The Libran Investigator (part III)

I rushed up to the third. I rode up with Larry in the elevator

"You again?" He seemed surprised.

I was panting.

"Tired?"

"Oh, yeah. I was so focused on getting here soon and... I even forgot to have coffee. I left home without eating anything."

"And you also forgot to wash your face, right?"

Larry! You don't say those things!

But it was true. I left at half past six in the morning, stunned by the call and didn't even dress myself properly. After I went to see the body the first time, I just went back to the house and quickly changed clothes and went to the journal. I didn't even remember make-up, fixing my hair, nothing. Oh, jeez. I must've been all messy. After that comment, I felt bad. And I didn't even have a mirror in that damn elevator...

"Anyway. I'm glad you're here." Larry went on, this time in earnest "I just exchanged an idea with Howard at the DEA."

"Did you call the DEA?"

"Yes. I asked for an interview that I wanted to set up for you as soon as you finished with Meadow Park and he told me he'd be available after eleven, I mean... Not him in person, but the ones in charge of the case."

"The case's gonna be passed to the SAD."

"I know. It was part of why I called him. We want to put that kind of information into the article. It'll be good to see what both sides have to say."

"Sure."

The elevator arrived at its destiny.

Larry and I simultaneously look at the hand clock that hangs in the room where Harrison and the rest of the staff work. It was ten to ten.

"You eating something? Because you're gonna have to wait till eleven."

"I think that's what I'm gonna do. And then I'm going straight there."

I ate in the canteen which has a partnership with the Inquirer - and which is very expensive, by the way. You know... For an establishment that has a partnership. - Then I took a bus and went home to get dressed properly. I didn't do much. Just a basic foundation and an eyeliner and I also took the opportunity to put on a social gypsy, as it seemed more appropriate. By the time I saw it was almost noon! How did time pass so quickly?

I took the bus that passed closest to their department once again then ran there until I was in a panting state. I didn't want to miss the opportunity for a lunch time or anything like that on their part.

All for nothing, though. When I introduced myself as a journalist for the Inquirer, the lady told me to wait a moment and started talking to someone on the phone, you know... She went to the back counter so I wouldn't hear her, so I sat down and had to wait indefinitely.

After twenty minutes another girl who worked there told me Howard and the staff were busy and that they didn't have time to give interviews.

"This is ridiculous," I said, "we've already set the schedule. Larry talked to Howard himself on the phone."

"We're not aware of any scheduled interview, ma'am."

"What!?"

And now that! The energies leaving me behind again like that.

But no. Luckily for me, Howard himself showed up walking surrounded by two agents and some reporters from other newspapers who came after him with some hope in their faces.

Haven't I written about who Howard is yet? He's the head of the DEA department. He's a gray-haired gentleman with kind of an unfriendly face. But despite the face, he's usually not unfriendly, but he can become so depending on the situation so you never know... The other reporters were Vic from Morning News and a guy I didn't know. I think he worked at Sproustime.

I ignored the person who was talking to me, although that was rude - but let's face it, it was necessary - and then I went to him. The agents tried to set me behind.

"Howard? Remember me? Megan Mourne from the Daily Inquirer."

"Hi, Megan. I'm not doing interviews right now. I'm going to Silverbay to sort out this whole damn bureaucracy."

Thatt's okay. It didn't have to be exactly with him.

Who could spare a time in the place? I had a schedule...

"The guys are all there. Dan... Jabes... Go up and talk to them. You can climb up, Megan." Howard directed to one of the agents next to him, "let her up there."

I wouldn't want to talk to Jabes. He never says anything. He was a big, dark-skinned, bald, forty-year-old looker. By 'big guy,' though, I mean... Big on his stomach, not his size. And I'm being a little euphemistic here. I know it's not nice to talk about that kind of thing, but there's no other way to describe it. I mean, seriously... He even has trouble walking. He needs to sit still for a long time, you know... He can't stand. When he goes on business trips he buys himself two tickets... That sort of thing. All because of the belly.

And he's the one I saw downstairs, just as I was going upstairs. I was going up and he was coming down. For my happiness Dan was with him. Beth wasn't there at the time.

"Megan? You ok?" Dan asked. He knew I was the victim's neighbor.

"As far as possible," I answered, "So what's going on?"

