What Happened to those Characters? Forced Retirement (Jing-Wei Liu)
[This is the ninth and last installment in a series of short stories titled “What Happened to Those Characters?”. (It’s the last until next fall, at least.) Each one revisits a character or characters from one of my novels and takes a peek at what happened later. Today it’s Jing-Wei Liu from Teeter-Totter between Lust and Murder. In software, you always have another bug; in writing, there’s always another edit to make. Somehow Rafael Ortiz, NYPD Detective Chen’s old partner, of the “Detectives Chen and Castilblanco Series,” received a name change to Ruiz from The Midas Bomb to Angels Need Not Apply, probably because I already had an Ortiz in the latter book. (sigh) Moot point here, though, because Jing-Wei Liu was Chen’s lawyer in Teeter-Totter, and Ortiz needs a good lawyer too. Enjoy.]
Forced Retirement
Steven M. Moore
Copyright 2014
Ortiz performed the countdown with his fingers—one, two, three. On three, the leader and another member of the SWAT team used their battering ram to crash through the door. A firefight ensued with the three dealers. High-grade heroin dust filled the air as their suspects overturned their work table and started firing. Two were taken out by return fire, but the woman, running in a crouch and using a large frying pan to shield her head, made it into the bedroom, Ruiz in pursuit.
“Stop, or I’ll shoot!”
Ortiz had no intention of shooting her in the back as she struggled to open the window that led to the fire escape. There were cops in the alley below who’d collar her easily enough. But she turned and pointed her gun at him.
He reacted by instinct upon seeing the weapon, moving to the side and firing before she could. His bullet smashed into her jaw, and the frying pan broke through the window, followed by her body.
He rushed to the window and looked down at the dead body. Shit! We needed one of them alive for questioning.
NYPD needed to know where the influx of high-grade stuff on the streets originated. The original source didn’t matter, but they wanted the middlemen suppliers. They figured it was a Mexican cartel, but which one?
“You OK, Ortiz?” He turned around. The SWAT team leader was taking his helmet off. “You hit?”
“No, I beat her shot, but I never wanted to kill her. We have no one to question now.”
“No skin off my nose,” the other said. “I look at my own kids and wonder how many people’s kids’ OD deaths these bastards are responsible for. We’ll get their suppliers eventually.”
“It’s nice to hear some optimism,” said Ortiz.
He didn’t have kids, but he understood the man’s point of view.
***
“I’ll need your gun and badge,” said the Captain.
Ortiz frowned. “What for? Did you ask for the shields and weapons of the SWAT team members?”
“Different situation. Your shooting is being investigated. SOP, Ortiz.”
“Because I’m a plainclothes narc? Yeah, I know, SOP. For how long?”
“Maybe a day or two. From your story, which the CSU and ME will corroborate, I’m sure, there should be no problem except paperwork.” The Captain smiled. “You deserve a day or two off anyway. Good job.”
“We don’t have anyone left to question,” said Ortiz, “so it’s not such a good job in my opinion.”
“Maybe next time,” said the Captain. “I’d rather the dealers die than cops, my friend.”
Ortiz nodded. Two days wasn’t much. Maybe he’d schedule a quick overnight at the New Jersey Shore with Brenda Sue.
But the getaway didn’t occur. He was helping Brenda Sue put together beach equipment when his cell phone rang.
“We have a problem,” said the Captain.
***
Dao-Ming Chen glance over at her partner, who was taking advantage of tablet computing by relaxing in his desk chair, tablet on his lap, feet on top of the desk. A bit slovenly in his habits, he still always showed up in the precinct with a tie. But the shoes always looked tired and dusty. No wonder. New York cops probably walk more than most, especially the uniformed ones.
Her phone rang. She recognized the voice.
“Hiya, ex-partner. Got a minute?” Rafael Ortiz’ face looked older than she remembered. She could see lines in that face even in the tiny screen of the phone. “Figured you could help me out here.”
“Are you in trouble, Rafael?”
“Nothing I don’t deserve, maybe. I should have let the woman shoot me. I need a good lawyer. Remembered you had a pretty good one with that little dust-up you had awhile back. Our union lawyers don’t give me a great deal of confidence.”
She smiled. What Ortiz called a dust-up was the case where she’d been accused of murdering a U.S. Senator. Maybe he hasn’t lost his sense of humor. She saw Rollie Castilblanco looking her way, eyebrows raised. Sixth sense. The man senses trouble.
“I can give you her name. “ She did. “What’s the problem?”
“Some femme fatale with smack dust for makeup leveled a gun at me. I shot her. They can’t find the gun.” He explained what had happened in more detail.
“So, Internal Affairs is hounding you?”
“That’s the nice word for it, I guess. I’m guilty until proven innocent. You know that gig.”
“Anything Rollie or I can do?”
“Not really. If they don’t find her gun, me and my lawyer are going to have to become very creative.”
***
“Because you’re friends with Chen, I’ll give you a reduced rate, Mr. Ortiz, but I still don’t come as cheap as your union lawyers. You understand that.”
“That’s OK. I can tap into some IRAs I have, sell the holdings in my Schwab account, or trade in my car.” He smiled. “I’m not destitute.”
