A TOUGH NUT TO CRACK

By

K. SUE COLLINS, author of Catharsis

Leon MacGroud didn’t look like your typical murdering pimp. He wore clothes that could have been purchased at your local Eddie Bauer. The button below his collar was missing. His quiet almost shy demeanor suggested to me that he saved the extra buttons. Had I met Leon on the street, I would have thought he was a 40 year-old loser still living with Mom, because (publicly to his co-workers) she needed the assistance around the house. Secretly, it was for the purpose he simply couldn’t let go. I would, however, be deadly misled. Leon’s outward appearance was the only indication of the meticulously control obsession of a violent offender. He kept everything else in check until he attacked.

The only thing we know about her life was she was a prostitute by choice and her working name was "Farrah" and she capitalized on her striking resemblance to Jill Monroe. The best-selling poster perpetuated the fantasies of many pubescent boys who now had the chance to make their wet dreams come true for only a hundred bucks.

In death more details would be revealed, not known at this point. Funny that death tells our deepest secrets and vices. Such as "Farrah" had given birth at least twice and she was only a teenager. Fucking your life away ages you real quick. She was found near a soup kitchen on Thanksgiving, beaten and raped with no regard for her being. She was at the time of this retelling, on life support. The seconds were ticking away until she passed over to the other side. It sounds more romantic than it is. Once "Farrah" died it wouldn’t be my case anymore and the dicks in Homicide would take over. If Leon MacGroud would just confess then it would remain my collar. A gold star would look good on my record next to the white out of past mistakes. It was exactly the lift my career could use right now. I was in what you might call a transition stage in my career. I was teetering on the brink and where I would fall nobody knew. I was kinda like Humpty Dumpty on that damned wall, all the king’s men hovering around.

"Farrah" was going to die. Since it already happened I could tell you it was only a short time away. But I knew this already. I didn’t need the gift of foresight to know the inevitable. It was a matter of time. Short time. A discernible time table. I had to beat it. Leon’s confession would aid the DA in an indictment. But the wrong words put into his mouth by an overly ambitious cop would be to the Defense’s advantage, leaving egg on the face of the DA. A present they would not like to get. And a thank you note would not be mailed.

An ADA was watching me through the one-way. He and my CO were observing; aching for a mistake on my part. I put the pieces together, made the arrest, and by God I would be the one who would close it. The one thing that stood in my way was Leon and his lawyer, a Ronald Langdon, a slippery council whose first and foremost priority was the checkbook. As long as the check was good, so was his defense. He wasn’t above making a grown man cry if it was for his benefit. Rumor had it that once Ronnie had instructed a guilty client to keep his mouth shut no matter what during his trial. Then at the most opportune moment, he staked the defendant in the thigh with a Monte Blanc mechanical pencil. He kept twisting the lead into the defendant until he produced a steady stream of tears. A sympathetic jury was divided. A hung jury and the dope dealer was back on the street four hours after the jury deliberations.

That was not going to happen on my watch. I was not a stupid naïve juror. I am Detective Savannah Brooks, daughter of legendary Police Captain Alexander Brooks and sister to big shot, tough as nails ADA Katherine Brooks. Being a pit bull ran in my genes. Quitting and letting some bleeding heart liberal lawyer show me up at my own station house was not an option. I would make criminals think twice about trying to fuck over Savvy Brooks. I would nail their balls to the walls.

Langdon was bored with my presence. Somehow he thought this would not be a challenge to someone with his pedigree. Leon must have been profitable in the whore trade to be able to afford the retainer for his services. I told ADA Lindsey I would handle this matter myself. He wasn’t eager, but he owed me big time over the Hamilton/Reynolds case. He begrudgingly agreed to let me hold the reins for now. He made it very clear he would be observing me through the one-way, waiting for me to slip up. He would appear like an alley cat pouncing on day fish heads. "I needn’t remind you, you can’t afford another black mark on your record," Lindsey warned me. "Yeah," I responded with my mouth, but my mind was constructing a game plan to execute. Gruden, eat your heart out.

A look at his watch, Ronald Langdon displayed he would rather be golfing. "Late for tee time, Counselor."

