Written by k
Comments to [email protected]
Submitted on 8-15-01
Category: C
Keywords: Bayliss, Lewis, and gang
Rated: PG 13
 

Sirens roared with flashing lights through the intersections as passing cars eased to a halt. Patrol cars, ambulances and the ME wagon were soon closing in on a small quiet street that rarely saw such activity. Following soon behind was a white Cavalier whose silent beating light warned those they approached to get out of the way.

Darkness slowly covered the stately 2 story homes that were scattered on generous lots along the wooded neighborhood. They stood tall against the fences and leaf canopies that maintained each owner’s privacy. The wealth of the neighborhood could be measured in Mozart’s symphonies that streamed from the upper floor balconies in the summer, the aroma of salmon pate or prime rib during weekend get togethers, and the steady sound of footsteps on the upward ladder of opportunity. A sense of seclusion brought a sense of safety to the residents in this upper class community, sheltered from the real world where they made their living. This was where lawyers and judges lived, along with doctors and the fortunate businessmen that had been able to hit it large. Old money or new money was all of equal value in this quaint neighborhood. But there was no mistake who had earned their standing in Dun and Bradstreet, and who had been born into it.

By the time the Cavalier pulled up to the curve, Julianna Cox was leaning over the dead remains slumped on the drive. Her dark hair was slightly tousled from an already long day. She was pretty by most standards, but deep dark eyes rarely gave up what she was feeling.

“Workin’ late tonight, Julie C?” Meldrick Lewis asked as he surveyed the scene then flashed a half-cocked smile her way.

“Not exactly what I had in mind for the evening,” she answered dryly without looking up. “Another couple of minutes and I’d have been taxiing down the runway,” she eyed one of the uniforms standing near by as if he were the one that paged her.

Tim Bayliss cast his eyes around the neighborhood, a light breeze signaling the return of spring. “Oh yeah? You going on vacation, Dr. Cox?”

“Was,” she answered flatly as she refocused on the body. “But the way it looks I’ll be spending the weekend in Charm City after all.”

“I hear the Travel Channel’s pretty interestin’,” Lewis quipped to her stare. His attempt at levity was of little consolation to the otherwise non-ending stream of cadavers that made their way into her morgue everyday.

“Anything you can tell us?” Bayliss asked as he stood over her and the body.

“Besides the fact that I’ve worked 2 and a half months without a day off,” she pushed her hair away from her face with the back of her gloved hand, “and this gentleman on the other hand should have stayed at the office?” Pointing to the man’s skull she outlined the bullet’s path. “It looks like a small caliber, entered just below the left ear exiting through the right orbit…….”

Lewis wrinkled his brow and Cox picked up on it.

“Eyesocket,” she explained. “He didn’t have a chance, dead before he hit the pavement I’d guess.”

“Yeah, ok,” Lewis took on a more serious tone, “so small caliber weapon, probably aimed from the curb, maybe closer?” he thought out loud. “ We got any ID? Any wits?”

The patrol officer stepped forward. “The one witness is in the house. Said she went out to dinner with the vic and they came back here for a drink. He lived here.”

“Folks just don’t drop into bars for nightcaps anymore,” Lewis shrugged as he passed an eye towards Bayliss, “That must be our problem, hunh? Must be a sign of the times……I blame cable TV.” Turning towards the officer, he asked. “You get a name?”

“Hughes. Jeremy Hughes,” the officer responded.

Lewis cast an eye around the immediate scene then the surrounding perimeter. “Yeah, so Mr. Hughes here was a few steps shy of his front porch when someone comes around and pops him a couple of times……..” he raised his hand and gestured as if he was pulling a trigger. “Not a soul around, hunh, ‘cept for the lady friend?”

“No, sir,” the uniformed officer replied.

“Most people around here be out on the town, don’t ya think……Friday night and all,” Lewis thought out loud as he glanced towards Bayliss. “Whatdya say, we go talk to the wit?” Meldrick shrugged. “Then we split up and work the street just before they all tuck themselves in for the night.”

“When’s the last time we got a call this side of town?” Bayliss replied, aware of the rarity of the situation, as well as the high profile attention the case would be getting.

“We’ll be working all weekend,” Meldrick answered as they paced side by side up the driveway passing the flowering Dogwoods and low-lying ground cover.

“Random shootings don’t happen that randomly around this neighborhood,” Bayliss countered as they approached the house matching Lewis step for step.

“Good point,” Lewis glanced around the quiet surroundings, his finger pointing towards Bayliss for emphasis.

“Not your usual crime scene scenario. See anyone you recognize hanging around?” Tim asked, as he thought about the countless crime scenes where small crowds gathered around. Crime scenes that were in the heart of the high crime districts. “Maybe an old suspect or two from some other case, maybe someone out on parole, maybe someone brought in on another matter for questioning?”

“Nope,” Lewis continued the thought, “Don’t look to be a felon within a 5 mile radius.” He shuffled up the steps following close behind Tim. “Neighborhood like this, looks to me like everyone keeps to themselves.” Shaking his finger towards his partner, he added, “You ask me, things be better that way most of the time.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that when we work the street,” Bayliss responded as he knocked then entered the house. Catching a glimpse of the witness, Tim took a deep breath then eyed Meldrick. “Damn.”

Lewis followed Bayliss eyes and they lit on the woman. “Damn is right. Someone better call Gee.”

“Judge Aandahl,” Tim cocked his head towards her, bending slightly in her direction. “Are you all right?”

“Detective Bayliss,” she sighed towards Tim then looked towards Lewis. “Yes, yes I’m fine.”
 
 
 
 
 
 

After talking with Susan Aandahl, Lewis and Bayliss each took one side of the street, moving from one 2-story mansion to another as if they were on a springtime stroll. Their early prediction was right. It wasn’t that the neighbors didn’t care. It was just that they each were intently involved in their own business The closest of neighbors was vacationing in southern Florida, Aruba, or maybe Europe; no one seemed to know for sure, but they did seem to know they hadn’t been around for weeks. All that the detectives got from the canvass was a couple of hours of overtime, aching feet, and 4 to 5 shots behind on the cocktail hour.

As they met up with each other at the far end of the street and turned back towards the Cavalier, Lieutenant Giardello’s tall bulky body loomed in the dark. “This ain’t gona look good,” Lewis mouthed towards Bayliss as they narrowed the distance towards him. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Yep, I think so,” Bayliss answered.

“I hate when that happens,” Meldrick huffed with a sniff as his dark eyes narrowed. “One of us bound to be right.”

“Yeah,” Bayliss watched Gee pace back and forth waiting for them, “looks like a Red Ball weekend.”

Giardello’s booming voice echoed in the dark, disturbing the quiet atmosphere and peace and serenity around them. “Detectives Bayliss, Lewis, talk to me.”

Lewis shifted towards his lieutenant, as Bayliss ran his hand down his face. He was already wary with the anticipation of the work ahead of them. “Judge Aandahl joined Dr. Hughes for dinner. A celebration of sorts, thirty years with John Hopkins law school, a few weeks from retirement. They had dinner, drinks at Howards, left after dessert. Came here for a nightcap. Before she knew it he was lying on the ground.”

Giardello had stopped pacing and stood in front of them, concern edged in his voice. Directing his question first to Bayliss then to Lewis he went on, “She see anyone, anything?”

Bayliss shrugged as he looked around. “It was dark…..these neighborhoods aren’t well-lit, a small price to pay to maintain it’s natural beauty.”

With a degree of patience they didn’t expect, Gee prompted further, although it was clear he was after some positive news. “Go on.”

Lewis picked up from there. “So, she said they pulled up and she saw a car traveling slow from around the corner.”

“It looked like someone was waiting for them?” Giardello anticipated the next point.

“So it seems,” Bayliss responded.

“And?” there was now a hint of impatience in his voice as he eyed first Tim then Meldrick.

