For NaNoWriMo: The Field of Blood, part 9
This portion was written on Nov. 10.
Captain H.F Lee of Big Loft's police enters The Field of Blood in part 9, watching his cousin Captain Hamilton's back as the situations around the investigation of Mr. Rett's death become dangerous to not only Captain Hamilton, but all of Tinyville! You can get caught up on part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, and part 8 to catch up on all the twists and turns!
Finally found a photograph of my own to make into a starter graphic -- a portion of my #photography, in new use... found this stunning tree late last fall in a field in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park!
Always watch your buddy's back – if there were no other rule of military life, the first rule Colonel H.F. Lee would have made up was that one. The colonel had carried that over into his new life as a police captain, especially when it came to his cousin, his best friend, and his finest adjutant, Major Hamilton, who likewise was now a police captain, in Tinyville.
When Captain Lee and Captain Hamilton had talked on the phone, Captain Lee had sensed the potential danger in the case: tens of millions of dollars had been at stake in the development of that field in Tinyville, in addition to the explosive racial tensions present in Lofton County. Mr. Rett's death could explode both, and Captain Hamilton would be squarely in the middle. However, Captain Lee knew all too well: it would be the money that would get Captain Hamilton killed, because somewhere around Mr. Rett, the money was funny, and that much money being funny was no laughing matter.
Captain Lee was not the field investigator his cousin was, although competent in that area; when he thought of the field his old instincts swung into play … when still a teenager, he had been able to sense immediate danger threatening those he loved, and those instincts had been what had gotten a general's attention and him into West Point and Special Forces. Those instincts had been honed to a fine point by military service, still more by command, still more toward Captain Hamilton, who had served with him the toughest parts of their shared army careers in addition to their having been close all their lives.
Captain Hamilton used to kid people that Captain Lee could hear a mosquito buzzing 100 miles away around Captain Hamilton's head and do whatever he had to do to get across that 100 miles to snatch that mosquito out of the air and pulverize it before it ever tasted Captain Hamilton's blood. It was a joke, but at the same time, there was truth in it. Commissioner Orton Thomas was probably as good as good as dead the instant he shot at one of the two police officers coming to make his arrest. Captain Hamilton had lined up his return shot and Captain Lee had gotten around the back through the open back door – but what had gotten the commissioner's brains spread across the wall was that he had shot at Captain Hamilton first. Captain Lee had gotten up to point-blank range and spread the commissioner's brains across the wall for that – Captain Lee wasn't having it, period. The word had gotten around, too … people thought twice about taking on Captain Hamilton because of the reputation his cousin had built in Big Loft in addition to his army record.
But, the memo had not gotten to everyone … someone rolled up to the Caldwell Plaza high-rise with a big bulge on their hip, looked both ways, and then went in, an invitation for Captain Lee to follow right behind him while texting Captain Hamilton an alert …
Captain Hamilton's phone buzzed just as he was returning the last of the documents to the file cabinet. He knew the number, of course, and the text too was typical: “Armed enemy moving on your position – five minutes at best.”
Captain Hamilton texted back: “Affirmative. Take alive. Repeat: Take alive.”
Four minutes, 40 seconds: Captain Hamilton flashed back for ten of those seconds to the mission called Five Bright Nine, in which he and then-Colonel Lee had exactly five minutes to figure out what to do with a bungled strategy from their superiors that was about to get them ambushed by a force 16 times their unit's size.
Compared to that – Captain Hamilton pulled himself back to the present this way all the time – this five-minute situation was going to be easy.
Four minutes, 30 seconds: Captain Hamilton replaced all the files in the file cabinet, locked it, made sure all the files had saved to his scanner, and then shut down his scanner and put it back in his backpack.
Four minutes: Captain Hamilton took the key back to the place where he had found it, and replaced it in the book called “Backups.” He then booted up the computer, put in the actual password, copied all the documents to the thumb drive, changed the password by adding one number to it, and then shut the computer down by unplugging it, saving the time for a boot down before plugging the computer back in. The “Backups” book he left on the desk, and put the thumb drive in his pocket.
30 seconds: Captain Hamilton heard footsteps pausing by the door. It was locked because he had re-locked it, so it would still be a few more seconds... he checked the desk drawers to make sure he had shut them properly, and then picked up the backpack and withdrew to the master bedroom.
