants to be called in extreme emergencies,” Annette said.

“I’d never contact her after hours without authorization,” Mei stated firmly. People at the precinct already thought she, Risa, Crista and Lucy had undue access to Catherine. The last thing Mei wanted was for another rumor to start. Not that Annette would talk out of turn… “I won’t be going straight home, either,” she added. “I plan to work out for a while at the Shao-Lin Martial Arts Studio. Chief Tanner has the number. Could you add that information to your note? In case she comes back after her meeting and wants to reach me after reading this report.”

Annette nodded. Mei waited to make sure the woman did place the envelope on Catherine’s desk. Call her paranoid, but early in her career she’d had an important report inexplicably disappear. She swore she’d turned it in, and the man responsible for handing it over to a superior was just as insistent that she’d done nothing of the sort. Since then Mei had tracked the progress of her reports.

Forty-five minutes later, having donned a loose-fitting shirt and pants to work out in, Mei was in the process of closing her locker when Crista Santiago bounded into the dressing room. Crista always did everything with a limitless energy that Mei envied. Mei was tired of avoiding her old friends. Words had flown and meanings were misconstrued after Risa was wrongly accused of shooting and killing her partner. Some of the once-close group of women had felt a need to pull back for the sake of their own fledgling careers, and hard feelings still existed. So many times she and Crista had talked about working out together again. Thinking tonight was as good a chance as any, Mei Lu shot her friend a welcoming smile.

“Qué pasa?” Crista said, unable to sidestep Mei Lu.

Mei shrugged. “Nothing’s happening in my life—how about yours? Are you upset, Crista? Or annoyed? Those are the only times I’ve heard you revert to Spanish.”

“Could be Alex’s influence,” she said, referring to her fiancé, a man she’d met when she’d investigated the drive-by shooting of his daughter. “Or it could be the fact that I had a double homicide last night on the east side, and I’m beat. Two teens vying for top spot in their gang. So senseless,” the dark-eyed woman said as she pulled on a T-shirt and sweatpants. “But I think you’re holding back, Mei. Right before I left the station I heard whispers that you tangled with Captain Murdock.” Crista lowered her voice. “Can you talk about it?”

Mei lifted an eyebrow. “Wow, news does travel at the speed of light. I wouldn’t say we tangled, exactly. You know Murdock and his cutesy names. I merely informed him I’d rather he called me Lieutenant or Lieutenant Ling.”