Snitch by Rene Gutteridge
“Postmodern? We’re barely out of the dark ages,” Ron said and grimaced, thinking of their relic of an organist.
“The denomination makes me take one every year,” Kyle said. “I promise I’ll stay out of your way. I just want to watch what you do.”
“Kyle, all you would be doing right now is watching me fill out paperwork. Lots of it.”
“Oh.” Kyle looked like he’d just heard the news of a relative’s death.
“Besides,” Ron said, trying to keep the conversation light, “isn’t the point of a sabbatical to rest? To spend time connecting with God?”
Kyle sighed. “I do that every morning. And every evening. The most excitement I’ve had all week was when Nan called me and told me you were in the street. Turned out you weren’t, but then I found out you’re an undercover police officer.” He shrugged. “Maybe we can go to lunch sometime. I mean, I know a lot of this stuff is classified, but maybe you can tell me some of it.”
Ron laughed. “Kyle, it’s not classified.”
“I heard that undercover officers work out of a separate office and that the other officers don’t even know where they’re located.”
“That’s to protect our identity. If we’re ever followed, the trail doesn’t lead back to the police department.”
“See! See? That’s what I’m talking about!”
“Look, Kyle, I appreciate your enthusiasm for my work, but you’ve got an important job too. You have an eternal impact. Mine is more of a twenty-to-life kind of deal.”
Kyle’s gaze found the carpet. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Look, why don’t you stay for dinner. I’ll tell you some stories from my undercover days.”
“Really?”
“Sure.”
Kyle stood and pumped Ron’s hand enthusiastically. “Thank you.” He looked at Nan. “And thanks for the dinner invitation.”
“Sure,” she smiled.
Ron led Kyle out to the back patio. “We love eating out here. Make yourself comfortable. What do you want to drink?”
“Do you have iced tea?”
“I’m sure we do. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Ron walked into the kitchen where Nan was chopping vegetables for a salad. She threw up her hands in protest. “I didn’t invite him over. I swear. He was lingering, and I felt trapped. So I asked him what he liked to eat. All I could get out of him was ham sandwiches.”
“He just showed up?”
“About thirty minutes ago.” She opened the fridge, and her voice became quiet. “I got a call today from the eye doctor wanting to know if you would like to pick up your contacts or have them shipped to the house.” She turned to face him and folded her arms. “You’re getting contacts? You haven’t ever worn contacts.”
“The bifocals aren’t helping my image any. You should see the way these guys look at me. I might as well be dead and in a coffin.”
“You think getting rid of your bifocals is going to help? What about that cane? And in case you haven’t noticed, what hair you have left is white.”
Ron sighed and leaned against the counter. “It’s a different world, Nan. Maybe I don’t belong anywhere but behind a computer. I’ve interviewed at least a dozen officers, and still only have three who are willing to work on the task force. Back in my day, any one of us would’ve jumped at a chance to work a case like this. Maybe it’s me. Maybe they take one look at me and wonder if I’m going to make it to the six-month deadline before I croak.”
“Stop it. You’re stealing all my best lines. Please tell me you took your heart medication.”
“I did. But the last thing I need is for them to see me popping heart pills.”
“What about your problem child?”
“Wasn’t interested. Likes working yuppie narcotics cases in Henderson.” Ron took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with ice. “Remember Rodney Beavers?”
“Sure.”
“When I was just starting UC work, Rodney was like a mentor to me. He was in his late thirties, and of course I thought he was over the hill, but he had a ton of experience. I learned some of my best tricks from him. I remember one time we were doing this big buy, and I was posing as the money man. We flew a rented airplane in to meet him, just to make it look like we were rolling in cash. I knew in order to sell the part of a big buyer, I was going to have to verify the product as cocaine. Rodney showed me how to dip one finger into the bag and then lick the finger next to it. It worked perfectly.”
“So does your cholesterol medication, when you take it.” She dropped two pills into his hand and poured him a glass of water.