The door to the apartment opened, the lock having been expertly picked. By this time, Captain Hamilton had gone back to the walk-in closet. He made a slight part in the clothes on the left side, revealing the file cabinet just a little, and then parted the clothes on the right side and stepped through, concealing himself in the corner of the right side after concealing his backpack up among the other bags Mr. Rett had.
They'll find me out if they notice my beat-up army sack among all these designer bags, he thought with a smile. But it was the last smile for a while as he eased his gun out. He knew his cousin had his back, but still, he had to still guard his front … he had 12 reasons at home beside himself wanting to be home at the end of the day. Captain Hamilton hated to kill or even severely harm, but he had always done what he had to do. There were well over 100 gravestones that testified to the fact.
The new personage in the apartment was not interested in whoever might be there, Captain Hamilton having left no easy trace to his presence. Instead, the person was looking for things – the desk drawers were opened up and the paperwork was rifled. Then, the computer was booted up, and that led to several minutes of frustration because of Captain Hamilton's added number to the password in the book. The voice was big and angry, although that was not a proper gauge of a man's size.
A better gauge, however, came as the computer was heaved into the air and slammed to the floor – one slam was judged sufficient, and it sounded absolutely effective. Then, there was simply a snap – a hard drive, gone.
Captain Hamilton took that moment to exploit a gap in the rack above him – he wedged his camera up and through, hoping that he could get a view of whatever was about to take place...
Onward – the personage entered the master bedroom in his search and walked into the walk-in closet – oh, yes, he was big, at least six feet two or three, in his thirties, White, brunette, and immediately drawn to the file cabinet Captain Hamilton had left revealed. The young man used the keys to the file cabinet, but started from the top down – “Oh, of course they overpaid the n****r before offing him” – he said as he looked through the financial documents. He slammed that drawer and then went to the next one down.
“Bingo.”
He wanted those court documents, and began removing them by armfuls and putting them into a sack he had brought. He then reached right up over Captain Hamilton's head – “Well, he won't be needing this one” – and stole one of the bags and put it in his sack. He then left the key on top of the cabinet and did not bother to close the second drawer before he walked out.
Captain Hamilton replaced his gun, and texted Captain Lee.
“Enemy approaching. Pursue.”
Captain Lee was right outside the apartment door, and spun across the hall to knock on the door of the neighbor – the man who had been through Mr. Rett's apartment thought he had just walked up and so moved on, never noticing Captain Lee trailing him. Captain Hamilton swiftly caught up after taking a picture of the thoroughly destroyed computer, and the two men eased into Captain Lee's car after the younger men headed down the street to his car.
“Are you all right, Ham?” Captain Lee asked as he started his car.
“Just fine – thank you for watching my back, and thank you a second time for his sake.”
Captain Lee smiled.
“So you thought I texted you for his sake, eh?”
“Look, Harry, he was in all kinds of danger. I could have killed him. You would have killed him for making me have to fight him. That poor man will get saved immediately upon recognizing what the Lord spared him from today – all he will have for his trouble is theft and destruction of evidence and a few years in the criminal justice system if he doesn't sing and plead out on whoever he is going to lead us to. He could have been in hell, Harry – I tell you that young man, if he ever gets the right understanding, might become a stronger Christian than you or me.”
“Ham, I can't drive if you have me laughing this hard.”
“Sorry … I need to behave … sorry.”
Down the street, around the corner, and onto the highway, back to Tinyville, and a particular address.
“Well, I'll be,” Captain Hamilton said. “That's the home of Adam Folsom-Slocum, vice president of the Topia Development Group that wants to build out that field so bad.”
“How interesting,” Captain Lee said. “Let's see if our delivery boy follows through – get out your camera.”
“Yep – that's Mr. Adam Folsom-Slocum,” Captain Hamilton said as he focused the camera. “And, yes, the delivery is being made.”
Snap after snap after snap as the young man delivered the paperwork. Mr. Folsom-Slocum took a few moments to examine the paperwork, and then smiled and gave a big, fat envelope to the young man. The young man checked the envelope just as soon as Mr. Folsom-Slocum closed his door – yep, a fat stack of money. Meanwhile, Captain Lee photographed the young man's license plate number and then called it in to have it run.
“Car belongs to Joe Dillard – 32, works as a bouncer in several clubs in Big Loft. Several cases of misdemeanor assault and petty theft, suspect in some bigger-time robberies of high net-worth individuals in the clubs he works in.”