“So, let’s go over the details of the shooting.”
Jing-Wei Liu decided she liked Rafael Ortiz, even if he was a bit rough around the edges. He was a more compact version of Chen’s partner. She’d called Chen before taking Ortiz’ case, trying to get some background on the ex-partner. He didn’t seem like someone who would shoot a perp without reason. She smiled at Ortiz across the conference table.
***
“Sure. I remember you from Chen’s case.” Big Tiny, the ME, sighed with pleasure at his sip of caffeine-and-chocolate-powered large-size coffee. “I’d offer you one of these, but the coffee house is two blocks away. I guess you could hit it on the way back to your office.”
“I might.” She sniffed. The odors in the room were more conducive to drinking embalming liquid. She glanced at the three bodies under plastic sheets and shuddered. Interesting profession; interesting man. Big Tiny reminded her of that Boston nose tackle Vince Wilfork—she loved him. “I just to want to ask a few questions.”
“Maybe I can anticipate some,” said Big Tiny, taking another sip. “Rafael definitely plugged her with her facing him. That’s consistent with his story. She probably turned to shoot, frying pan in one hand, gun in the other.”
“What was the frying pan for?”
“SWAT guys testified she was using it to protect her face. Maybe a bit narcissistic, huh?”
“Not my call. Probably not yours either. I guess I can call you as a witness if needs be.”
“You probably should consider me as a hostile one,” said Big Tiny, “because of my job. But that’s just semantics. I tell no lies and let the medical evidence speak for itself.” He frowned. “I’m guessing the broad was high on speed or meth, just from her eyes. I need to do a whole chem report on her.”
“Is she here?”
“Her body is,” said Big Tiny with a smile. “Second corpse over. I’m always the man in demand in New York City. Want to see her?”
“I’d rather not. Do we have a name?”
Big Tiny gave her the name—Linda Robertson. “She has a rap sheet longer than War and Peace.”
“That’s only a small text file in today’s pic and video world,” said Jing-Wei.
The ME nodded.
***
Dave Riley, the CSU leader, handed the coffee cup to Jing-Wei. She looked at the oil slick on the surface and her stomach churned. After Big Tiny’s lab, it wasn’t what her stomach needed, but it was probably cheaper than the ME’s. She should have hit his coffee house.
“I can’t imagine where the gun went. The cops in the alley saw the frying pan fly out first, then the body, but they didn’t see a gun. They knew not to move the body, but we didn’t find it on her or beneath her. The SWAT members never saw it, by the way. The other two had multiple weapons.”
“Ortiz said he won the gun battle, firing first, so there wouldn’t be any shells. But did you go over that bedroom thoroughly.”
He frowned. “I know my job. I learned my trade in Philly and now have the respect of the NYPD. I resent the implication.”
“My, aren’t we huffy? I’m Ortiz’ lawyer. It’s a reasonable question.”
“So, he’s too good for a union lawyer? Wish I had his deep pockets? I wonder where all that money came from.”
“And I resent that implication,” said Jing-Wei. “I guess it’s like Ortiz says. He’s guilty until proven innocent. Or, is everyone in NYPD afraid of IA?”
“I don’t care about IA. I only care what the evidence tells me. There’s no gun, so it tells me that Ortiz shot an unarmed woman. Case closed. And that’s the way IA will present it. Tell Ortiz to enjoy his retirement. He’s got the years and, if he needs work to pay off your exorbitant fees, he can become a private dick. That’s the way it works everywhere.”
Unfortunately, that’s true, thought Jing-Wei. “Well, I can tell you don’t like me, so let’s keep this professional. If you have any ideas about where that gun disappeared to, please let me know.”
“I’ll do that, but I’m not going to spend a lot of time thinking about it. I’m way too busy.”
Even to help a fellow cop, added the lawyer.
***
“We have your statement,” said one of the IA agents, looking from Ortiz to Jing-Wei. “Do you have anything to add?” The cop and his lawyer both shook heads in the negative. The agent closed his folder and glanced at his companion. He turned back to face them with a frown on his face. “Considering your record, Rafael, I hate to do this, but we have to move forward with an arraignment and trial. You’re suspended indefinitely until we get through that process.”
“Figures,” said Ortiz. “You do your job and get slammed for it. Just call me Dirty Harry, I guess. Are we through?”
“For now. You know you can’t abandon the New York City area.”
“What about the Jersey Shore? Maybe I want to party a bit at the Stone Pony or ride the roller coaster at Wildwood.”
“Tri-state area is the limit. And make sure your lawyer knows where to find you. Sorry about this.”
“Yeah, I see the tears,” said Ortiz with a growl.
***
“So, where do we stand?” said Ortiz.
Jing-Wei thought a few beats. “I’m not going to kid you. This is tough. In spite of Big Tiny’s testimony, not finding the gun is critical. I guess they did ballistics on yours and proved your gun killed Linda Robertson, right?”
He frowned. “How would I know? I guess they’d need that. The CSU boys know their stuff.”
“I’ll check. I think you should just cool it for a few days. No telling how long they’ll wait for the arraignment, and then there’s the wait for the trial. Justice moves slow. That could work in your favor.”