“Judge Aandahl and Hughes got out, the car stopped and someone fired a couple of rounds from the driver’s side,” Tim filled him in on the remaining details.

“So,” Giardello added, “a drive by…..she see the shooter? She get a make of the car?”

“It was dark, Gee,” Lewis answered, “but she thinks it was a sports vehicle, dark in the color.”

Giardello looked at his watch then nodded towards a uniform, “See that Judge Aandahl gets home safely.”

“Yes sir,” the officer replied in awe of the upper ranks that stood before him.

“And post someone in front of her house,” he ordered further for added security.

The few remaining patrol cars began to disperse as Bayliss thought the inevitable. “You know Gee, it makes you wonder who’s the likely target here? A sitting judge or a law professor who just got his walking papers?”

Lewis shook his head, “So, we’re thinking suspects Gee.”

“Yeah, Gee, possible suspects, hmm?” Bayliss eyed Giardello then Lewis. “A long list of vindictive felons, and a course, McPhee Broadman.”

“We’re gona need extra manpower on this one,” Lewis shrugged.

“I called Kay on the way over,” Giardello answered, already a step ahead, which was not a surprise to either of them.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Ed Danvers arrived home late from BWI. It was nearly 1 a.m. when he dragged his ass up the stairs to bed. He had arranged to arrive home early in the evening so he could join his brother for dinner, but his flight was delayed for mechanical reasons. He was tired, hungry, annoyed and he wanted nothing more then to fall into bed. In a matter of minutes, he was counting on being dead to the world in a sound sleep. Drifting off was easy, but he was still restless from the trip and tossed and turned most of the night. By 4:30 he decided not to look at the clock again until daylight. The next thing he was aware of was the buzz of the doorbell. He tried to ignore its persistent tone and rolled over, but before long it was clear it wasn’t going away.

Danvers eyes settled on his two early morning visitors, as he glimpsed out the peephole in the door. Although he wasn’t fully awake, he was with it enough to suspect the news would not be good. The urgency of their call was apparent from the early morning hour. He had traipsed to the front door clad only in his slippers and a pair of long plaid pajama bottoms, not even taking time to get dressed.

“Detectives,” he greeted them both with a quiet huff, as the door swung open with a crisp blast of morning air. “Enter at your own risk,” he gestured with an outstretched hand. “I haven’t had a cup of coffee, a shower or a good nights sleep. So how’s your day going?”

Lewis handed him a cup tightly capped from the Grind, as he pulled off his hat. “Freshly brewed. Thought it was the least we could do, seeings as it’s the crack of daylight.”

Tim lightened the moment, “We brought you a donut, but Lewis ate it on the way.”

“Yeah, well you’re the one that said he don’t like cruellers,” Lewis answered defensively. “I knew we shoulda gone with the Danish.”

“Cold coffee and no pastry….just like a day at the office,” Danvers replied as he took a sip of the tepid liquid. “So, it’s Saturday morning, why are we talking about this?” he brought the focus to their visit.

“You see the news last night?” Bayliss asked pointedly. He gathered he hadn’t by his earlier remark.

“I got in late,” he replied, “didn’t even turn on the TV.”

“There was a drive by …….gentleman by the name of Jeremy Hughes over on Liberty,” Lewis filled him in on the basics.

Danvers face went pale, his statement somber and distressed. “Professor Hughes is dead?”

Lewis nodded at the inevitable. “Fraid so.” He paused as the reality of it sank in then continued. “Not your usual high crime district neither……especially for shootings, I mean, they get a couple of police calls now and again, maybe a B & E, maybe a little domestic spat…..but last time they had a killing there was……..”

He shrugged as Bayliss sighed and finished the sentence. “We can’t remember when…..”

Lewis and Bayliss followed Danvers into the living room. It was evident the news had disturbed him, judging from his somber tone. “Professor Hughes was exemplary. He was one of the finest law professors I know……students were scrambling to get into his classes……” Ed shook his head in anger and disbelief as the reality set in, “He was targeted?”

Lewis waved his head and rolled his shoulders, not sure of the answer himself. “Maybe…..maybe not…..he was escorting the honorable Judge Aandahl in for a nightcap.”

Clearly the news upset Danvers even further as he ran his hand down his face. “Judge Aandahl was with him? Is she alright?”

“She’s shook, but no worse for the wear…..walked away unscathed ‘cept for a few little abrasions when she ducked to the pavement,” Meldrick reassured him.

“The thing is,” Bayliss interjected, “we’re thinking the shooter was most likely after Judge Aandahl. Like you said, Hughes was exemplary…….I mean, we’ll check it out from both sides, but……….” the words trailed off.

“Judge Aandahl is the odds on favorite,” Ed finished the thought.

Lewis and Bayliss nodded.

He continued. “Which means…….I’m working the weekend.”

“We wouldn’t ask you,” Tim sympathized with Danvers. Ed finished the thought. “If you weren’t working yourselves.”

“Exactly,” Tim and Meldrick answered in unison.

“I’ll have a list to you this afternoon….we’re talking convicted felons that she presided over and were recently paroled? Grudge cases that have the potential for a lethal outcome? And maybe a lead or two on cases she was involved in that never made it to court,” he outlined the scenerio.

“That oughta give us a start,” Lewis replied as the two detectives made it towards the door.
 
 
 
 
 
 

Lieutenant Giardello stepped forward in front of his detectives as his booming voice commanded attention. The smell of freshly brewed coffee permeated the air, although Pembleton was the only one who had helped himself to a cup. The others had pulled themselves from their beds and stopped for a latte from the Grind on the way in.

“There’s 52 Saturdays in a year…….” Giardello said as he paced in front of them, “and over 300 murders to go along with that. Too high of a percentage of them go unsolved annually……..we could work every day of the week at full speed and still never get ahead of the game.” So much for the obvious, he thought. “But that’s neither here nor there. If you tuned into the news late last night, even before Sergeant Howard’s call, you knew you’d be summoned this morning. I’ve got a uniform officer posted in front of Judge Aandahl’s house as we speak. They’ll be one assigned to her around the clock until we close this case. And the bosses have already reminded me that the clock is ticking. Bayliss,” he pointed to him, “bring us up to speed.”

Tim glanced around the room then spoke. “Yeah, well, that’s right,” Bayliss joined Gee in front of the group. “Judge Aandahl had just arrived last night at the home of Jeremy Hughes, a law professor at Hopkins U with 30 years tenure and days away from his cushy pension. A dark SUV appeared to be waiting around the corner and eased it’s way towards them just as they were exiting their vehicle. Two shots rang out…..bang, bang,” Tim reiterated the scene gesturing with his hand then continued, “one struck the professor while the second one just missed Judge Aandahl. We’ll have the crime scene techs over there again this morning looking for the casings and the 2nd bullet. Danvers will have a list of paroled felons and other possible suspects tied to Aandahl through the legal system by early afternoon. Our initial canvass was a bust. According to early reports, Professor Hughes it seems was all above board. We figure the hit was a misfire and was likely meant for Aandahl.”

“And you’re basing that on what?” Giardello asked as he paced in front of Bayliss drawing the other detectives attention his way. He knew the answer to the question, but wanted the others to hear the theory.

Lewis crossed his arms, but stood up from the desk he was leaning against. “We ran a preliminary check, Gee. The man ain’t had no demerits against him……not so much as a parking ticket. But like we said last night, we gotta look at all the angles.”

“Ok,” Giardello concurred, “let’s move on this. I want to be able to assure Barnfather we’re making progress and it’s the least we can do for the judge.”

When the situation called for it, no team of detectives was better suited to search for the truth. Gee knew it, they knew, and even Barnfather knew it. But it never hurt to remind them that no matter how good or how thorough they were, the brass would be on their ass until the work was done.