“He does have some serious lock-picking skills,” Captain Hamilton said, “and, he did have the presence of mind to wear gloves. But we know where he is when we want him; let him go. I need to get a little closer here.”
Just as soon as the young man pulled away in his car, Captain Hamilton eased out of the car with his camera and got right up on a window to Mr. Folsom-Slocum's house. Captain Lee enjoyed watching his cousin move over the terrain with all those I-see-you-but-you'll-never-spot-me moves until he was peeking through the window and had his camera in place as he crouched down below the window's sight line, the flip viewer showing him what the camera saw while he didn't. Ten minutes later, he returned.
“Mr. Folsom-Slocum put the papers into the safe,” he said, “and, I zoomed in and caught the combination. Let's get back to Big Loft and get at those court documents there and see what the fuss is about.”
The Honorable Joseph Bane Lofton had one of the world's most patient clerks, owing to the judge's own idiosyncrasies. Thus, Mr. Fred Clark looked like he had not been inconvenienced at all by Captain Hamilton being 90 minutes late on a Saturday.
“Oh, don't worry about it,” he said as Captain Hamilton apologized. “Justice is sometimes messily timely. I pulled everything that you wanted while I waited, and also all the related cases. His Honor Joe [how Joseph Bane Lofton's colleagues affectionately referred to him] said there were more cases related than Captain Lee thought, so there is a lot. The thought His Honor Joe wanted me to convey – how the fill-in-the-unholy-blank does Topia Development keep getting into and out of these court scrapes mostly unscathed?”
Captain Lee and Captain Hamilton looked at each other for a moment.
“Thank you for your help, Mr. Clark, and convey to His Honor both thanks for the extra information and a promise that when I know, I'll take him to dinner so he can find out.”
“Oh, he'll love that,” Mr. Clark said, “just as much as I loved your wife's plum pie – thank you.”
Out came the scanner, and between stacks of scans, Captains Hamilton and Lee looked through the documents on the case between the Lofton County Black Historical Preservatin Society and Tinyville.
“The Society put up an excellent fight,” Captain Hamilton noted, “but, no matter which way they turned, the other side parried it – after two years, the society ran out of options.”
“Most organizations would not have lasted two years in a fight like this,” Captain Lee said. “Mr. Rett must have managed their money exceptionally well just to keep up with their lawyers.”
“He did,” Captain Hamilton said. “He was a fantastic treasurer.”
“Tinyville made some big slip-ups, too,” Captain Lee said. “One can see how the Lofton County Free Voice is so ferocious, given that it has quite a lot of the same crew working on it. They caught Tinyville on some big ones – the society didn't have to lose, by any means.”
“True – but that goes to your friend the judge's question: how do these folks who work with Topia Development keep sliding by?” Captain Hamilton said.
“I imagine Adam Folsom-Slocum might have some answers to the question,” Captain Lee said, “provided the way is suitably prepared for him to see it is in his best interest to answer.”
“Right,” Captain Hamilton said. “Morton Data Master and Lieutenant O'Reilly and I will crunch all of this data, and after that I think we will know how to prepare that way. Leave Joe Dillard until Tuesday or so – watch him, but hold off on grabbing him.”
“Will do – I will put in that request.”
“Thank you – all right, let me get back down the road and finish up at the office. Aggie and the rest are not entirely happy about this full workday on a Saturday, so I need to get Morton Data Master set up to do a weekend crunch after Lieutenant O'Reilly and I have squared away all that we can. Are you coming down this evening, Harry? I ought to bring Hamiltown a consolation prize.”
Captain Lee smiled, but that faded into the marble grimness worthy of the two captains' most famous shared relative named Lee.
“I did have other plans, but I was going to change them anyway, including taking a vacation week.
“Ironwood” – and Captain Hamilton recognized his cousin only called him by his full first name at the most serious moments – “you have been blessed in a way you cannot understand because you have no means of comparison. Money has never been an object for you because you learned, very early, that God could and would provide without it being present. You have never known greed from either extreme of poverty or riches – the greed of those without it, who love it and cannot obtain it although they will sin any sin to try, or the greed of those who have it, cannot be satisfied with it, and will sin any sin to obtain more. The trouble with the latter is that the society accords them power by virtue of the money they already have – they have more power to put behind their ruthless sinning. The crime we witnessed today is just the tip of a big and ugly iceberg.