"If you're expecting anything official, you're getting nothing out of here," Dan was answering as the three of us walked out, "Howard went to Silverbay to see if he could talk directly to the deputy to claim the case."

"I'd be happy just to know why the heck the case was transferred."

Jabes raised his arms shamelessly in an interrogative expression, as if saying "nobody knows for sure".

"That young redhead from the SAD spoke about a serial killer hypothesis. But if it was that, shouldn't it have been passed on to the homicides?"

"I for one am not aware of anything, Megan. All I'm hoping is that when you go interviewing tomorrow we'll be the ones with the case. Then we can answer something concrete." Dan said, "in the meantime... Why don't you ask the SAD directly? I mean... They're probably less busy now that Jim's been handled to the experts."

I crossed my armas and pondered:

"Yeah... I think I'm gonna end up doing that."

"When is Jim's funeral going to happen?"

"I... Don't know yet... I'll call you."

"Ok. And good luck. Don't work too much."

'Don't work too much'. It's a piece of advice. But given the circumstances... There was no way.

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It was more than half past twelve, so I had lunch nearby in what was supposed to be a snack bar, but honestly... They were just selling some greasy savoury snacks. I bought a pressed hot dog first. I thought the guy would do it on time, but he just took those ready... That tasted old. It didn't go down well. I'm not the drinking type for lunch, but I had to order a coffee there to go together.

"We don't have coffee anymore... All we got is what's in the fridge there, ma'am."

In the refrigerator there were soft drinks, pure water and beer. It had to be beer. Water wouldn't take the taste out of the dog, and I'm not gonna poison myself with soda.

After finishing the hot dog and beer I saw a salty wheat flour with chicken filling thing on the counter and thought it would be good to ask one of those to take that sausage rancid out of my throat once and for all. But it was worse... For that thing I needed three napkins, all of which got soaked in oil after the aftermath.

An old dog, oil and beer. What a lunch!

After that unfortunate episode of my morning I went to the SAD, which was relatively far away. Between the center and Glen Meadow. The place took up a whole quarter. It was completely surrounded by a high wall, and consisted of buildings in block shapes called... 'blocks...' Each of which had a function. The front block, which had five or six floors, was where the researchers did their bureaucratic work. You know... Where after the experts gather the clues in the scenes they come back to analyze, or to write documents and things like that.

Once inside the gate, I went straight to the main building and introduced myself as a journalist for the Daily Inquirer. As expected, the reception boy said they were not accepting interviews. Honestly... Being a journalist sucks sometimes...

I didn't give in. I asked who could provide me with information on why the case was transferred to the special cases division. That's what I wanted to know that day. Not only because I was curious about what they were covering up about Jim's death - and they were clearly covering something up - but also because I needed to write that on the article. And it had to be ready by the end of the afternoon. I was going to tell Larry that the murder ocurred, that the case was transferred from one department to another, I was going to say the reason, and I was going to say whatthe department now in charge thought about the case and what they were doing about it.

That would be the plan. Then the other updates I planned to write as they arrived in the following days.

That would have been enough, but no one was exactly cooperating that day.

The reception boy told me to go to the block at the back, after the courtyard behind the building I was in and talk to a guy named George... I did exactly that and found this George guy in the right place. George was a bit of a policeman, but still not a very high post, judging by the way he dressed. He was probably in charge of the vehicles. He told me whoever gave the final word about which department was in charge of what - that is, in cases where there was doubt - was the state police, whose office was located in Silverbay. Which was a surprise, I always thought each district was the focus of the municipal police only. Is that why Howard was going to Silverbay, then?

I asked who could tell me exactly what the special cases division was doing, since at least a brief explanation would be necessary for the readers - and also for me... I never really understood why there was one too many police divisions - and he said he was not allowed to answer, and for that I had to talk to the investigators.

But it turns out that when I went back to the SAD building, they didn't pay attention to me. They wouldn't even let me get on the elevator, because the staff was theoretically busy. They said if I wanted to know about the features of the SAD I should talk to Captain Harmon, who guess what: they said she was also preparing to travel to Silverbay at the time.

I called Beth to see if she knew anything about Howard, who had gone to Silverbay. It was about an hour and a half by car, and he had gone before lunch, so maybe she already knew something. I talked to her in the courtyard of the SAD, the one where the cars were staying and the tall old George was, who just wandered around without making his function very clear.

