Chapter 5: THE STING

"What'd you get when you ran the VIN?" Harwell asked when he approached Jackson. It was apparent by Jackson's expression that he resented Harwell.

Jackson held up his finger, indicating he wanted his superior to wait, removed his cap from his head, exposing his full head of dark curly hair and used his shoulder to wipe the sweat running down his cheek. Harwell's imposing height always made him feel like an ant looking up at the mighty grasshopper. He finally responded.

"It came back to a guy by the name of John Graham."

"Her husband, maybe?"

"We're checking that out now."

"Okay, keep me posted. I want to know the minute you have something." Harwell headed toward the Medical Examiner and stopped when he heard Jackson calling out to him. He turned around to see Jackson on his cell phone, who was motioning for Harwell to join him.

"Lieutenant," Jackson said, "my guys met with Graham, and he's not married. Graham said he was dropping his date off, left his vehicle double-parked with the engine running, and the woman ran down the street and jumped into his car."

"He left the engine running?" Harwell screeched. "Where did he leave his car double-parked?"

"West 87th."

"Oh, so I guess this bonehead figured high-class area, no one would take his car." Harwell looked bewildered. "Doesn't he know that's where the muggers and burglars go first?"

"I guess not, Lieutenant."

"Asshole," Harwell said with belligerence. "What I want to know is how he got through the city without plates on his car?" Harwell shook his head, "And what the fuck were our guys doing that they didn't see him?" He scuffed a hand over his face. "Do we know how long he's been driving the car that way?"

"The kid said he took possession of the vehicle yesterday. He went to the DMV to get it registered, received a pile of stuff from the clerk, including the placard, and then rushed home to shower for his date. He was running late, and it never occurred to him until later that he hadn't affixed the placard to the windshield. He figured he'd take care of it today."

Harwell said, perplexed. "How old is this bozo?"

"Eighteen."

"That figures. I hope the kid has a good job so he can pay the hefty fine the department is going to slap on him."

"I guess he's going to learn the hard way."

"Yeah. There's a lot of that going around." Harwell's hands went to his hips. "Did he report the car missing to the Auto Crime Unit?"

"Yes, they do have a record of the theft."

"What time was that?"

"I don't have the answer to that yet."

"What a jerk," Harwell said. "Just think," he said with a disgusted shake of his head, "this kid is old enough to vote. Pretty scary stuff if you ask me. What's interesting though, is that the kid knew enough to call to report his car missing, but wasn't the least bit worried about driving around without plates." He tossed his hands in the air and turned to leave, stopping mid-step. "Get Graham's fingerprints and his whereabouts. I want to know every place this kid went."

"With all due respect, sir. I have an excellent team of officers who know the procedures quite well."

"That's news to me," Harwell said over his shoulder. "You and I both know what some of these guys are like on the force. If they're not wasting time by talking to some babe, they're sitting around eating donuts and drinking coffee, or screwing some prostitute while on duty. And when they get done with that, they're performing illegal searches and screwing up our cases." Jackson's mouth clamped shut.

Harwell strolled down the path toward the medical examiner, enjoying the expression on Jackson's face after reminding him he hadn't forgotten.

__________

Sgt. Tip Jackson pounded his feet down the path toward his men, annoyed at himself for allowing Harwell to get to him. He resented the way his superior spoke to him, but he didn't have to like it...the man was his boss. Besides, he was thankful this job gave him the outlets he needed for the extra cash he used to support his gambling habit.

His pace quickened when he saw two divers in wet suits walking toward the river. "It's about time you guys got here. I only called you two hours ago."

The larger of the two divers cocked his head to the side, and in a thick Brooklyn accent shot back, full of sarcasm, "Gee, Sarge, we're sorry to keep you waiting."

Jackson assured himself pulling rank on this jerk wasn't worth the effort, especially since he'd just mouthed off to his superior officer. "I want you guys to do a thorough search. Whatever you can find."

The feisty one saluted him, "Tell me, Sarge, is there any other kind?" The guy didn't wait around long enough to hear Jackson's retort because he swiftly dove into the water, while the other diver walked further down to search a different area of the lake.

Suddenly realizing the sun was up and the helicopter was gone, Jackson was surprised he hadn't noticed it sooner. But then, he'd been so busy; he didn't have time to pay attention to such things. A member of his team approached and handed him a bottle of cold water. Jackson nodded a thank you and took a swig, allowing the cold water to linger on his tongue a while.

"Hey, am I going to see you later?" Rory asked.

"Absolutely."

"Thanks for the water."

"Six-thirty tonight, right?" Rory asked.

"Yes, sir."

Jackson rolled the cold bottle over his cheek to feel the coolness against his skin, wiped the moisture from his thick black mustache with his fingertips, then wiped his fingers on his pants. He removed the lid from his water and took another long swig, then checked his watch for the time and smiled, knowing his workday was almost over.

Excitement filled him just thinking about the big poker game he'd managed to get in on tonight...and tomorrow promised to be even better. Just the thought of the big race at Aqueduct sent a shiver through his body and caused his heart to race. Why he could almost visualize those horses running around that track, and his choice, Danny's Desire, was in the lead.