“These guys don’t want a mentor. They think they already know it all.” Ron swallowed the pills. If he didn’t take the bull by the horns, he would get chased around the ring like a rodeo clown. He sighed again and looked at Nan. “What do we have on our calendar tomorrow?”
She looked at the calendar hanging by the fridge. “You’ve got an appointment with your heart doctor at four thirty.”
“Cancel it.”
Nan turned. “Cancel it? It takes three months to get an appointment.”
“My hearts fine. We’re going shopping.”
Nan’s fists planted against her hips did plenty to express her anger. “Shopping?”
“At Wal-Mart.”
“Wal-Mart? You wouldn’t be caught dead at Wal-Mart.”
“Trust me,” Ron said. “This is going to be fun.” He took Kyle’s glass and started to walk to the back porch.
“What exactly are we getting at Wal-Mart?”
“A glimpse of what the next six months are going to look like.”
“Where are you going?”
“To take Kyle his iced tea and invite him to go shopping with us tomorrow.”
“What?”
Ron smiled a smile he knew would cause Nan to grind her teeth. She hated not being in the loop, but he also knew she would go through the roof if he told her what he was planning.
Ron joined Kyle at the patio table. “It’s a great evening,” Kyle said. “Thanks for inviting me to stay for dinner.”
“Our pleasure, Kyle. You’re our pastor. Like … um … one of the family.”
“You’re kind.”
“Which is why I wouldn’t ask just anyone for this favor.”
“You need a favor? From me?”
“It’s a pretty big one.”
“Please don’t hesitate. What is it?”
“I’d like you to help me train these UC officers.”
Kyle’s mouth trembled with a nervous grin. “You want me to help you train undercover agents?”
“Officers. Yes.”
Kyle was shaking his head with astonishment. “I can’t believe it.” He looked up at Ron. “What do you want me to do?”
Ron lowered his voice, just for effect. “I can’t give you all the details right now. And we’re going to need to keep this to ourselves. Can you be here tomorrow at two?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I want you to pose as an undercover officer I’m recruiting for the task force.”
Kyle thought for a moment. “What should I wear? I’ve got slacks in every color and three pairs of jeans. I could rip a couple of holes in my jeans.”
“Just show up looking like you usually do. No need to destroy any clothing.”
Kyle looked down at his pressed cotton shirt and his tan khakis. “Like this?”
“Yep.”
“You’re sure? Won’t I stick out like a sore thumb?”
Ron smiled. That was the idea.
Chapter 10
Laura liked the stillness of the early morning. She was in her office every day before the sun came up, and she got more work done in those two hours than during the rest of the day. An unexpected knock on the door broke both the silence and her concentration. She looked up to see a young man with earrings, tattoos on his arms, and a severe case of bedhead. “May I help you?”
“Detective Lunden, ma’am,” he
“Yes. What can I do for you, Detective, besides get you some hair gel?”
He blinked, like it was too early to process how he should respond. “May I come in?”
“Sure.”
He closed her door and sat down. “I was invited by Sergeant Yeager yesterday to join a task force called Viper. I work UC in Henderson.”
“That explains the hair.”
“I met Sergeant Yeager. Nice guy. But …”
Laura smiled. “You were expecting someone younger?”
“It’s no knock on him. It’s just that you don’t see someone that old, normally, in that kind of position. I mean, as part of a task force doing undercover work. Did he come out of retirement or something?”
“Sergeant Yeager is about twenty months away from retirement.”
The young man clasped his hands together and looked for the right words. “The truth of the matter is that I would love to work with the Vegas unit. But not in property crimes. No offense, but my life is in narcotics.”
Laura looked down at her desk. She once thought that would be her life too. “I understand, Detective. So why are you here?”
“I thought maybe if I worked this task force, you could put in a good word for me with the Vegas narcotics team.”
“So you want to use this task force as a stepping stone?”
“I would give you everything I’ve got. I wouldn’t just ride the wave.”
