Cross-Over Murders by Frank F. Atanacio Chapter Three

Chapter Three

The captain of the Bridgeport Police department didn’t realize the danger heading toward the city he was paid to protect and serve until it was too late.
His name was Frank Roque, he was a veteran police captain that prided himself in taking his job seriously. He was a fair man, with values. He cared for his friends and family, and wasn’t afraid to show it. He was a wiry, thin man with graying temples, and freckles. It gave him a boyish look, but nevertheless he was the sculpture of being all man. He was a Star Pilot in Afghanistan, and he served some time in the Gulf War.
For a man in such a high position, he had discovered, much to his annoyance, that he had a unknown streak of sentimentality. Perhaps it was looking into the faces of the desperate refugees he had rescued, or perhaps he just had it in him all the time, and it needed something like refugees to bring it out. Nevertheless it was with him, and he had to live with it.
O’Brien stood over him from the other side of the desk waiting to be recognized. He didn’t want to disturb his captain in any way, but he had to let him know what was going on. Even though he suspected that the captain already knew. Because if the captain didn’t know what was going on in the city, that itself would be unsettling.
“Pete?”
“Captain, I think we may have a serial killer roaming our streets.”
He looked up at O’Brien. “How so?”
“Three dead laborers.”
“Illegal, right?”
“Yeah, North Avenue pick-ups.”
The captain nodded.
“What do we do?” O’Brien asked.
“Pete, feel free to sit,” said the captain as he pointed to some chairs against the wall.
“I’ll stand, thank you.”
“You want to remain taller than me?”
“No sir, I was just sitting all day.”
Inwardly, the captain smiled, outwardly he had on his serious face. “Why do you think it’s a serial situation? Why can’t it be coincidental?”
“Begging your pardon sir,” O’Brien started. “The murders happened three days apart, and all the bodies were dropped off at Wentfield Park. The thing about it sir...”
“Damn pen,” said the captain as he shook his writing instrument. “I paid twenty dollars for this pen , and it stopped working. I should get my money back.”
“The thing about it sir, is that all the murder victims are North Avenue pick-ups. The under the table laborers.”
“I see.”
“That’s what they have in common, sir.”
“Just the three so far?”
“That’s enough, in my book.”
“Yeah, but we’re not looking into your book.”
“Captain, it’s important!”
“I’ll be the one to tell you if this is important or not,” the captain replied. “Is that clear Mr. O’Brien?”
“Yes sir.”
The captain thinly smiled.
O’Brien was annoyed, but he didn’t show it.
The captain sat in silence for a moment, still shaking his writing instrument. He wasn’t ignoring the detective in front of him, he was just assessing the situation at hand.
“It’s important to me captain, that you take this situation seriously. I know you have many other duties to tend to, but I don’t want to have another one of these things get out of hand. We need to stop it now,” said O’Brien all under one breath. “Begging your pardon.”
“And you think I’m not taking this seriously?”
“The thought has crossed my mind.”
“I admit I have tried to let it cross mine, you know, not taking it seriously,” said the captain. “But I give you my word, Pete. I am taking it seriously. I’m considering hiring Nick Barnum to go under cover as a North Avenue pick up. I haven’t put much thought into it yet, but I have been considering it.”
O’Brien grimaced.
“Problem with that?”
“Why Nick?”
“Just free some of our guys up,” the captained explained. “If we want to prevent a series of killings, we need as much men available as possible.”
O’Brien nodded, apparently satisfied. “All right, I think I can accept that.”
The captain shot a glance toward the detective.
O’Brien smiled painfully.
“Good?”
“Yes sir, good.”
“Now we need to pay Nick a visit.”
“You know he’ll do it, sir.”
“But we gotta pay him.”
O’Brien nodded.
“Don’t you agree?”
“Of course captain,” he replied. “How can I not agree?”
“True,” said the captain as he slammed down his pen. “I hate this pen. It looks like one of the best writing instruments on the market, yet I fight with it all morning.”
“Use a cheap one sir,” said O’Brien again feeling annoyed. “They last longer, and you throw it out once the ink runs dry.”
“I’ll consider it,” said the captain. “Thank you.”
“Your welcome, sir.”
“Dismiss,” said the captain.
“Oh captain?’
Roque looked up.
“I’m glad you’re taking this seriously.”
“I’m relieved that I was able to put your mind at ease. And O’Brien...”
“Yes, captain?”
“Believe it or not,” he started. “I’m glad you have the balls to challenge me the way you do. I may not show my concerns, but they’re there, and one hundred percent genuine.”
O’Brien smiled and walked away.
From:http://www.clothes007.com