Bayliss stood tall beside Giardello as he laid out the plan. “Mike, Munch, you take the Hughes angle, search out anything that could be construed as a motive. Kay, Frank, start on the phones, see what tips have come in…..and……and see if you can track down that punkass son of Aandahl’s…..then go over with Danvers what he brings in. Lewis and I will follow up at the scene, talk to the judge again and see if we can wrap any loose ends together. We’ll reconvene this afternoon and see what we got. Anything else?” He asked as the detectives each put into motion their assignments.

“Yeah,” Lewis answered as he reached for his trenchcoat laying over his deskchair. “You and me got dibs on Cheeks, hunh? Feels to me like we got some unfinished biz……..”
 
 
 
 
 
 

“So, did you have plans today?” Kellerman glanced towards John Munch mindlessly, as he eased to a stop when the light turned red.

“Am I married?” Munch countered with a question of his own.

“Married?” the fair-haired detective repeated the question, his brows narrowed slightly as he contemplated how getting called in had changed his. Reaching for a cigarette in his pocket, he waited patiently for the dash lighter to pop out then inhaled deeply. “No. Why?”

Munch restated his query, a hint of annoyance in his remark. “Am I married, attached, or otherwise spoken for?”

“No, no, “ Kellerman went through each of the questions methodically, “and no.”

“My point exactly,” John shifted in his seat. “You asked me if I had plans…….and I’m telling you- I’m not married, ergo my life is my own…..its filled with one moment of spontaneity after another……… no wife, no strife, no plans.”

Kellerman took a puff savoring the moment, “Yeah, well, I had to cancel a charter this morning. I mean I’d do it in a heartbeat for Judge Aandahl.”

“Now there’s a woman,” John’s face brightened as he considered her.

“She’s fair minded,” Mike nodded agreeably, ignoring the insinuation about her looks. Referring back to John’s earlier point he went on. “Why do women do that anyway?”

“What?” he asked then continued without waiting for Mike’s response. “Lose their impulsivity, their spur of the moment, devil-may-care, foolhardy unpredictability?”

“Yeah,” Kellerman shrugged at his answer. He was used to Munch overstating most of his points and had tuned him out half-way through his remark. “More or less.”

“Trust me, they don’t, they just want us to lose ours,” Munch smirked then glanced up the street at a couple of women walking into a bakery.

Kellerman challenged the remark as much to kill time as to argue the issue. “Oh, so you’re saying all women want to do is control us, because I’ve gone out with a lot of women, John and I don’t think they’re all like th….…..”

Munch interrupted, “My first wife, Gwyn, was a Dominatrix.”

An image came to mind as Mike’s face lit up with a hint of a smile. Smoke swirled around his translucent eyes as the tip of his cigarette bobbed up and down with each word. “Black leather, boots, maybe one of those skimpy halter things?” He inhaled deeply as he finished the query.

“Yeah………..,” Munch lowered his chin signaling the importance of what he was about to say, “nothing like that. It started out with little things, like the wedding. She had to have her way on everything, …before you know it, you’re a few thousand dollars lighter and the honeymoon is over. It’s downhill from there- you want to go out, she wants to stay in; you want a quiet evening at home and you’re noshing with her mother; your usual quiet Monday nights rooting for the Colts……”

It was Mike’s turn to interrupt, “They left town.”

“My point is you’re tuned into the Movie of the Week,” Munch finished his thought with a wayward glance.

“You really do have a hard time giving in to women, don’t you John?” Mike took one last drag on his cigarette and smashed it out into the ashtray. Waiting for a clearing, he switched lanes then slowed for a turn nearing their destination.

“You give in, you give up….,” John explained. “Take Gwyn.”

Kellerman’s blue eyes narrowed with a hint of understanding, “Gwyn? You’re back to Gwyn? How long has it been John and you haven’t let it go?”

Munch pointed his finger as the Cavalier pulled up to the curb, “That’s it.”

“Yep, that’s it,” Kellerman replied, as he grabbed the keys and exited the car eyeing the rowhouse. “2 4 1. Let’s go.”

“No, no,” Munch continued as he stepped out of the Cavalier and shut the door with a solid slam. “All these years of ill-fated relationships, of gnawing guilt and disappointment, of one failed partnership after another, it all comes back to Gwyn. I should have seen it, my……my shrink, my rebbe, they both should have seen it……”

Mike jogged up the stoop as he glanced towards John who was close behind. His eyes narrowed as he eyed Munch with a half serious glint in his eye. “She did all that, John,” he cocked his head further, “……without any leather?”
 
 
 
 
 
 

Kay Howard threw the small stack of pink slips on top of Pembleton’s desk as Frank slid the phone back into the cradle. “Nothing to even rundown,” she mumbled.

“A case like this, you don’t expect the killer to come forth without a little police investigation,” Pembleton recited flatly. “That was Danvers, he’ll be here at 1:30.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a few hours of police investigation for you, hmm?” she answered with a smirk. He didn’t respond, but it was worth it just the same. “I’ll call the headmaster at McPhee’s prep school.”

“Larchfield,” Frank stated, sure of the name from the times he’d talked to Bayliss about the case.

“Yeah,” Kay replied. “We’ll see where they sent his transcripts and try to track him down before Danvers gets here.”

“We could call Aandahl,” Frank added his two cents. “She’s bound to be sending in tuition payments, paying living expenses, car loans, even if they aren’t on speaking terms.”

“Let’s not tip her off just yet,” Kay shook off the suggestion. “She’s presided over enough homicide cases,” she thought outloud, “she’ll know what we’re thinking.”
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

“Mrs. Hughes, Mike Kellerman, Baltimore City Police Homicide Unit,” he explained to the dry eyed, but obviously shaken woman. “And this is Detective Munch.”

“Yes, of course,” she answered flatly acknowledging the reason for the visit. She had already led them into the living room of her 2-story row house, but none of them had sat down. “You’re here about Jeremy.”

“Yes, Ma’am, we’re sorry,” Mike nodded then waited for her to gather her thoughts before going on.

“We were divorced for nearly 10 years,” she informed them as she slid onto the sofa. Both detectives followed her cue and sat down, as well. “It was for the best, but that doesn’t mean I’m not sorry about what’s happened. Just days away from retirement…..”

“We’re interested in following up on ideas you might have, any leads, anyone you think of that could have been involved,” Mike continued solemnly, aware of the impact it seemed to be having on her.

“I’ve given it some thought, of course, before you even asked,” Mrs. Hughes replied sadly.

“And,” Munch prompted her further, his emphatic glance as much a cue as his verbal remark.

“I’ve come up with nothing,” she answered with a sigh, obviously disturbed that she hadn’t.

“Yeah,” Munch added flatly, “so have we.”

A moment passed in silence. “If there’s anything at all, anything that you can think of, no matter how remote, that might help us in our investigation…….,” Mike reiterated slowly, “it could mean the difference between finding the killer or not……….”

She picked up from there. “Jeremy was a good man.”

“So we’ve heard,” John nodded.

She explained further. “We……we were divorced, but we remained friends……..I wanted to travel, to work……he wanted me to just stay home and raise the kids,” Mrs. Hughes sighed at the reality that had separated them.

Munch interrupted, “How old are your children, Ma’am?”

She smiled warmly. “We have 2 …….they’ll both be flying in this afternoon. Joe is at Boston U- studying law…..Josie is married with a little one.”

“There was nothing troubling that you’re aware of, no unusual dealings of any sort?” Mike asked pointedly, attempting to stir up some info she hadn’t considered. “Anything you can think of that could help?”

“Like I said,” she took a deep breath, “there’s been no trouble that I’m aware of.” Her eyes became tearful, distant as she continued. “We’ve been happily divorced for a number of years. It was quite amicable……… we just both wanted to live our own lives.”

The conversation offered nothing more then to reinforce the general impression they’d already had about Hughes. Within a short time, Mike eyed Munch, both acutely aware that the interview was going nowhere. Wrapping it up with the ex-Mrs. Hughes, they thanked her before heading back to the Cavalier. “There’s a lot to be said for that,” Munch uttered as they approached the car.