"Howard? No... He didn't say anything."

"He went to Silverbay to claim the case for the office, right?"

"That's what we're hoping."

"I didn't know the state police was in charge of that kind of thing."

"That's the thing, Meg. Neither did I. I mean... Until now."

"What? But don't you work in..."

"I do, but that's never happened before. That's why I think it's all very odd. And you know what else is odd?"

"Huh?"

"I wanted to go over Jim's today, you know... To... Well, um... I'm a cop, and I was related to him. So I wanted to go there. Then some SAD cops were closing the scene, as expected. But I was uniformed, wearing the badge, and everything"

"And they kicked you out?" I guessed.

"They did, Meg! And it's not their case yet" they're 'gonna' get transferred if everything goes the way they're saying, but it hasn't yet!"

"But what are all the staff waiting for? Oh, my God! Didn't they work with Jim and all... I mean... I'm sorry."

"I know... I know. I know. You're right... But that's the reason. They're locking us up. The department can't do nothing! It seems they're delaying everything to cover something up and they won't spitout what it is!"

"You know... I was thinking about putting all this in the paper."

"No, Meg! You're gonna get even more of a fight between the DEA and the SAD. Better not. Better... Let's leave it in the hands of whoever..."

"You too, Beth? Weren't we going to work on this together?"

"Of course! And we will. But I think it's best to let it sort itself out politically at least. I mean... Whichever department takes the case, we're gonna have to investigate on our own anyway, right? That was the idea to begin with."

Yes. That was the idea.

"Beth?"

"Spit."

"What is the special cases division for?"

"..."

"You also don't know?"

"I think that... When cases are too lage, like... A dangerous serial killer, something that threatens the whole city... Then it's their case, right?"

"But wouldn't that be FBI's?"

"I, uh... Listen... I have to go... You're at the SAD, yourself right? Why don't you go asking around?"

"I'm trying, but they don't have anyone available for interviewing."

"How crude! Well... Keep trying! They must be worried about the body and the forensics. Well, good luck. I really gotta go. Here's a mess as well. Kiss."

Beth dropped the call.

'Busy with the forensics?' That's it, I could try to see if I could get something on the forensics.

The forensics was also in the main building. I started trying to find the coroner because I wanted to hear from him that that bite was a hit-and-run. I was told that the coroner was in the C block, which was behind the parking lot. On the way, I found Vic from Morning News again. I'm not gonna transcribe the whole conversation, but what Vic passed on was:

"Don't even waste your time. He's dismissing all reporters and journalists and running from commentary."

I could've asked her if she got anything else, but I won't base an Inquirer article on what a competing newspaper says. I'd rather do the research myself.

I was at an impasse. The DEA would transfer me to Howard... Howard would transfer me to the DEA... The SAD would tell me to contact Captain Harmon, and she wouldn't take a call... No one from the SAD was available... I couldn't get into any crime scene.

If I went to Jim's, probably the same would happen. They kicked even Beth, who was on the force. Imagine someone like me.

Without having anything else to do, in one last sigh of hope, I took my breath and went decisively to the third floor of the main building, where the investigators were. If only I was lucky enough to find the redhead who first attended me.

And you know... As a Librian, I'm a lucky person. It's no accident that I'm a journalist for the Daily Inquirer. When I insist, I end up getting the interviews I want.

In the morning, before I left the crime scene in Meadow Park I had warned that redheaded girl that I would return in the afternoon after they dealt with the details for more info. It was afternoon and I needed the info, so I went straight to the third floor.

Once there, the secretary was a short boy and why not say cute, who talked to me attentively. Something about him didn't look very professional. He was probably an intern?

"Er... Hi?"

I'm not exactly one to comment on the job of the others, but... 'Hi?' Mr. Intern... You can do better than that.

"Good afternoon. I'm Megan Mourne from the Daily Inquirer, I had arranged an appointment with the miss detective... Investigator..." I couldn't remember her name at all. I'm terrible with names. But I was sure he'd fill the gap for me.

"Ah yes," He didn't fill it, "but we're not taking interviews. I mean... If this is about Sanford's case, we're keeping it temporarily confidential."

"Come again?"

"We've been instructed not to provide any information. That's all. Therefore we won't be able to help."