He gave me one of those forced smiles reserved for parents in restaurants who let their brats play in their mac and cheese.

"Maybe you don’t have a schedule to keep, Officer, but I do."

Ronald Langdon knew damn well that my rank was a well-deserved Detective. Another brilliant move of tactical expertise on his part. Force the officers (Detectives) to focus their fury on you (the lawyer) so you (the lawyer) can catch them off-guard. Nice try, but not today. I was on my game. I was hungry for a win. I was tired of being 5-7.

I opened up my file and smiled. "Don’t sweat it, Ronnie, you get paid by the hour." Sarcasm, where my tactical expertise lies.

Leon hadn’t said "boo" since the arrest. I was watching him out of the corner of my eye the whole time. My guess was Langdon ordered Leon to take the fifth. Despite all of Langdon’s greedy faults, stupidity was not one of them. He saw what I was doing. He must have been wondering why there weren’t any ambassadors in the room. This was highly unusual. I would have felt the same way were I in that position. Not too long ago I was. A rush offense would be how I would have played it on my first possession. "If you don’t mind, Detective." He hit the word DETECTIVE with feline ferocity. "But it is a holiday and some of us would like to enjoy a home cooked meal."

I looked directly through Ronald. I wanted him to know it wasn’t him that I was interested in. My attention was squarely focused on Leon. "I wouldn’t be too worried, Leon. They’ll keep your can of cranberry sauce in the fridge for you." He looked at me. The first reaction I had gotten from Old Leon since I busted his ass. Physically, he wasn’t such an imposing force. I had taken down bigger. But he was deadlier in other ways. He was thoughtful and given to impulse. A very dangerous combination. If I could play on the impulse I might be on to something. I had studied Leon’s file before I had come into this meeting. I flipped the file closed.

"Nice to see you closed the book on this case, Detective."

I grinned a Cheshire cat smile at Ronald. "Nice try."

Langdon leaned back into his chair. He found it to be uncomfortable. He moved forward and placed his interlaced hands square on the table. "Look, Detective Brooks, this is all a terrible mistake. My client is a respected and reputable local businessman."

My God, how can he keep a straight face saying such bullshit? Time to put on my game face. I ignored Langdon’s penetrating eyes searching my face for something that would give away where I was going. I stared straight into Leon. His attention focused on a metal ding on the table. "Your respected and reputable client brutally raped and murdered one of his employees."

Leon looked up. His eyes level with mine. He did it; there was no doubt in my mind. The evidence was leading to the same conclusions I knew to be true.

"Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Detective, as far as we know the victim is still breathing."

My eyes weren’t flinching from Leon’s. We were both staring into a flame, neither blinking nor admitting defeat by turning away. "She won’t be for long. Then it will be a murder charge for your client. Considering his past behavior. I don’t see a judge granting him bail."

"And I’m the vulture?" Leon lost and directed his attention elsewhere. "You’re the one who is just biding time until your precious victim passes away." I could careless about what kind of legal maneuvering Langdon attempted. His actions meant nothing to me. He wasn’t the one I needed a confession from. Ignoring Langdon wounded his ego. Lawyers and actors have the biggest egos of any profession in the world. "I’ll have your badge, Detective. When I’m through with you, you won’t be able to get a job working security at Wal-Mart!" I reached down to my belt buckle, unlatched my badge and offered it up to him on the table. "Here," I said with the toss. This caught Langdon off-guard, I could tell because he immediately shut up. I could just bet Lindsey and my CO were shitting themselves in the next room. I half-expected them to come bursting into the room at this point. They trusted me. That was a first.

Langdon picked up the badge and held it in his hands. He had that look in his eyes that said, "What the hell am I suppose to do with this?" He dropped my badge on the table and rubbed his hands together as if to get the feeling out of them.

I laid out the stats. "When ‘Farrah’ dies, you’ll be put on trial for Murder. That’s a capital offense, Leon." I lowered my face on the table trying to match pupils. Langdon instructed him well. I pushed it further. "You know what state we’re in, don’t ya, Leon? With your priors Old Smoky will be powered up for you. We’ve got a Republican Governor. The taxpayers in this fair state won’t be wanting to foot the bill for your pathetic ass. Which is what it will be once you’re in the clink and labeled a sex offender."