“Yeah? What’s that?” Kellerman asked, as he slid into the driver’s seat.

“Happily…… divorced……,” Munch’s tone matched his acerbic statement as he slid in beside Mike and slammed the door.
 
 
 
 
 
 

A light mist was falling leaving the sidewalk damp underfoot. By the time Bayliss and Lewis arrived at Liberty Circle, three crime scene techs were scouring the area. They had been at it for over an hour and had located the bullet that had just missed Judge Aandahl. It had struck the lantern pole then ricocheted onto the grass. It looked to be a clean bullet and would be easily matched with a weapon if one was located. One of the techs had walked around the entire block, paying close attention to the curb for any cigarette butts or other litter, as well as any other evidence that might have been left behind.

Bayliss greeted the one tech he recognized. “How’s it going?”

“Fine sir,” he replied as he lifted a clear plastic bag with the bullet.

“Good work,” Bayliss acknowledged the effort. Lewis eyed him and added, “Now how ‘bout finding us the gun, hunh?”

“You got anything else?” Tim asked hopefully.

“Not yet, sir,” the tech answered. “But we’ll let you know.”

The rain started to drizzle harder as Tim’s hair dampened and clung closer to his face. The day was getting drearier as each hour passed.
 
 
 
 
 
 

“C’mon, Frank, take a ride with me,” Kay slipped her jacket over her button-down shirt, as she turned a half step motioning for him to follow.

“You found him?” Frank replied as he grabbed his coat off the rack.

“He’s got a little place in Canton,” Kay paced towards the door. “I figure with any luck, we’ll get there before he rolls out of bed.”

Raindrops pelted the windshield of the Cavalier as the steady swish swish of the blades pushed back and forth against the glass. By the time they arrived at the row house the rain had turned even harder. Kay and Frank exited the vehicle and paced quickly up the stoop at the row house. “Looks like you’d have had to cancel that picnic today anyway, hmm?” Kay uttered as she rang the bell.

“Livvy like’s playing in the rain,” Frank answered flatly as he shook the water off his fedora then placed it back on top of his head.

“Well, yeah,” Kay replied as she buzzed the buzzer again. “Kids, they figure you can just put on a rainslicker and pack up and go.”

Frank interjected. “I’d much rather deal with Livvy when there’s a change of plans, even at the last minute,” he replied soberly. “Mary on the other hand……”

The door swung open and interrupted Frank’s rant. In the doorway stood a young man clearly irritated by their visit. He had just climbed out of bed and slid into a pair of jeans without bothering to put on a shirt. Frank eyed him. “McPhee? McPhee Broadman?”

“Yeah,” he stood leaning hard into the doorjamb. He had outgrown his young schoolboy appearance, although his prep school upbringing was still noteworthy. Brown hair hung loosely around his fuller face with just a hint of stubble. “You Jehovah’s are free to believe what you want, but please…..don’t bother me. I don’t have time,” he answered as he began to close the door. Frank held out his hand and prevented the door from shutting.

“I studied under the Jesuits,” Frank replied with a snort, “but that’s another matter.”

“Then what do you want?” he returned the snort. “I’m sure I can’t help….”

“Oh, but we think you can,” Kay replied as she flashed her badge. “Sergeant Howard, Baltimore Homicide. Surprised to see us?”

Not waiting for an answer, Frank asked. “You talk to your mother last night?” He spoke in a monotone that always commanded attention. “See the news?”

McPhee shrugged. “Yeah, I heard. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It happens. Besides it doesn’t really concern me.”

Kay smiled smugly. “Yeah, now why is it that we think it does, hmm?”

Frank leveled with him in a way that begged to challenge him. McPhee’s name had come up more then once when he and Bayliss talked about the pitfalls of justice. “We’re going to need you to take a little ride with us……to come downtown to answer some questions.”

“Now?” McPhee rolled his shoulders, seemingly unaffected by the request. “I’m not even dressed.”

“We’ll wait,” Kay eyed him with a sense of authority. “And make it something comfortable, hmm. We might be all day.”
 
 
 
 
 
 

“Good afternoon, detectives,” Ed Danvers sighed heavily as he sat his brief case down on top of Howard’s desk then popped open the latch. He was still on edge from his late night flight. Then to be awakened with the disheartening news had made it even worse. “As promised, your list from A to Z, convicted or otherwise.”

Kay smiled, subduing her statement ever so slightly. “Alphabetical order, you’re too good to us Danvers.”

“Yeah, well, if I was that good to you, I’d already have it narrowed down to the top ten……,” he eyed her without a smile, although his eyes shared the affection. “If the shooting is related to a convicted felon or anything pending legally, he’ll be here.”

Pembleton ruffled through the pages. “If not, whatdya bet, we nail a felon or two on other charges? We’re bound to run into a few parole violators…….”

“So, all’s not wasted, that makes me feel better already,” Danvers shrugged sarcastically as he mumbled his response to himself, his tone as flat as Frank’s. Eyeing Kay then Frank he explained further. “I spoke to Susan. We went through it all together and marked the ones to check out first,” he answered dryly as he closed his brief case with a snap.

“Thanks, Ed,” Kay smiled with a hint of appreciation. “Sure you don’t want to stick around? You know, you never know what we might turn up.”

Danvers didn’t respond directly. “Just let me know when you’re ready to press charges. You know how to find me.”

“Yeah, if only the killer was just as easy ……,” she smiled wryly.

There were 14 pages of names, each with a different number of suspects listed. Small red marks weaved through the lists like a connect-the-dot puzzle. The list gave the felon’s name, the last known residence, specific conviction information, the place of incarceration, the date of release or a ‘pending’ notation indicating they were out on bond or the conviction was not resolved as yet. Judge Aandahl was listed as the presiding judge in the column on the right.

“Well, where do you want to start?” Kay asked as she reached for a couple of the loose sheets.

Frank eyed her half-seriously. “At the end. That’s where you stop, right…..at the end, when you find what you’re looking for.”
 
 
 
 
 
 

Tim Bayliss stood staring at the board pinching his chin deep in thought. His eyes were focused on Hughes name, but what he saw was Buchanan. Marshall Buchanan, the 15 year old black kid that ended up dead at Larchfield Preparatory School three and a half years earlier. He and Lewis had worked the case. They had ID’d the person responsible for the killing. They had him right in their hands, but he was never brought to justice thanks to some minor loopholes in the system and his mother, Judge Susan Aandhal. Tim had fretted over the Buchanan case. But then, whenever a kid was dead he fretted. He hadn’t wanted to let it go, but justice would have it no other way. Reluctantly, he had moved on, because in Baltimore there was always another reason to. Frank had told him he shouldn’t fret so much about things he couldn’t change, that he should focus on the new cases. But Frank didn’t understand. It was important not to forget. To forget was to give up.

“You ready?” Lewis asked as he breezed towards Bayliss, pausing in front of the board.

“Ready?” Tim replied as he followed close behind. “I couldn’t be any more ready.”

“Yeah, well, Cheeks ain’t got Judge Moms sitting behind the glass watching this time,” Lewis answered as he paced along side Tim towards the Box.

“Yeah, well, if he’s guilty this time, even the good judge isn’t going to save his sorry ass,” Tim uttered as he paused and eyed Lewis then pushed open the door.

“Well, well, well, lookey here, if it ain’t Cheeks,” Meldrick smiled smuggly towards McPhee who sat casually behind the rectangular table. “Long time no see. You look like you grew up to be a fine young man after all, didn't he Detective Bayliss?” he ribbed him as he nodded towards Tim.

“You brought me all the way here to tell me that?” McPhee shifted in his chair as he reached for a cigarette and a pack of matches. He didn’t light the cigarette, but folded back the matchpack and played with the double row of matches.

Lewis reached for the matches and pulled it out of his hand, “Careful now, it’s not a good idea to play with matches, you don’t wanna get burned. You still lightin’ fires?” he asked without waiting for an answer. As he shifted closer and leaned onto the table towering over him, he pointed towards the one-way glass mirror. “Take a look, McPhee, your moms ain’t no where in sight.”