“Look, I can’t guarantee you anything.” Laura hardly had any pull with narcotics. They didn’t want her years ago, and they didn’t want her or her opinions now. She caught his eager gaze. “You would do well to work for Sergeant Yeager. I had my pick of a lot of people, and I hand-picked Ron. Doesn’t that make you wonder? It should.”
“I’ve been working undercover for three years.”
“But you haven’t been working for Ron. He’s one of the best. And he did it for nearly twenty years.”
“I’m sure he has a lot of experience, but—”
“Have you ever heard of the Ki Club?”
The detective shook his head.
“You won’t find a trail of paperwork on it, but if you worked in Chicago, you would know about it.”
“What is it?”
“An informal organization that existed almost five decades ago. You didn’t get into the Ki Club unless you did a buy for a kilo or more of cocaine.”
The young man shrugged. “That’s terrific. I’ve done a lot of deals for a kilo of cocaine.”
Laura leaned on her desk. “Let me guess. All of those deals were controlled buys done by an informant, or repeated buys by you. You developed sufficient probable cause, obtained a search warrant, executed it, and when you searched the location, you found the drugs you were looking for.”
“Sure. That’s how it’s done.”
“The only way to get into the Ki Club was to do a hand-to-hand deal for a kilo of cocaine. Have you ever done a hand-to-hand deal for that much, Detective?”
He shook his head.
“Once you were in the Ki Club, you were assigned the bigger cases and you were working with some of the best around. Sergeant Yeager was in the Ki Club.” Laura folded her hands together and looked directly into Detective Lunden’s eyes. “You strike me as a guy who didn’t go into police work for the pay or the pension. You love what you do.”
He nodded.
“You have ambition. I can understand that. I had ambition too. But if you join this task force, Detective, I want you on board a hundred percent. You give me six months of your undivided attention. Period. After that, you can follow the job leads wherever they take you.”
He stared down at the carpet.
“We could use a talented officer like you,” she added.
That sealed the deal.
Jesse sat in his truck outside the Wal-Mart Super Center, clutching a white envelope that read, DO NOT OPEN UNTIL YOU’RE IN THE PARKING LOT. As if he didn’t have reservations before, now he was on some kooky assignment.
He turned off his engine, tore open the envelope, and pulled the piece of paper out.
YOU HAVE TWO HOURS TO IDENTIFY THE FOUR OTHER MEMBERS OF YOUR TEAM WITHOUT BEING DISCOVERED. AT THE END OF THE TWO HOURS, WRITE DOWN THE DESCRIPTIONS OF THE PEOPLE YOU THINK ARE YOUR FELLOW OFFICERS. THEN RETURN TO 1159 FOSTER DRIVE BY 5:30 P.M.
Great. So this was what he was in for—stupid games and Undercover 101.
Jesse sighed and decided there wasn’t much use complaining since he would be the only one to hear the complaint. He got out of his truck and went around to the back, where he opened a new container of socks. Since this was just training, he chose white. There was no point in wasting the clearly superior luck of colored socks on training. He peeled off his old socks, pulled the tag off the new ones, and put them on. He slipped into his tennis shoes, laced them tightly, then went back to the cab of his truck. Reaching inside the console that sat between the two front seats, he grabbed the bullet he kept there and rolled it between his hands three times. Then he positioned his framed picture of Elvis so it faced him. “Here it goes,” Jesse said, knocking knuckles on the glass.
Jesse tossed the instructions on the seat, shut the truck door, and trudged forward. He checked his watch as the doors swooshed open. He was greeted by a voice announcing sales on bananas and Hanes underwear. An old woman, clutching smiley-face stickers and wearing a blue vest, rolled a shopping cart toward him.
“Anybody walk through these doors within the last few minutes and not ask for a cart?” Jesse asked.
The woman pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Sir, hundreds of people walk in and out of these doors in an hour.”
“But you didn’t notice anyone specifically not take a cart?”
Her greeter cheer diminished. “Is there something you need, like an aisle number or the location of the restrooms?”
