Vertical Coffin (2004) by Stephen - Scully 04 Cannell
Authors: Stephen - Scully 04 Cannell
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finally at the Acropolis restaurant in the Valley, sitting at a patio table, but our plates of moussaka were untouched and cooling as we argued.
"Honey, if I don't start there I won't even know what questions to ask."
"You've only got two, or possibly three outcomes. Either ATF knew about the automatic weapons and C-four in that house, withheld information critical to the safety of the deputy serving the warrant, and they're lying, or they shared the information with the sheriff's warrant control office like they said, and the sheriffs are lying."
"What's the third?" I asked, because I sure couldn't see it.
"ATF was just on their way back from a training day like they claimed, and heard the shoot-out on the radio and nobody's lying."
"They couldn't hear it without that TAC frequency in their truck."
"Right. And you can't prove it's not there, because you can bet by now that truck has the frequency installed. Besides, you didn't have a warrant to search the damn thing."
"Picky, picky, picky."
"Hey, Shane, no kidding. You're on the wrong path here. Vincent Smiley isn't the problem."
"He had a dog--a Rottweiler, and the sheriffs didn't find the remains."
"So what?"
"It's a loose end. I don't like loose ends."
"It's nothing."
"If he had boxes of C-four, where did he get them? It's so regulated by the government there's not even a black market for that stuff."
"I don't know Shane, but it's not what you're supposed to be investigating."
"He wore Kevlar and built a bomb shelter. He was hacked into a secure military computer called Cactus West. People who wear Kevlar and build bomb shelters do it because they want to stay alive. I don't think Smiley was trying to get the cops to kill him."
"We have death-by-cop suicides wearing body armor all the time. Look at the North Hollywood bank shoot-out. Those guys knew they were gonna die. Smiley built his bomb shelter almost ten months ago. Things change. Maybe he took a bad hit of acid. Maybe he was dusted on PCP and went off the rails. Look, the only reason LAPD is on this thing in the first place i s b ecause the ATF shooting review cleared their SRT, and the mayor thinks it's a bad finding. Stick to that."
"If it's a bad finding, then give it to our Professional Standards Bureau." Our new, media-friendly name for Internal Affairs. "They're good at scoping out OIS mistakes." I continued. "What the hell am I doing with it anyway?" I was raising my voice a little, and the people at the adjoining tables were beginning to look over at us with annoyed expressions.
"I can't give it to Professional Standards. It's not an LAPD shooting. And you're the only one Bill Messenger will accept. Don't make it more than it is. Just do the job."
"Is the moussaka not to your liking?" the maitre d' asked. He had drifted over to our table, displaying an elegant presence. His manner and tone made it clear that he thought we were destroying the restaurant's classic ambience.
"It's fine," I snapped.
"Bag it," Alexa barked.
The maitre d' waved a waiter over. He cleared the plates while both of us tried to calm down. After he left I leaned toward her and lowered my voice. "Alexa, you've been a cop for almost as long as I have."
"Are we gonna start comparing pedigrees now?" she hissed.
"In all those years, how many times have you seen somebody who wants to be a cop start by filing applications with the Arcadia P . D .?"
She was silent for a long time. "So?" she finally said.
"So, my guess is that Smiley started out by applying to the LAPD or the sheriff's department, then, once he failed those entrance requirements, he worked his way down the list to the smaller departments. Santa Monica, Pasadena, Glendale, Arcadia."
"Again, so what?"
"Since Arcadia wouldn't give us their psych package on him, how about we look in our own academy apps? We do preliminary psychological tests. Maybe he's in there."
"Why do you keep coming back to him? For God's sake, Shane, do you think he's still alive
"Honey, if I don't start there I won't even know what questions to ask."
"You've only got two, or possibly three outcomes. Either ATF knew about the automatic weapons and C-four in that house, withheld information critical to the safety of the deputy serving the warrant, and they're lying, or they shared the information with the sheriff's warrant control office like they said, and the sheriffs are lying."
"What's the third?" I asked, because I sure couldn't see it.
"ATF was just on their way back from a training day like they claimed, and heard the shoot-out on the radio and nobody's lying."
"They couldn't hear it without that TAC frequency in their truck."
"Right. And you can't prove it's not there, because you can bet by now that truck has the frequency installed. Besides, you didn't have a warrant to search the damn thing."
"Picky, picky, picky."
"Hey, Shane, no kidding. You're on the wrong path here. Vincent Smiley isn't the problem."
"He had a dog--a Rottweiler, and the sheriffs didn't find the remains."
"So what?"
"It's a loose end. I don't like loose ends."
"It's nothing."
"If he had boxes of C-four, where did he get them? It's so regulated by the government there's not even a black market for that stuff."
"I don't know Shane, but it's not what you're supposed to be investigating."
"He wore Kevlar and built a bomb shelter. He was hacked into a secure military computer called Cactus West. People who wear Kevlar and build bomb shelters do it because they want to stay alive. I don't think Smiley was trying to get the cops to kill him."
"We have death-by-cop suicides wearing body armor all the time. Look at the North Hollywood bank shoot-out. Those guys knew they were gonna die. Smiley built his bomb shelter almost ten months ago. Things change. Maybe he took a bad hit of acid. Maybe he was dusted on PCP and went off the rails. Look, the only reason LAPD is on this thing in the first place i s b ecause the ATF shooting review cleared their SRT, and the mayor thinks it's a bad finding. Stick to that."
"If it's a bad finding, then give it to our Professional Standards Bureau." Our new, media-friendly name for Internal Affairs. "They're good at scoping out OIS mistakes." I continued. "What the hell am I doing with it anyway?" I was raising my voice a little, and the people at the adjoining tables were beginning to look over at us with annoyed expressions.
"I can't give it to Professional Standards. It's not an LAPD shooting. And you're the only one Bill Messenger will accept. Don't make it more than it is. Just do the job."
"Is the moussaka not to your liking?" the maitre d' asked. He had drifted over to our table, displaying an elegant presence. His manner and tone made it clear that he thought we were destroying the restaurant's classic ambience.
"It's fine," I snapped.
"Bag it," Alexa barked.
The maitre d' waved a waiter over. He cleared the plates while both of us tried to calm down. After he left I leaned toward her and lowered my voice. "Alexa, you've been a cop for almost as long as I have."
"Are we gonna start comparing pedigrees now?" she hissed.
"In all those years, how many times have you seen somebody who wants to be a cop start by filing applications with the Arcadia P . D .?"
She was silent for a long time. "So?" she finally said.
"So, my guess is that Smiley started out by applying to the LAPD or the sheriff's department, then, once he failed those entrance requirements, he worked his way down the list to the smaller departments. Santa Monica, Pasadena, Glendale, Arcadia."
"Again, so what?"
"Since Arcadia wouldn't give us their psych package on him, how about we look in our own academy apps? We do preliminary psychological tests. Maybe he's in there."
"Why do you keep coming back to him? For God's sake, Shane, do you think he's still alive
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