McPhee remained cool and unaffected by the ribbing. “You don’t have anything on me because there’s nothing on me to have.”

Bayliss leaned towards McPhee well within his personal space, a self-assured smile easing across his face. “Yeah, well,” he recited slowly and methodically in a hum, “McPhee, McFie, McFoe, McFum…… I smell blood……”

Lewis chuckled casually. “See there, Cheeks, you’re still getting into mischief ain’t ya?” He looked towards Bayliss then focused back at McPhee as he shook his head. “With all your college knowledge…..you’d have thought you’d have outgrown that, at least.”
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Munch led the way up the weathered pavement to the clubhouse where he and Kellerman were meeting Dean Summers. They had tracked him down there where he was hanging out waiting to tee off after the rain stopped. As head of the law school for the past 12 years, Summers wanted to do all that he could to help with the investigation. Hughes was one of their strongest professors. It wasn’t unusual for his students to come back years later, just to stay in touch. Most were in prestigious positions that warranted respect. Some worked for the state’s attorney’s office, others large lawfirms, and still others had taken posts with the courts. Some even had rankings in government positions in Washington.

“Dean Summers,” Kellerman shoved his badge back in his pocket as he outlined the reason for their visit, “we’ve heard of course, about how great Professor Hughes was, but what we’re really after is something we haven’t heard yet, some reason, some explanation into why this might of happened.”

Munch nodded warily. “We’ve spoken to his ex, his kids, his priest…….”

“And you’ve found nothing,” Dean Summers interrupted. “Professor Hughes made more friends then enemies.”

“Yeah, well, it really just takes one,” Mike eyed him seriously.

Dean Summers nodded with understanding. “Professor Hughes had nearly 30 years tenure. There’s nothing that I can point to that even comes close to explaining this….this unfortunate incident.”

“Any extra-curricular activities?” Munch asked straight to the point.

“He worked hard, his students respected him,” Summers shrugged, “nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Well, someone must have had it in for him,” Mike replied as Summers sipped on his beer.

“The reports weren’t right?” Summers asked as he eyed the two detectives over his glass.

“Excuse me,” Munch answered.

“The news reports, that the shooter was after the judge,” Summers replied casually.

Mike nodded. “Well, yeah, that’s another working theory.”

“Nothing seems to be pointing to Hughes, though? You haven’t seen anything disconcerting?” Summers asked.

“Anytime an upstanding citizen ends up dead, it’s disconcerting,” Munch added flatly, eyeing Summers over his glasses.

“We’d like to take a look in his office,” Kellerman shrugged as they finished up their interview. “You never know, maybe something will turn up.”

Dean Summers nodded. “Of course, I’ll make a call and have someone meet you over there.”
 
 

Campus was always quiet on Saturday afternoons, and with the light rain falling, it was even more so. The semester was drawing to a close, so many of the students had summer plans on their mind; where they were going to work, vacation; or how they were going to get along with their parents back home during the long college break. News about Hughes had circulated through the student body, and it had an impact on the entire campus, not just the law school.

Hughes office was on the second floor in a small corner near the back stairwell. The janitor had indicated that he had occupied the same office for the last eight years. Kellerman and Munch spent nearly an hour rummaging through the old oak desk drawers filled to the brim with all sorts of material, a 4 drawer file cabinet and 5 rows of book shelves. The man may have been a saint, but he didn’t have a prayer when it came to living an orderly life. There were stacks and piles of books and other teaching materials scattered throughout the small office.

By the time John and Mike made their way back to the squadroom, Frank and Kay had begun the tedious task of going over the names on the list provided by Danvers. There were 23 names marked in red and the addresses revealed that were scattered all around Baltimore.

“Hey,” Mike sighed as he passed by their desks, slipping off his jacket, “any luck?”

Frank looked up. “This case isn’t about luck, it’s about police work.”

Kay took a half-step between Frank and Mike sensing some irritation in Kellerman’s statement. She wasn’t sure what smart ass remark he might come back with but could sense one coming. Whenever there was a red ball, everyone was on edge. The fact that it brought them all in on Saturday just added to the mix. “Hey, how’d it go out there for you, hmm?” she asked as much for the distraction as out of interest.

John paced towards them then eyed her flatly. “How did it go out there? How did it *not* go……..”

“Hold on a minute,” Mike interrupted as his statement shifted seriously and away from Pembleton. “Good police work rules out as much as it rules in.”

Kay shrugged with a cocky smile. “Oh,” her voice broke, “so you mean you spent the better part of the day out on the street …….”

“……….getting nothing?” Munch completed the thought, his tone testy, “Hmmm……….yeah.”

“Yeah,” Mike sighed with a tentative nod. “But it’s not like we’re not sure about it.”

She snickered. “In that case, how about taking some of these names and running them down for us, hmm? We could use a little help.”

“Yeah, sure,” Mike answered agreeably. He didn’t mind helping out, especially for Kay. He gestured towards the box, “Lewis and Bayliss have anything yet?”

Frank glanced up. “What they have is a few more hours of police interrogation ahead of them.”

Mike crossed his arms across his chest. “Oh yeah, they think he did it?”

“If he did or if he didn’t, it’ll all come out,” Frank went on. “He’s not going to walk this time. His mom won’t get him off. Aandahl doesn’t even know he’s here.”

A single bleat on the phone interrupted their conversation. Howard picked it up, listened a moment and wrote down a number, then made her way towards the Box. No one disturbed an interrogation in progress unless it was something important. She knew this was important. “Bayliss. Lewis,” she tilted her head towards them seriously.

That halted their momentum and caused them to pause. Lewis bent down low and eyeballed McPhee. “We’ll be back. Don’t go no wheres.”

“What gives?” Lewis shuffled towards Kay with Bayliss close behind, joining the other detectives already assembled by her desk.

Kay handed Bayliss the pink message slip and he glanced at it then showed it to Lewis.

“She say anything?” Lewis asked as his brows narrowed.

“Yeah, she said to call her, hmm,” Kay twisted her red hair and let it fall down her back.

Bayliss turned on his heel towards his desk as Mike sat back against another and eyed Lewis. “How’s it going in there?”

“It ain’t,” Lewis responded with a huff. Rubbing his goatee he returned the query. “Anything shake out on your end?”

“Yeah, the man should be canonized,” Munch snorted.

Tim Bayliss dialed the number then crumbled up the pink message slip. He kept his eye on McPhee as he listened to the bleating of the phone at the other end. “Hey, it’s Bayliss,” he said when the line picked up. It was a quick conversation. Turning towards Lewis, he wiggled his finger at him, gesturing him to towards the door. “Aandahl wants to see us.”

Lewis huffed to himself. “I knew it. She wants to bail out McPhee, hunh?”

Tim had already taken a step towards the door. “She said she has something to tell us on Hughes.”

Munch looked smugly towards him. “We got nothing on Hughes, but she has something on Hughes?”

Lewis reinterated. "Yup, guess so. You got nothing, hunh?"

Kellerman nodded as he rubbed his hand across his face warily. “His office was a mess. Thought it was ransacked at first, but the janitor said it always looked like that.”

Bayliss paused, as he thought a moment. “His office was a mess, hmm?” Munch and Kellerman both nodded while Tim took a moment longer then continued. “His house was neat a pin.”

“Yeah, so,” Kellerman cut him a look asking for clarification.

Bayliss looked towards Lewis, then the other two. “I was just thinking,” he said, “the guys a slob at the office, but his living quarters are neat………..tidy. He had to have had a maid or something.” Thinking a little more on it, he added, “You know, who knows more about what’s going on in your life then your cleaning lady, right?"

Munch eyed him flatly. "I had a maid once………"

"Yeah, well, not that kind of maid, John,” Kellerman snorted then turned his attention back towards Bayliss. “You think we ought to look her up?”