“Watch your back, Ironwood. At this point, the way this case turns out is going to mess up the money many powerful people are anticipating. I just did that here in Big Loft, but I was protected because the last assassin turned on the big boys and burned out the most powerful foes I would have had, in the Ridgeline Fire. Still, note well that despite my division's impeccable record on cold cases, it has been cut from the police budget for next year. We have messed up too much money for too many to be allowed to exist in 2020 – or so it appears.
“Tinyville is much, much smaller, Ironwood – a lot of people there, down to the average White man, were looking to profit from that recreation area. A lot of people are still hoping to get what they want, and they are staking the matter on one side or the other of your investigation. We are beyond hurt feelings over a racist past – we are now down to the core of malice, pride, and greed over land and profit that created racism, and those of that mindset will grind you and your family up and keep going.”
“I know, Harry. Comes with the territory. I will be careful – already anticipating putting the family protocols in place for Tuesday, when enough people realize that I'm not just going to explain this away as a neat little suicide.”
“With all due respect,” Captain Lee said, “you're already a day behind, Ironwood. Your predecessor would have closed this case yesterday and let it get swept under the rug, so by Monday business could resume as usual. But here you are working today, frustrating news men, trailing suspects, and putting information together. Don't think note has not already been made.”
“Right … you can't be a White man investigating a Black man's death and do the right thing. The Black people don't believe you are serious, and the White people worry that you are too serious.”
“You're messing up the money on all sides – and, God help you if somehow the whole matter of what happens to that field gets revisited because of your investigation.”
“Does look like Tapia may be covering itself, doesn't it?” Captain Hamilton said.
“Watch your back, Ironwood,” Captain Lee said. “The city council that has given you support to this point may turn on you as well.”
“I thought about it – oh well, Harry. Who said we ever wanted civilian life to be boring anyway?”
Captain Lee smiled just a little bit.
“Good point. However, civil war is no fun.”
Captain Hamilton laughed.
“You don't say, Harry?”
“I will be down to Hamiltown this evening, Ironwood – I will also bring whatever food you desire as a peace offering to Agnes on our doing work today.”
Captain Lee knew about the way people acted about money because he had plenty of it – as a widower of chaste, Spartan habits, he had saved 60 percent of every Army check for 23 years, and 80 percent of his police check He was also one-third owner of Morton Technologies, and one of its chief salesmen … he had introduced it to the U.S. military, who was a large customer of the company's software. All this on top of a trust fund he had inherited through his Slocum-Lofton mother – and knowing, being that he had been raised by his mountain-man grandfather and further hardened by Special Forces, that he could walk away from all of that and not miss it.
So, Captain Lee was as generous as the needs around him required. He was private about his charitable work and giving, but Captain Hamilton knew his hand was always open, and it was good to know.
“Already took care of it this morning before getting up here – doubled back once with food before driving through to Big Loft – but any dessert you'd like to bring would be lovely.”
“Consider it done, Ironwood.”
Captain Hamilton absolutely refused to work on Sunday unless it was an absolute emergency – somebody had to be dead or dying on site to get him into the office. Nonetheless, all Saturday night through Monday morning, Morton Data Master quietly crunched and crunched within the parameters Captain Hamilton and Lieutenant O'Reilly had worked out for it – “no search for data is any better for the parameters set for it,” Captain Hamilton had insisted, “and, we many still not be asking the right questions to get the right parameters, so, the results of these four sets of parameters will have to be compared, and a fifth set and sixth set prepared to cover what we have missed.”
On Monday morning, Lieutenant O'Reilly started slightly to see Captain Lee, in plain clothes, at the office. Frankly, the younger lieutenant was fascinated but thoroughly frightened by his commander's grim cousin; he had not yet heard but could completely understand how Captain Lee had that nickname, “the Angel of Death.” He was also disturbed by how completely undisturbed Captain Lee was with who he was – deadly, and completely unashamed.
Still, Captain Lee had something going for him … if Lieutenant O'Reilly thought of Captain Hamilton as a father figure, he allowed that Captain Lee saw Captain Hamilton as a brother-figure. The two men balanced each other out – and so did the three, as the two captains both smiled at the sight of the lieutenant.
“Always early!” Captain Hamilton said. “You have your five excellent lieutenants, Captain Lee, but you don't have Lieutenant O'Reilly, and it is your loss!”