What do you mean we won't be able to? Just because no? What about the DEA? What about Jim's friends? What about me!? What about us? How far were these dirty cops gonna hide things about Jim's murder? That was unacceptable! I put on a defiant face and went right through it. I went to that Captain Harmon's office. I was hearing voices coming from there so I must've had someone important on the scene. Someone who knew something. I wasn't gonna take my foot off that building until I got something on that case.

"What is this about no one informing me about the...? What? Where is everyone here?"

Except for a tall, frowning policeman with a cigarette smell - and quite a cigarette smell - and a weird little girl who rushed past me there was nobody else there. I know it because when I got close to the room and glanced at the next hallway, everything was shut off and the doors were all locked. So it was just me, the secretary and that cigarette cop on the whole floor. Captain Harmon was probably absent.

"Good afternoon," I introduced myself for the smoking cop of bleak appearance, "I'm Megan Mourne of the Daily Inquirer. I was wondering if..."

"Are you blind? We are closing!" He cut me ruthlessly.

"Lieutenant..." The secretary intervened, trying to fix things up. That cop was the lieutenant. He was supposed to be in charge of the department. Or at least in charge of the case.

"I wanted..." I started again. This time the secretary himself interrupted:

"Madam, sorry, the concierge man must not have been warned, but as the lieutenant said, we are no longer in visiting hours."

"I...I'm not visitating! I'm from the newspaper! I told you I was coming in the morning and I had a scheduled time..." That whole thing was making me red. Even though I had no vision of myself, I felt like I was blushing on the outside.

"But we're closing"! That rude policeman spoke objectively once again, with a tone of voice as if that phrase decided everything.

"Listen... I was a friend of Jim Sanford! He kept in touch with all the staff of the Daily Inquirer. I came too because maybe I can help with some important information!"

He looked me in the face and said with the utmost disdain:

"If the time I want some information from you ever arrives... I'll go after it! For now leave your name with my secretary."

Can you believe something like that!? What kind of lieutenant treats citizens that way!? What about someone who had an appointment? Someone who's doing their job? Someone who knew the victim personally?

"Hey. Listen here you... Ogor"! I don't know who you think you are, but I had to put up with so much to get here! Everyone keeps throwing responsibility on others and sending them to and fro. As far as I know Jim is part of the DEA and I also know all of a sudden you guys show up and ... 'steal' the case for yourselves, just like what happened with Gerald McMiller! Aand on top of that you simply refuse to give any kind. interview... And now that I arrive everything is getting closed? I... I demand an explanation!"

They both stared at me astounded, without knowing what to say.

"Say... What exactly is going on here?"

"Talk to my secretary." That's all the ogre cop could say before he left the room and left me standing there, practically alone.

Alone with the secretary. It was just me and the secretary.

He excused himself and closed the door behind me. Even after that embarrassing frankness on my part. It was going to end that way. Just like that. Nobody was really gonna tell me anything.

"Err..."

"As you saw. We're closing. Excuse the lieutenant. He was a little thick, that's because there's a lot going on today... And also the rest of the week. It's one of those cases where everything happens at once and we don't know how to take action. First McMiller, then Cooper... Now this Sanford guy. Er... I'm sorry. He was a friend of yours, wasn't he?"

"Er... Yes. He was a coworker."

"Anyway, like I said: secrecy was requested so... It's going to take us a while to release the information to the press. Maybe in the next few days."

He went to his desk and started sorting some papers; getting ready to leave. That was a big table, by the way. A giant table in a giant reception room. And the room didn't have much besides the table

I had no choice but to leave the place before him. And then I went back to the Inquirer. Practically with no news. Except for the ones I'd just heard: the secretary casually mentioned McMiller, a guy named Cooper and Sanford as being part of the same case. Curious... I was going to pass that information onto Beth when I got back home.

I kept repeating to myself, so I wouldn't mess up the names: McMiller... Cooper... McMiller... Cooper.

As for the newspaper article, that afternoon I only wrote how the body was found in Meadow Park and that the police were investigating. We ended up not asking the question of changing the department because we didn't have the reason nor did we know whether it would stay that way or not. As the article turned out to be too small we ended up putting another one on the cover, and that was passed for the news session. It didn't come out as expected, but we finished before the deadline.