Bayliss responded. “Yeah, it couldn’t hurt.”

Kay shuffled through the papers on her desk and shook them towards Bayliss. “What do you want us to do on these?”

“Might as well stick with it,” Bayliss considered the options, not wanting to leave any stone unturned.

Frank nodded in agreement, “Idle hands are the devils workshop.”

Lewis shook his head as they scooted towards the door then added with a sniff. “Nah,” he said, “Baltimore is.”
 
 
 
 

Hip hop, rap and blues beats could be heard streaming from open windows of row houses and boom boxes set along the stoops of abandoned and rundown apartment buildings as the Cavalier made stop after stop along Baltimore’s grungy streets. The two detectives were accompanied by 2 patrol cars for back up. Their efforts were focused on rounding up convicted killers, dope dealers, and armed robbers that just may have a connection to Aandahl. Finding them didn’t mean a sure escort to the police building. Frank and Kay took care to make that determination on an individual basis. By the end of the run, they had a handful waiting for questioning.
 
 
 
 

“Judge Aandahl,” Tim Bayliss smiled as she opened the door to her 2-story row house. She had spent the better part of the day listening to the news reports and consoling other lawyers and legal acquaintances about the unexplained loss.

“Detectives,” she returned the greeting as they settled onto her overstuffed sofa. “Thanks for coming. I could have come down.”

Lewis tossed his hat back and forth in his hand as he leaned forward on his knees. “No need, your honor.”

Bayliss offered his condolences, recognizing the stress of what she’d been through. “How are you holding up?”

She shrugged ever so slightly then focused on the reason for her call. “Jeremy said something last night, it’s been on my mind. He seemed on edge. I thought it was just retirement jitters. I asked him if anything was going on,” she explained.

“And,” Tim encouraged her to continue.

“He said it was nothing. After I got home it kept replaying in my head,” she sighed. “You know, you search for answers…….”

“We've been looking all day,” Tim answered soberly then added with reassurance. “We’ve got every homicide detective and half the Baltimore police department……..”

“Jeremy had been working on something,” Aandahl interrupted, focused on her own point. “He was collaborating with me, and some others on the bench,” she went on.

“Collaborating. On what?” Bayliss tilted his head forward in interest.

“He’s writing a book, about lawyers; prosecutors, defense attorneys ……..legal maneuverings……...what length they go to, to get their verdicts,” she explained as she took a breath.

“Sounds like a David Simon takeoff on the judiciary system,” Bayliss thought out loud.

"So, that makes you uneasy, Judge?” Lewis asked.

“Not me, but there were some that were,” Aandahl added solemnly.

“No kidding? So where do we go with that?” Lewis appreciated the information, but it left a lot of area for consideration.

She eyed Lewis then Bayliss. “There were some that voiced contempt for the project. They felt like they may be exposed, that they may appear to lack professionalism. He even said there may be some cases that might be put at risk……..possibly be brought up as a mistrial.”

“You know this for a fact, ma’am?” Lewis asked.

“Jeremy dug deep. He researched. He wasn't easily persuaded. If he said that was the way it was, that was the way it was," Judge Aandahl enlightened them. "Suppression of evidence is a serious matter. You could be disbarred, at the very least reprimanded.”

Bayliss had heard enough. “How about naming names Judge Aandhal?”

She shook her head. “He wouldn’t say.” She eyed Lewis then Bayliss. "I asked," she said soberly, regretting she had little more to offer.

"Yeah, well, just call 1-800 SLEAZIE,” Lewis huffed. “You’re bound to find a whole slew that fits the bill.”

The two detectives stood to leave, thanking Judge Aandahl for the information and assuring her they would make every effort to follow up on it. She stopped them at the door. “By the way, leave McPhee alone. He’s not involved in this.”

“No disrespect, ma'm, but if that’s a fact,” Lewis snorted, “it’ll come out, now won’t it?”
 
 
 
 

“Mrs. Jackson,” John Munch eyed the young black woman through the screen door.

“Yes,” she answered cautiously, not sure of the reason of their call, but sensing it was one of importance.

“Baltimore Police Department,” Mike flashed his badge and gave her a reassuring smile, although conveying the seriousness of their visit. “We’re here about Mr. Hughes,” he added to direct her attention.

John asked flatly. “You’ve cleaned his residence, ma'am?”

“If anything is missing, I didn’t take it. Check with the service, I’m bonded, I’ve worked with them for over 6 years,” Mrs. Jackson answered defensively.

“Mr. Hughes is dead,” Kellerman leveled with her bluntly. There was no good way of saying it, no matter how you tried to soften the news.

“Oh, no,” she paused with a gasp. The screen door still stood between her and the two detectives, although it couldn’t shield her from the reality of the news. “If the police are involved,” she thought out loud as the words trailed off.

“He was murdered,” Munch confirmed her thought with a slight nod.

“You clean his place every week,” Mike replied. “Maybe there was something lying around……….I mean, you might have seen something, something you might have seen that could be of interest.”

She interrupted. “I go in. I clean. I do my job. I don’t snoop.”

Mike’s hands paused in front of her, assuring her of his confidence in that. “Look, we’re not saying you snoop. But if there was something laying around, something that might have caught your eye, that might have seemed like it could have meant something………now as you look back on this unfortunate situation, well, it wouldn’t exactly be a violation of trust.”

“We’re looking for a killer,” Munch reminded her sending a cold chill down her back.

Mrs. Jackson turned towards the hallway and motioned for them to follow. Turning back towards them, she stopped. “I’ve been tidying up for Mr. Hughes for nearly 2 years. He tries, I think he really tries……….tried,” she corrected herself, “you know, to keep things neat.”

Mike refocused on the reason for their visit. “Is there anything you can tell us about his habits, maybe how he spent his free time, what sort of things he might have been involved in? It would only be natural to, you know, see certain things.”

“There was always piles of mail, papers, other stuff that he didn’t have time to put away,” she replied, although it didn’t directly answer the question.

“Go on,” John urged.

“Well, he asked me to leave it all on the table, but to straighten it up all together, so he could go through it later,” she explained. “I didn’t really go poking around in it, it’s just the letter was open…..”

“The letter?” Mike responded feeling some sense of its importance.

“Uh huh,” she shrugged. “He got a letter about an advance on a book he was writing. When I saw Mr. Hughes the next time, I told him I was happy for him. I knew he wouldn't mind. I mean, he knew I was straightening his papers after all. He seemed happy, said he’d been working on it for a long time and was glad a publisher was interested. That’s when he said something that seemed sort of strange.”

“Strange?” Mike prompted her further for clarification.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “He said too bad everyone wasn’t going to be happy with it……….the book I mean.” She paused a moment then continued. “I asked him what he meant and …….and he said that as word was getting out about it, there were some that weren’t very happy with it ……like maybe he was thinking there’d be some trouble or something……….”
 
 
 
 
 
 

Lieutenant Giardello was growing impatient. Nearly 24 hours into the case and they were nowhere closer to closing the deal on finding Hughes murder. He was mindful of the hard work of his detectives, but also mindful of the higher ups who always demanded more then what was reasonable to expect. Glancing around from his open office door, he saw McPhee Broadman still sitting in the box, a small group of miscreants in the Aquarium, and the sqaudroom void of his detectives. In short order, Kay and Frank scooted in towards their desks. Within minutes Lewis and Bayliss ambled up the stairs with Munch and Kellerman falling in behind. Gee didn’t waste a moment when they all appeared around the board spontaneously.

“Detectives……," his booming voice echoed towards them, "do tell……….. what have you detected, assuming, of course, that you’ve all been out detecting something.”

“We feel we’re moving forward here Gee,” Bayliss answered with some authority.

“I see lots of suspects and no warrants, please tell me you’re getting close to solving this case,” he replied as eyeballed each of them, as though demanding it would make it so.

