Switchback. Ch10 pt1

At nine-thirty that morning, Lieutenant John Maynard, a rotund man of fifty-two and an officer with the Richmond police force for the past twenty-four years, all of a sudden began to feel nauseous. He sat before Frank Wellbeck, his head of department, a thin, grey-haired man with circular black-rimmed glasses who’d chosen to wear a blue-grey suit over a white button-down shirt and a gaudy-looking multi-coloured tie for their meeting, the tie being the root of Maynard’s nausea. After rubbing his eyes for the tenth time in half as many minutes, Maynard replaced his glasses, cleared his throat, and slid to the edge of his seat.

          ‘Look, Frank,’ he said. ‘You can’t suspend Carter, not for this.’

          ‘Well what the hell do you suggest I do, John? Offer him a fucking raise? Promote him? Tell him there are no hard feelings and all’s forgiven? And hey Carter, why don’t you go sleep with my God-damn fucking wife?’

          ‘He’s done nothing wrong, Frank.’

          ‘Nothing wrong, you say?’ Wellbeck rose from his chair. ‘He tracked down three people when he was supposed to be off duty, three people to whom we had nothing whatsoever that connected them to any rape case we were currently investigating. He gained entry into their apartment without a warrant and then shot two of them and forced a confession from the third by using a fucking taser on his God-damn gonads. And if that’s not enough, the guy whose nuts he fried just so happened to be the nephew of Senator Caine who called me not ten minutes ago to say he’s gonna have his over-priced team of shit-hot lawyers drag my ass over the coals if I don’t get Carter off the streets, pronto.’ He pressed his palms on his desk, leaned in, and lowered his voice. ‘So tell me, John, just how fucking wrong does it have to get?’

          Maynard lifted one of two manila folders from Wellbeck’s desk and opened it. ‘Clarissa Houseman, an eye-witness who lives next door to Caine and was cleaning the hallway when Carter arrived will testify that Carter had knocked on Caine’s door and was himself subjected to gunfire. A situation which we are both fully aware would give any cop just-cause to return fire and enter, without a warrant, on duty or off.’

          He flicked over the page.

          ‘And according to Carter’s own report,’ he said, looking over his glasses. ‘Twenty year-old Henry Caine was attempting to flee from a first-floor window when Carter zapped him in the only spot available to him, his no-good big fat fucking ass.’

          ‘Watch it, Maynard.’

          ‘After which, Caine willingly offered up the information that he and his two friends were responsible for the rape of sixteen year-old Sonia Marsh who lives on the ground floor of the same apartment block, and also three other recent sexual assaults in the area that we are currently investigating. And Clarissa Houseman heard all of this because she said Caine’s door was open and she stood there applauding Carter’s actions. You’ll find her signed statement enclosed, you should read it.’

          ‘I already did,’ said Wellbeck. ‘But as far as I’m concerned it’s nothing but a load of fabricated bullshit. And let’s face it, Maynard, this isn’t the first time Carter's been an out-of-control reckless asshole, is it?’

          ‘If you’re talking about the Hardman case, Carter was acquitted on all assault charges and fully reinstated that same day.’

          ‘No, John, I’m not talking about the Hardman case, but thanks for reminding me, I’d forgotten about that one. What I’m talking about is a drug bust five years ago that went so tits-up it cost the lives of four of my men and two innocent civilians who just so happened to be his wife and kid.’

          ‘You’re way out of line, Wellbeck. If you try to use that against him he’ll shove your head so far up your arse you’ll be sucking on your own lungs just to get some air.’ 

          ‘That’s exactly what I mean, he’s one volatile sonofabitch and the kind of loose cannon this department can do without.’ He stood, passed Maynard the second manila folder from his desk and turned to look out the window.

          Maynard took it, opened it. ‘What’s this?’

          ‘That’s what you’re going to give to Carter.’

          He read the first paragraph and again looked over his glasses. ‘You’re retiring him?’

          Wellbeck turned. ‘It’s an early retirement plan, instead of him waiting until he’s fifty-five this package will give him full benefits nine years early.’

          ‘He won’t go for this.’

          ‘Well that’s fine by me, because it’s not his choice.’

          Maynard sighed, closed the folder and got to his feet. ‘Okay, I’ll give it to him, and after I’ve managed to pull it back out my own ass what should I do with it?’

          Wellbeck sat, picked up the phone. ‘I need to call the senator,’ he said. ‘Close my door on your way out.’