“If you can call it justice. I swear I saw a gun. You believe me, right?”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe as your lawyer, but if it makes you feel any better, yes. You said the gun was a Glock 9 mm, like standard police issue?” He nodded. “Great gun, that one. I have one myself. A girl can’t be too careful in New York City.”
“Do you carry?”
“I’m not saying. People will even mug you here to steal your gun, you know.”
He nodded.
***
That evening, Jing-Wei watched a scary movie. She didn’t even know the title, but it was a classic and it relaxed her. She read mystery and suspense and watched those kind of movies. Fits the profession, I guess.
She found the wine, cheese, and crackers. Nothing like a sharp cheddar. She smiled as her bird fluttered from her shoulder to her lap and picked at the crumbs. At least somebody benefits from my sloppiness when I’m on a case.
She was about to take another sip, but her hand holding the wine glass stopped in mid-trajectory. The scene in the movie showed the serial killer looking into a cracked mirror. The bloodshot eyes and unshaven and acne-scarred face stared back at him as he gave himself the finger. She laughed, killed the sound, and picked up the phone.
***
“Can I ask the court’s indulgence and request help from one of the bailiffs, please?”
The judge considered. “This is only an arraignment, Counselor Liu. I don’t need any theatrics. Save them for the trial.”
“A bit of theatrics that will maybe shed a lot of light on this case.” She nodded to the grand jury. “We don’t want to waste any more of your time, your honor, or theirs. This case needn’t go to trial. I will prove Mr. Ortiz indeed saw Ms. Robertson with a gun.”
The judge thought a few beats and then nodded to one of the bailiffs standing at one of the exits to the court room. “Mr. Fulton, if you’d be so kind.”
Jing-Wei positioned the man in front of the judge’s dais and handed him a shiny new frying pan. “Mr. Ortiz, is the pan similar to the one Ms. Robertson was holding.”
“Pretty much,” said Ortiz with a bored shrug but wondering if his lawyer had lost her mind. “I don’t know much about frying pans. I don’t cook.”
There were chuckles from a few grand jury members. Most of them were just as bored, especially the ones who thought that even the results of the trial were predictable: just another case of NYPD excesses. The IA was always busy.
“Now, Mr. Ortiz, can you take this toy gun and stand in front of the bailiff at about the distance you were from Ms. Robertson?”
Ortiz looked at the judge. The judge smiled and nodded. Ortiz wondered if the judge was just getting his chuckles for the day. He moved to about ten feet from the bailiff.
“I’d ask Mr. Fulton to raise that pan a bit, maybe covering half his chin.” The bailiff complied. “That’s fine. Now, Mr. Ortiz, crouch a bit, and from your perspective, what do you see?”
Ortiz crouched and then smiled. “The reflection of the toy gun!”
“You have testified under oath that Ms. Robertson’s gun looked like a standard police issue Glock 9 mm, correct?” Ortiz nodded, now standing, gun at his side, but still smiling. “Isn’t that the kind of gun you carry?” Again, Ortiz nodded.
“I rest my case your honor.”
The grand jury, considering there was reasonable doubt that there would be no conviction if the case went to trial, found in favor of the defendant.
***
“Guess I won’t have to retire after all,” said Ortiz afterward in the hall outside the court room. “That was brilliant. Great detective work. No one ever considered that possibility.”
“I did,” said Jing-Wei. “I’m always amazed about what a little bit of cabernet and cheddar will do to stimulate my intuition.”
The IA agent stopped to shake Ortiz’ hand. “I’m glad that worked out for you, Rafael. This is the most unusual case I’ve ever worked on. Congrats to you too, counselor.”
“We still need to catch the suppliers,” said Ortiz.
“There’s time for that now,” said Jing-Wei, touching his arm. “Right now there’s a higher priority. Give Chen and Castilblanco a call and let’s go celebrate at Sardi’s upstairs.”
Ortiz looked at his watch. “Mind if I call Brenda Sue? She’ll be off duty in ten minutes. She’s a nurse at New York Presbyterian.”
Jing-Wei nodded. What the hell? The good guys are always taken.
***
[Note: Any of my ebooks make good summer reading. Even if the one or two you pick are part of a series, they can be read individually. Did you know that I only have one really Big Series so far (apologies to Ed Sullivan—geez, that dates me!)? “Detectives Chen and Castilblanco” + The Golden Years of Virginia Morgan + “Clones and Mutants Trilogy” + Soldiers of God + “Chaos Chronicles Trilogy” covers one huge timeline from an alternate Universe. That timeline goes from 2014 (The Midas Bomb) to Come Dance a Cumbia…(far future) and moves from more conventional thriller/suspense/mystery genres to far-out sci-fi dystopia and thrillers. Except for the Oritz/Ruiz confusion mentioned at the top of this short story, I managed to keep this all straight, but readers can have fun trying to catch me in other errors. Let me know about them, of course. The ebook second edition of Soldiers of God has just been released and leads my readers into…the Chaos! That means the whole timeline is filled with ebooks now. Have an enjoyable summer of reading.]