“Close, Gee?” Bayliss' statement was flat and edged with fatigue. “Yeah, yeah, we’re getting closer,” he answered, although unconvincingly.

“How closer?” he asked.

“We saw Judge Aandahl this afternoon,” Lewis answered. “Seems the deceased may have been fretting over some of his fellow colleagues.”

“How so?” Gee took a couple of footsteps closer.

“Hughes had a book deal ……..seems not everyone was happy 'bout it,” Lewis answered. “Some were, some weren't," he hummed as he waved his head side to side, "…….maybe some wanted to lighten some of the chapters."

"Who? That’s usually left to the editor. You got something to back that up?" The pacing had stopped, and Giardello was clearly wanting answers; not hunches, not theories, but clear evidence.

Bayliss shrugged as he tried to appease him. "Yeah, Gee, there were some attorney's that weren't happy with what the book was about to reveal."

"Which attorneys?" Gee pressed again. “Names. I want names, not accusations.”

Bayliss hesitated a moment, knowing Giardello would not be happy with the response. "We're still working on that Gee."

“We spoke to Molly,” Munch added, without immediate details.

“The maid,” Mike clarified.

Munch continued. “And she concurred.”

Gee turned back towards Bayliss. “Confiscate his computer. If he was writing a book, there’s bound to be files." Giardello shook his head with notable frustration as he mumbled while he headed back to his office. "Times are different now. You used to spend your days interviewing suspects, canvassing for evidence, real police work, not searching through text files," he huffed as he turned and was already thinking about how he was going to explain this all to Barnfather.

“We’re on it,” Bayliss nodded.

Turning back towards Lewis and then Bayliss with a second thought he looked towards the Box. “What about McPhee?”

“Let’s let him sweat a while longer before we cut him loose,” Lewis’ eyes glanced towards McPhee, but he never broke his statement.

Giardello returned to his office and spent the next few hours shuffling through the piles of paperwork that sat on his desk. It was either that or run down with Barnfather the leads that his detectives were following. Halfway back to his office he decided to put that off for as long as he could. The day was fading fast and it look'd as though they’d be going home without solving the case. So much for Sunday being a day of rest.
 
 
 
 

.

"Gee, we may have a break," Bayliss listed towards Giardello’s desk, pausing just in front of it.

"A break before breakfast," Gee's statement didn't change, although his tone of voice was filled with anticipation.

“We found something, well, the geeks down in cyber crimes division did; a file……… ‘suppression’……… as in evidence," he explained.

"For the book?" Giardello asked, hoping that it could actually mean something.

"Chapter and verse,” Lewis mouthed with an air of confidence that it could be a solid lead. "Reads like murder one Gee."

Gee snapped the cap back on his ballpoint pen and stood up meeting them eye to eye. "So you have a name, an attorney, that looks like he had reason………..?"

Bayliss explained the interesting content, picking up on Giardello’s prompt. "An attorney named Robert Shields at the firm of Snarling and Webb was repping a man by the name of Burton Speaks."

Lewis picked up from there. "Mr. Speaks was picked up on a matter of armed robbery with a second count of carjacking a young moms, raping her and leaving her for dead." He paused a moment then continued, "'Cept she was found along side the road out in Arundel county and is slowly making a recovery."

Growing impatient, Giardello crossed his arms across his chest, his posture more impressive then his tone of voice was. "So where’s the suppression of evidence?"

Lewis continued, although not exactly to the point. "She couldn’t make an ID."

"Massive blunt trauma to the head, upper torso," Bayliss waved his hand in an upward gesture, filling him in to the gruesome details.

Impatience etched further on Giardello's face, as he pressed on, "And this is going somewhere before lunch?"

"Or not, “ Lewis answered. “The po-leece had the man lock, stock and barrel."

"Or so they thought," Bayliss shrugged then added, "Mr. Speaks had a sheet…..B & E, armed robbery, - but no personal injuries; no assaults, no batteries, no rapes."

"So, this one was different?" Giardello acknowledged the comment, still wanting them to get to the point. "There was hard evidence?"

“Hardly evidence,” Lewis shook his head as he scoffed. "Trouble is, Gee, Charles Nassau was seen with Speaks just prior to the incident. And later he's the one got spotted with the lady's dog."

"Small terrier mix," Bayliss smiled smugly with the meaningless information then added, "Goes by the name of Sammi."

"Nassau was picked up with the dog," Lewis explained further. "Charlie took the whole rap, even though eye wits ID'd Speaks as the man."

"So, why is Speaks on the street *now*?" Giardello asked. "Is there a bloody glove here somewhere that I'm missing?"

"No glove, no houseguest,” Bayliss sighed then went on. “What's missing Gee, is crucial evidence not brought out at trial," Bayliss explained. "Without it the prosecutor couldn't make his case. Shields' argued to suppress, some technicality of some sort, so the jury heard only the other half of the story…..which the defense attorney's made sure of."

"The fact that Nassau had the pup," Lewis reiterated, “an' was seen hanging ‘round with Speaks the day of the crime.”

"And the fact that he'd been picked up out of state on a rape charge. So the rest is history," Bayliss continued.

“There was no DNA? No culpable evidence that Danvers couldn’t present?” Giardello asked incredulously.

“Latex,” Bayliss shrugged.

Lewis nodded and then added his take on the situation, "Some days it just don't pay to be a dog lover."

Gee still was confused. "Attorney's suppress evidence everyday," he huffed. "And this attorney gets his nose out of joint? Why?"

"That's what we're ‘bout find out," Lewis replied with his hand already on the door.
 
 
 
 

Robert Shields' had never been in the Box before. As a defense attorney, he often came face to face with detectives, but always when representing a suspect and never on the 2nd floor Homicide unit. He was young, barely 30 and by virtue of his appearance, he had lived a privileged life. $600 worsted wool suits, Polo pinpoint Oxford shirts with embroidered logo & monogrammed sleeves, silk ties, and an imported Italian leather briefcase. Without even asking, Bayliss would bet he had a set of titanium clubs sitting in his condo ready to pack in his BMW.

Glancing around the sparse surroundings of the mustard colored brick walls, Bayliss was growing impatient as he paced around the table slowly, coming to a halt just in front of the young man. He had spent a good hour trying to shake something out of him. "What do you think, Shields? How many times do you think I’ve stood across this table from someone I thought was a killer?”

“No idea,” Shields tone was edged with arrogance.

“No, you wouldn’t have any idea, would you?” Bayliss leaned forward narrowing the distance as if he could put more pressure on him. “And you know why?” He stood up as he picked up a manila folder then opened it like a choir book, glancing at a page or two. Closing it slowly, he tossed it onto the table. “See, I know why. Because you’ve never handled a murder case, have you? Danvers pulled your record. You’ve been in front of the bench 64 times, started out working grunt cases; misdemeanors, misadventures, mishaps……."

Lewis joined in, "……..then you graduated to meaner cases. Those involvin' property with maybe a little assault, maybe a little battery.” Meldrick shifted in the chair, looked at Bayliss then back to Shields. “See,…you’re ambitious- I….we can tell that…you know, just by lookin’ at ya. You are busy working your way up the ladder and all."

Bayliss added to the point, "You’ve got lots to live up.”

“What are you talking about?” Shields asked, not willing to acknowledge any thing without making them work for it.

“I’m talking about you……..your brother, he’s what- a top notch criminal attorney up in Manhattan, your dad, a retired judge in upstate New York….why …why if you get cited in a book that your ambitions take precedence over reason ….that you blew even the simpliest of cases, well, that could put a black mark on your career,” Bayliss laid it out to him.

“I didn’t do it. I wouldn't do it,” Robert insisted. “Why would I take the chance of getting caught anyway? Just to keep my name out of a book?” He chuckled in a scoff. “I spent four years at Boston University, finished my law degree at Hopkins. I took classes from Hughes and you think I'd bury him? To what? To silence him……? That’s impressive….. I mean, that you’ve come up with this elaborate theory…but that’s all it is.”