“I am willing to concede that he is the finest lieutenant in Tinyville,” Captain Lee said, “and, if things continue as they are in Big Loft, my lieutenants will have to come up to his standard to get a job here! Things are so bad I might have to take a demotion and come in as a junior in seniority to you, Lieutenant!”
Captain Hamilton guffawed so hard Lieutenant O'Reilly started laughing, and at last saw Captain Lee smile his full smile … maybe he wasn't so bad, after all.
The morning ritual for Tinyville's captain and lieutenant was to walk through the town and get a sense of its state on Monday before officially settling in at the office, and Captain Lee was glad to share this walk with them. Down every street, around every corner, and, since the early summer, looking at how the Lofton County Free Voice had been posted up in every available space.
“They're like magic news mushrooms in Tinyville,” Lieutenant O'Reilly said. “Believe me, people are trying to find out who distributes the things and at what time, but we are months in and nobody knows yet. Mr. Varick, the editor-in-chief, still isn't even recognized in town.”
“There is a certain blindness that many have,” Captain Lee said, “because they refuse to assign Black people that much power in their minds. But, to follow your analogy, Lieutenant, we all in Lofton County have been force-fed these magic news mushrooms and have been on quite a trip – the power is undeniable.”
“And, we are about to go on another strange trip,” Captain Hamilton said. “The Free Voice has not only published the account of Mr. Rett's death, but also the details of 1967 massacre and the 56 Black people who were killed on that field – and they are saying they have and will be releasing have photographs of documents showing what White people were involved and where they and their heirs still fit into the Tinyville power structure around having that field paved over.”
Captain Hamilton shook his head.
“You know, it is in the psychological manuals – it is in the nature of psychopaths to confess to their crimes in such a way that they can be found and get credit for their cleverness. But they are never clever enough to realize what is going to happen to their children when that comes out.”
Captain Lee shook his head.
“My cousin the family man, thinking generations down the road, but some of the people involved in this are still alive, and they aren't going to get the credit in quite the way they want. They may need protection, Captain Hamilton – you better get a plan together for unrest.”
“Yikes,” Lieutenant O'Reilly said. “Hadn't thought about it, but, yeah, I'd hate to be the son or grandson of one of those folks over the next few days, what with the mood Black people in Lofton County seem to have been in lately. Still, to be fair, the violence usually doesn't come from that direction – but boy could there be some protests!”
“We don't have the staff to deal with that possibility, either,” Captain Hamilton said, “and if I have to call in county, Sheriff Nottingham's staff has a different way of handling these things. Violence may well break out between the White townspeople, Black protestors, and county – although if I read this right, I see why Sheriff Nottingham was not eager to have us do the investigation, although he was worried about the wrong investigative team.”
“Did I not say,” Captain Lee said, “that people are blind?”
Lieutenant O'Reilly looked and then jumped two feet in the air.
“Oh, snap. Oh, snap. Oh, snap. Oh, snap … ”
There, among the bigger names of those who participated in the 1967 massacre, and among the names for which the Free Voice had documented evidence, was one John Nottingham, with his elder brothers James and Joseph, as teenage participants in the 1967 massacre.
John Nottingham. Sheriff of Lofton County John Nottingham.
“Oh, snap. Oh, snap. Oh, snap. Oh, snap … ”
“I guess I won't be calling in county,” Captain Hamilton said.
“I suppose not,” Captain Lee said. “Let's reboot poor Lieutenant O'Reilly here, though – we need him!”
“Lieutenant,” Captain Hamilton said, and the younger man came to himself, sort of …
“Who do we have?” he said.
“Me and thee and Lee makes three,” Captain Hamilton said.
“Some vacation,” Captain Lee said.
“Oh, stop – you know you came down here to get in trouble with me, just like old times!” cried Captain Hamilton with a laugh.
“Guilty as charged,” Captain Lee said, with a smile. “Stick with us, young man O'Reilly – you will learn how to handle these types of situations and how to love doing it!”
“Well, new plan for the morning,” Captain Hamilton said. “The good people of Tinyville of all colors have a right to express themselves as American citizens – freedom of expression and assembly are our shared rights. SO: what is necessary for us to impress upon everyone is that there had better not be any crossing of the line between expression and violence. We cannot control it if it breaks out, but we have at least a six-hour head start, maybe 12 – we can't control it, but nobody has to know that, because it ain't gonna happen here. Since it can't happen, we're not going to let it happen.”
Captain Lee smiled.
“Grand and perfect plan, Captain.”