 

Across town at his usual table in Frankie’s, Carter was sipping at his coffee between short bouts of twisting his wedding ring around on his finger when his cell phone rang.

          ‘Hey, Maynard, what’s up..? Right now..? No, just having a coffee… Sure, I’ll be there in about an hour, got an errand to run first... Yeah, you too.’

          Carter downed the last half of his coffee and left his customary dollar tip under the cup. ‘Hey, Frankie, gotta go, say hi to Maria for me would you?’

          ‘Sure thing, Carter, see you tonight, maybe.’

          Carter stepped out into the bright morning sun. He checked the amount of traffic on North Third to find it a horn-honker’s paradise. If you didn’t know it was a Sunday morning in mid-July you’d swear it was only three more shopping days till Christmas. So what happened to the day of rest? The day everyone wore their best clothes, the day everyone went to church, the day your family and close friends came round for a good roast dinner. It didn’t take long to come up with the one word answer to that riddle, greed, everyone’s darling of the seven sins. He slung his jacket over his shoulder and decided to leave his car on the parking lot. He much preferred to walk for twenty minutes to the cemetery than spend forty in a traffic jam.

 

After he hung up the call with Carter, Maynard again looked over the retirement proposal and wasn’t any less convinced that Carter was not going to accept it. He closed the folder and was about to go through Caine’s arrest report again when his desk phone rang.

          ‘Yel-low, Maynard here. Hey, Harv, long time no hear. How’s it hanging, old pal? It’s not? Why’s that? Uh huh, you don’t say, uh-huh, yeah? Really? Well what about the county sheriff, can’t he handle it? Hum, I see.’ Maynard nodded, drummed his fingers. ‘Okay, tell you what, leave it with me; I might have the kinda guy you’re looking for. Yeah, sure, no problem, no, no, the pleasure’s all mine, hey, give my best to Beverley won’t you? Yeah, yeah, see ya soon, Harv.’

          Maynard smiled for the first time all morning as he picked up the retirement folder and went straight upstairs to Wellbeck's office. ‘I might have a better solution than that shit retirement plan of yours,’ he told him.

          Wellbeck was at his desk, his head buried in a magazine, he didn’t bother to look up. ‘Not interested,’ he said.

          ‘It’ll get Carter out of your hair this afternoon and off these streets before the day’s end. Isn’t that what the senator wants?’

          Wellbeck raised his head and sat back, his fingers drumming the desk top.  ‘For how long?’

          Maynard shrugged. ‘A week, maybe two.’

          Drum, drum, drum.

          ‘Come on, Frank, what have you got to lose?’

          ‘Who wants him?’

          ‘Judge Reyner.’

          ‘Harvey Reyner? Leyton Falls?’

          Maynard nodded. ‘He’s got a problem, the county’s been called in, a guy named Spooner, Abe Spooner, but Reyner doesn’t trust him, reckons he’s a glory-hunter who’ll rail-road his way in there just to get one of his own guys in office as sheriff. Says his investigation will be geared around his own ends. Apparently he’s wanted a piece of Leyton falls for some time, so the judge wants an outsider to oversee the situation, someone who can report personally to him, said he wants someone he doesn’t have to trust.’

          ‘I thought Reyner retired after that Howler kid’s dad took a shotgun to his leg because he wasn’t happy about the handling of his son’s case?’

          ‘He did, but Leyton Falls has always been his town, so I guess he wants to look after it the best he can.’

          ‘So what’s happened down there?’

          ‘Three deaths, two shot in the body and head, the third just the head, one of them was the sheriff’s deputy. The sheriff also suffered a gunshot wound and a severe blow to the left side of the head which cracked his skull. Two guns were fired, one of them was the sheriff’s who’s currently in the County General under an induced coma and armed guard.’

          ‘Kinda messy.’

          ‘Tell me about it.’

          Maynard was silent for a spell, deep in thought. He paced behind his desk, looked out the window, turned. ‘Okay,’ he finally said. ‘But let’s see if Carter goes for the retirement plan first. If he doesn’t you can tell him Leyton Falls is his only other option. And when he fucks up that situation like he undoubtedly will, then it’ll be good-bye Carter.’ He sat at his desk, waved a limp hand. ‘You can go now.’

          Maynard walked out the office with the retirement plan in hand. He wasn’t happy with Wellbeck’s underhanded methods but felt sure Carter would see reason and accept the temporary transfer, especially after seeing the alternative.