“You had lunch with him Wednesday night at Jon Stevens,” Lewis edged in slowly towards him, adding a little more to the theory. “He met you at 12:30, you sat at a window seat facing Thames…..”

"I was in the mood for crab cakes," he replied cockily then changed his tone. "And I wanted to wish him well on his retirement."

"You didn't talk about the book?" Bayliss fired a question, changing the approach.

"We talked about a lot of things," he responded.

"The book being one of them?" Bayliss pressed again.

"Look what you do is honorable. It really is….. but what I do is too," Shields replied, making more of a point of his reputation then answering the question. "Yeah, sure, I still got a lot to learn, I'm still making a name for myself. It takes time……..What were your first days like as a rookie, detective?" He looked towards Bayliss. "Did you close your first case?"

The mention of his earlier days as a homicide detective flashed through his head. An orange raincoat. A library bag. A missing earring. A small school portrait of a little black girl whose smile had no indication of what lied ahead. Battered and raped. Mercilessly brutalized. Tim fought away the wretched taste in his stomach.

"We're not here talkin' 'bout what we did or didn't do way back whenever," Lewis seemed to sense that Tim needed a moment. "We're talkin' bout you. You," he pointed his finger towards him. "And where you might have been Friday night?"

He sighed, took a minute to answer, but didn’t seem taken off guard. "I spent the evening at home.”

"Yeah, ambitious guy like you jus' sittin' home on a Friday night? Doing what? Writing briefs?" Lewis asked cockily with a chuckle.

"I called my folks, did some wash, watched Law & Order….that sex crimes one,” he answered with confidence.

"You got any wits to that fact?" Meldrick asked.

"My mother will verify I called her and if I thought a minute I could give you the details on the show,” he answered without having to consider the answer.

"Yeah, well we'll get to that. How many miles you have on your Explorer?" Lewis asked.

"I don't know, I don't keep track, I take the subway most of the time, most of what I do is right here in town," Shields carried on without missing a beat.

"Nice vehicle like an Explorer and you barely use it," Bayliss moved in behind Lewis, crossing his arms as he waited for a response.

"Yeah, that's what I said," he answered.

Lewis queried. "It stay parked in your garage?"

"Most of the time. Look, I'm not some punk you can push around, you know. You don't have any evidence linking me to this, if you did you'd have shown it by now," Shields was growing tired and frustrated, and surely was aware of his rights. He stood to leave.

"Sit down,” Bayliss moved to block the door, more of a gesture of authority then of concern that he’d leave. “We're not done talking yet."

"I think I've had about enough," he responded.

"Yeah, well, you see, you might be in charge in court, but this little room is ours……we say who comes and who goes,” Lewis stood as the three of them faced off eye to eye.

“Then what do you have to keep me?” he asked more assertively.

Bayliss outlined as little as possible, in small increments to hopefully apply pressure. “An eye wit ID'd the vehicle as a dark SUV.”

"You've got a dark gray Explorer," Lewis added smuggly.

"Me and many others," Shields replied defensively. He was growing tired, but knew he had no recourse for now. But when he had a chance, he was sure he could make life miserable for both of them if he ever handled a case they were testifying on.

"You had some connection to Hughes. And by your own admission, you knew about the book.” Bayliss outlined further corrobative evidence.

Shields offered his explanation. “Rumors had been flying around about it for months.”

"We know you met with him 2 days before he was blasted,” Lewis crossed his arms and shifted slightly.

He scoffed. “That proves nothing…….except we both like seafood.”

"We think you had more business then just best wishes for his retirement. We think you knew what he was about to reveal and you wanted to stop him,” Bayliss replied assuredly.

“You can't prove that," Shields paced slightly away from the two.

"Not yet, but we will," Bayliss argued, then added, "We'll interview your colleagues, your partners in the firm, speak to your mom, look up the waitress at Stevens.”

Lewis added seriously. “Never know what she might have heard as she was serving up Manhattan's and crab cakes.”

“This is all a lot of speculation, for nothing,” Shields shook of the comments. "My aspirations have nothing to do with this. You’re wasting your time."

"I don't know, a grand jury might see it otherwise,” Bayliss looked towards Lewis then made direct eye contact with Shields.

“It could all get pretty ugly,” Lewis reminded him. “All the hoopla and all……The media, ya know, they just love a circus.”

Bayliss added, “The news, well I’d bet it might even reach as far as upstate New York.” He paused then added another dose in reality. “And a man like Speaks, what's he got to lose, hunh? He hear you get brought up on charges and that it might throw him in the jackpot again, well, I wouldn't want to be around when he found that out.”

“He already knows about it," Shields replied, although he was beginning to wear with the veiled threat of becoming a Breaking Story.

“Say what?" Lewis asked.

“I saw him last week, on another criminal matter, told him that there might be some legal rangling about his case, not to worry, they wouldn't try him again anyway, because of double jeopardy, and it shouldn't have any effect on his pending case,” Shields shed some light.

“How'd he take the news?” Tim’s eyes narrowed as he thought about it further.

“Like a trooper,” Shields replied.

“Yeah, I bet,” Tim mulled it over a moment longer.

“Speaks isn't about to let anyone or anything rattle him," Shield's replied. "When push comes to shove, he could give a shit."

"He say anything…..givin’ you that impression and all?” Lewis asked.

"No, just that Hughes had balls to think he could make money off of him that way,” Shields shrugged.

"You give him Hughes name?” Bayliss ran his hand down his face, ready for a cup of coffee, but not willing to take a break to change the momentum.

"Yeah,” he answered. “Yeah, I think I did,” Shields responded.

Bayliss nodded towards the squadroom, beckoning Lewis to follow him. “I didn't like the sounds of that,” he shrugged towards Lewis.

“Me neither, I mean, he tells someone like Speaks he's lucky to be off on charges and the guys…..,” Lewis thought out loud, although it was a moot point.

“The guys bound to be fucking pissed,” Tim replied.

Lewis nodded half-heartedly. “That’s what I was thinking.”

“Pissed enough to bring down an aspiring writer,” Bayliss continued. Heading towards the data base, he plugged in the information. “And get this,” he pointed towards the screen. “Judge Aandahl was set to here his pending case.”

“Let’s go see if Speaks’ got anythin’ that’s worth speaking about,” Lewis took a step towards the door.
 
 

Tim Bayliss took a step forward, turning his head slightly from the blinding light. Barnfather was pointing towards him and Detective Lewis as the heavy equipment shifted towards them for a better angle in front of the police building. Barnfather had just made the announcement, with Giardello standing beside him, about the arrest of an acquaintance of Burton Speaks. Although Speaks had been sitting in jail the night that Hughes was murdered, Lewis and Bayliss were able negotiate a confession after presenting enough evidence to throw him off guard. He had admitted that someone had owed him a favor. A big one. Or two, if you wanted to consider that bullets were meant for both Hughes and Aandahl.

“Lieutenant Giardello, you have a few words? Maybe to sum up all the fine police work on the case,” Barnfather prompted him, enjoying a moment of police pride.

“Yeah, well, that’s right,” Gee stepped towards the mic. “Everyday there’s murders in this town. And everyday there’s fine police work. Too many of them go unresolved.’

Barnfather shuddered at their shortcomings, although not visibly, not wanting to take away from the department’s moment. Giardello continued. “We had six detectives working the street, looking at every angle, sifting through tips and evidence. Detective Bayliss did a fine job leading the investigation, as did the entire Homicide unit.”

The media circle listened while Giardello continued then began to disperse as the comments came to an end. “Detective Bayliss,” a reporter cornered him unexpectedly. “Any comments for the record?”

Bayliss cupped his hand over the mic. “The real stories are the one’s that are long forgotten.” He turned on his heel and jogged up the steps to the double doors just as he had the first time he walked into Homicide. And as he turned away from the bright lights, a light rain began to fall, soon becoming a downpour.

****THE END