Next of Kin

Chapter Fourteen: 56%

Fourteen, 56%

I made it into the lobby before a man with slicked back hair found me. “Conrad, right?” he asked. I nodded, and he put out his hand. “I'm Detective Martens. I'm, I guess you could call me a liaison with the DCA. But I work with IA. My colleague, Detective Chase, was kind enough let me know you were going to be dropping by.”

Chase saw the both of us talking from his desk, flipped us the finger, and smiled.

“He's a retarded child,” Martens said. “I'd like to take you into one of the old interrogation rooms. There aren't a lot of quiet, discreet places to talk. But that's one of them.”

He took a few steps, then glanced behind to make sure I was following him. “You think you want a coffee, some water?”

“I think I'm all right,” I said.

“Okay.” The door opened up in front of him, and I followed him inside.

He took the side with his back to a mirror. There was only one other chair, on the opposite side. I sat down.

“How's your investigation going?” he asked.

“Two viable suspects, so far,” I said.

“I thought you IDed a man at the scene,” he said.

“Jim was there. He doesn't deny it. All I've got is Jim at the scene, but not necessarily when it mattered. And him being there doesn't mean somebody else didn't come, too. But it's looking like I might have to look into John's underworld contacts. His friend, slash partner, says they were caught in the middle of a turf war.”

“What's your read?” he asked.

“I kind of have trouble with motive for the girlfriend. She seemed to be carrying a flame, and be hopeful it would still work out. I know John well enough not to be so optimistic, but I believed her, for what that's worth.”

“The other” Martens asked.

“His partner? He's a criminal by his own admission, so just about everything with him is suspect. He was with him the night he died. He claims he left him alive after an argument.”

“Did you think about bringing him in?”

“I was interrogating him in a dead zone.”

“Ah. What do you think about that?”

“Well, smugglers spend a lot of their time in dead zones.”

“You don't think he maybe went to ground in the dead zone?”

“I don't think that proves much of anything. If my partner turned up dead, I'd go to ground, too; doesn't mean he killed him.”

“Fair enough.”

“Why all the interest in my brother? He was a low-level drug smuggler, maybe a bit of dealing on the side.”

“Your brother was part of an open Internal Affairs investigation.”

“Investigation into what, exactly?”

“We've suspected for some time that someone from within the police department is behind drug smuggling within the city. We've even tracked some of the drugs from the evidence lock-up back out onto the streets.”

“And what does that have to do with John?”

“He was working,” he stopped himself, “I can't really comment who he was working for.” Even saying that much made him uncomfortable. “Police override.” All of the DCA components in my interface disappeared; he gave it a moment to make sure all of the cameras disconnected, as well, then leaned forward, and said in a conspiratorial voice. “Here's the thing. There are parts of your brother's investigation that we can't discuss with a member of the public- not even an advocate like yourself. The information is sensitive; it could hamper the investigation, possibly put the rest of our undercovers in danger.” The rest? That raised my hackles further. He wasn't so much as hinting at the idea, as slapping me in the mouth with it. He wanted me to think John was an undercover cop without saying it- which all but guaranteed that he wasn't.