"That’s enough!" Langdon slammed his fist on the table. I simmered down. He continued. "You don’t have anything. This is the RCPD trying to make quotas. If you had anything if would be the DA talking to us right now, striking up a deal. You have nothing only a hunch and the unfortunate coincidence that Leon MacGroud knew the victim."

"That unfortunate coincidence you are referring to is Leon being her pimp. That doesn’t sit well with the average American. That’s not the only coincidence we own. The crime lab is processing the evidence as we speak." I assured him.

Langdon remained unimpressed. "Am I suppose to be impressed? It will be days before there’s a DNA match."

"By then Leon will be brought up on murder charges." Leon was watching me. I wanted to stab him with my Bic Pen.

"Out of curiosity, what do you suggest?"

I shrugged it off. "A confession would make my holiday."

"What’s the price?"

I laughed. "We’re not at a garage sale. There’s no wheeling and dealing."

Now it was Langdon’s turn to laugh. "You must be pulling my leg. There’s no way in hell I’m agreeing to that. Not a God Damned chance in hell."

It was time for my quarterback sneak attack. "Look, it’s Thanksgiving. I want to get home to my TV dinner and I know you need to head back to your rock before the sun goes down. But you’re not getting a deal."

"Take the death penalty off and my client and I will discuss the possibility of pleading to assault and battery to the DA. By the by, where is your sister? Only one Brooks working per holiday?" Now it was his turn to be sarcastic. I didn’t need to be reminded my sister was an ADA.

"All you get is me. Everyone else has the holiday off so that puts me in one pissy mood."

Langdon conceded. "Fine talk to my client, you won’t get anything incriminating from him."

What do you know? I was allowed to score with the defense. Now, to go for the point after. "Thank you, Counselor." I pushed the file to the side. "Hello, Leon."

Leon’s right cheek was lying on the table. I smacked the table a quarter of an inch away from his nose. He lifted his face up with a start. "Hey!" Langdon blurted out. "There’s no need for that."

"What?" I played innocent. "I thought he was asleep." Nobody bought that. "How ya doing there, Leon, did we have a nice nap?" Leon was a grumpy riser. His eyes narrowed. He wasn’t about to answer anything from me. "Counselor, please instruct your client to answer?"

Langdon nodded to Leon. "I’m fine, bitch, how about yourself?" Now that’s the attitude I wanted. I was ready for it. He looked like a mousy CPA but he had the mouth of Jack the Sailor.

"Don’t you want to know how Farrah’s doing?"

"The fuck do I care." I glanced over to watch Langdon’s reaction. He was the smuggest he had been all interview long. I turned my attention to the one-way mirror. I raised my eyebrows in mock laughter. Lindsey was not getting in now.

I licked my lips; the chapstick was wearing off. "She was one of yours wasn’t she?"

Crossed arms over his chest, he raised his feet to place them on the table. Boy, did I want to smack that smirk off of his face. "She was a lousy fuck."

"Really, that’s what all the girls say about you."

Surprise. His feet stomped to the ground. He didn’t mean for this to get to him. The wounded male pride always predictable. He tried to regain some of his composure. He moved his tongue inside of his mouth. The lack of response hinted at something.

I stood up. "So tell me something, Leon. Did you rape her first or did you have to beat her unconscious before you got up…" A very calculated long pause "…the nerve."

His fist hit the table. Langdon placed his hands on top of Leon’s trying to calm him down. "She is just trying to get you riled up. Don’t fall for it." Langdon didn’t whisper it softly enough.

Leon put one fist in another and started to crack all of his knuckles. I had him on the ropes. "I didn’t do it."

"Oh," I grabbed my file and flipped it through. I pretended like I had information to the contrary. "So you weren’t worried that you were losing all of your clientele to Maxmillion Felle."

He was taking advice from his lawyer. I decided to push it. Langdon was whispering softer into his ear. Leon was waving him away. He was certain that he was better and smarter than I was. "No, no, I want to say something to you." He was facing me. "Farrah was a whore, do you know what a whore is?"