This woman wasn’t going to be helpful. But a shopping cart might—especially a two-seater for children. “I just need that cart,” Jesse said. “The one that holds kids.”
Granny Greeter looked him up and down. “Where are your kids?”
“Uh … parking the car?”
“This cart is for mothers with children, especially wily ones. They have the straps to belt them in so they can’t run around the store.”
“My wife’s meeting me here. With our two kids, who will probably be on a sugar high from the party they just finished.”
She looked suspicious. “What are your children doing out of school?”
“They’re homeschooled. Now, may I have the cart?”
“Your wife is welcome to come get the cart when she arrives, as long as she has the kids.” She glanced at his hand. “No wedding ring?”
“Had to sell it to pay the kids’ dental bills.”
“Right.”
Jesse sighed and grabbed a regular cart, rolling it away from Keeper of the Carts. He grabbed a few packages of diapers and other random items so he would look like he was actually shopping. He figured he would start on a main aisle and then formulate his plan.
As he passed the small appliances section, he thought about yelling, “Gun!” Everyone but a cop would run screaming for the door. A cop would run toward the chaos.
He opted against this approach, imagining the stampede of innocent customers and injuries and lawsuits. He decided to wander each aisle and look for people who didn’t seem the least bit interested in shopping. A man walking with his hands stuffed in his pockets and no cart. Someone standing at a clothing rack but looking elsewhere.
Forty minutes passed quickly. Jesse pulled his cart out of the hair accessories aisle. He had been distracted by the extensive selection of gels when he noticed a man passing the aisle. The man had medium-dark skin, blond hair, and plenty of tattoos. When Jesse caught up to him, he was admiring a pink infant dress and glancing around suspiciously like he might just shoplift it. Jesse smiled. Bingo. He would bet his lucky socks this guy w
He went through the automotive area but didn’t see anything unusual. He wondered why he hadn’t run into Dozer when he suddenly spotted him in the video game section … playing a video game.
“What are you doing?” Jesse asked, stepping up beside him.
Dozer glanced at his cart, then returned his attention to the game. “Diapers. Nice touch.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be looking for the other UC cops?”
“Yeah. Did that for a while. Got bored. This kid finally stopped playing, so I jumped on it. This is that new Xbox 360 game I was telling you about.” His thumbs were flying fast over the buttons as a dragon breathed fire over an entire village. “Yes!”
“Dozer, seriously. You’re not going to stand here and play video games, are you?”
“Look, I wandered around for almost an hour and all I noticed was a store full of weird people wandering around. I mean, this assignment might be easy at Macy’s, but at Wal-Mart, you’ve got every kind of person in the world.”
“I think that’s the idea, Dozer,” Jesse said, removing the joystick from his hands. “Come on, we’ve gotta finish this. We’ve got less than an hour. There is no way I’m going to let some other guy beat me.”
Dozer looked longingly at the video game. “Thanks a lot. The wizard just got incinerated.”
Suddenly, a distraught young woman near the photo lab desk caught Jesse’s attention. She was gesturing toward the back of the store.
“I can’t find her anywhere!” she said to the clerk.
Dozer glanced at Jesse, and they both walked closer.
“The last time I saw her, she was near the bathroom.”
The photo lab tech picked up the phone and started dialing.
“Ma’am?” Dozer asked. “Are you okay?”
“Have you lost a child?” Jesse asked. If so, they would need to monitor the front doors immediately.
“No,” she said, her voice trembling, “it’s my grandmother. Gammy. She went off to use the restroom. I went to look at a magazine, and then she didn’t come out for a long time, so I went to check on her and she wasn’t there.” She looked around, panicked. “I don’t know what to do. She’s got a bad memory. Not Alzheimer’s, at least they don’t think so. But she’s forgetful and sometimes gets lost, which is why”—tears welled in her eyes—“Mom asked me to go with her to Wal-Mart. Last time Gammy went alone, she couldn’t find her car.”