"I think I do."

"Naw, I don’t think you do." He almost laughed. "They ain’t nobody. They are slaves sold to a master. That master owns them and everything they are. A hundred years ago, nobody gave a shit whether or not a master executed one of his slaves. He just went out and bought another."

I tried to squeeze in a joke. "I didn’t know you owned a plantation?"

He slammed his fists on the table. He was starting to get worked out. "Who the fuck cares? I’ll just get myself another one."

"Where at the marketplace? For two donkeys and a plow?"

BAM! Leon was standing up. He wasn’t as weak as when I arrested him this afternoon. "You’re this close, bitch!" He squeezed his pointer finger and thumb together. Langdon was trying to calm him down. He rested his hands on Leon’s shoulders and attempted to weigh him down. When that didn’t work he applied pressure. Leon loosened up and sat down.

Langdon took control of the meeting. "I think we need to take a break."

"By all means," I said. "It will give Leon time to get up his courage to murder and rape another whore."

That didn’t bother Leon in the least. He didn’t move. He knew what he was and what he did. It was up to me to bring it out of him. "Naww, I’m okay. I don’t need no break. I need to get home."

I took a moment to grab my files. I flipped to Leon’s bio. Something caught my eye. Lucky for me I’m a fast reader. It jolted me. "One more thing Leon, it says here that you were arrested before."

He scoffed at me. "Yeah, I’ve been pinched before. What’s your point?"

"When you were eighteen. You remember what that was for?"

Langdon was leading Leon to the door. He had dreams of candied corn in his head. "Come on, Leon."

"Can’t say, I do." He scratched his head.

I tossed the file over to him to jog his memory. He turned around and walked over to the table. "Seems you were busted with your mommy?" He froze for an instant. Leon’s muscles stayed taut and solid. "Your mommy was Carrie MacGroud, wasn’t she?"

"And?" He wanted to know where I was going with this revelation.

"She was busted for prostitution." I placed my palms flat on the table. "That makes you a bastard whore’s son. You yourself ain’t no better than a slave." For the final nail in the coffin, I spoke it out slowly. "Didn’t know slaves killed their own."

In retrospect, I should have ducked the moment I said it. I was still gloating when Leon came barreling at me across the table. He knocked the table on its side. The edge barely missed pinning my feet under it. Leon was on top of me. I could hear Langdon banging on the door.

"You stupid fucking bitch. Farrah got what she deserved!" Hey, I got my confession. If I weren’t trapped under a sociopath I would have been celebrating. He wrapped his fingers around my neck. He was tightening his grip on me. I had to act fast before I passed out. My fingers founded my Bic pen on the floor. They reached out. I grabbed a hold of it. I held onto it like Anthony Perkins in Psycho. I used all the strength in my girlie arms. I dug the Bic under one of his ribs. Leon yelped. Dark blood came gushing out. He let go of my throat. I pushed him off.

The officers came pouring into the room. Too little, too late, boys. I crawled up to my feet. I rubbed my throat. Leon was thrashing on the floor. Langdon couldn’t get out of the room fast enough. So much for loyalty. The other cops were all over Leon to restrain him. Lindsey offered up his hand. I shook it after making sure my neck still worked.

"You got a confession, for all the good it would do you," Lindsey really knew how to burst my bubble. "It will probably be thrown out."

"I know I could count on you to bring up the positive, Lindsey." I was massaging my neck. I would have a bruise in a short while.

"On the bright side, we could get him for assaulting a law enforcement officer."

"All in the line of duty," I quipped.

The officers dragged Leon out of the room. He still had enough air in his lungs to utter another profanity at me. I gave him the finger. His toes were scuffing the floor as he was nearly being carried out of the room.

Lindsey moved me to the side. His mood was somber. "Afraid, I’ve got some bad news for you, Detective." He didn’t have to say it. Farrah had died.

Leon copped a plea. He’s serving life in prison. No chance of parole. He was rotten to begin with. Now maybe he’ll get what’s coming to him.