Carlos seemed more pushy than usual, I guess that was due to the rain. The LS River was able to handle large amounts of waters, but the body was currently placed on the flat part closest to the water. It would take much more to actually wash the corpse away, but if the body was placed in water for a while, the time of death could be harder to set down precisely.
“Alright, let’s get back to the station and talk to the kids who found the body.” Jim made a hurried dash to the Washington, and waited patiently for me to unlock the car. As we got in, the two tents had been taken down, Carlos had always been efficient, and one of his assistants was now scrubbing the concrete. With the rain like today a corpse wouldn’t leave much of a mark, but even in an enclosed area like the LS River, homicide and forensics had always had the ordeal to “leave as little trace of corpses as possible”, city hall doesn’t want blemishes on their city, though they aren’t exactly keen on removing grafiti and such. In itself, I understood, if someone discovered a pool of blood, they could panic and start to spread rumours. This task had been partly suspended in certain districts, like Davis and Rancho, due to increased gang activity.
“What do we know about the kids, sir?” Jim asked me, and I shrugged. “Not much at the moment, they dialed 9-1-1 and told that they were racing dirt bikes on the bank of the river. Apparently they initially thought the corpse was just a pile of garbage.” Jim nodded, and scribbled some notes down for himself, he was still scribbling when he spoke again, “So… are we pressing charges for trespassing on them?” I shook my head slightly, as the Washington rolled up to the gate. “It’s not up to me or you, talk to the Bulldog if you want to know. We’re homicide, so unless there’s reason to believe that they are suspects in this particular case, it’s an all administrative decision.”
The different parts of the force had always it out for one another, with traffic being lowest of the low. It didn’t make things any better that if there was even a hint of a case belonging to another part, they could essentially just snatch the case away, demand that the current officers shared everything. Then, months later, they’d get the case back, only to find that they would get nothing new from the other department. This wasn’t just collegiate bullying, it came down to spending, as city hall had made some significant changes a couple of years back. Essentially the state would pay per case solved. Naturally, traffic department more or less got the axe, other than speeding and car crashes, they barely had any people in the streets anymore. Their payment were funneled through P&E for the city, over a weekend, it meant that more than three-hundred men and women were told to find different jobs. Not even the Chief, a personal friend of the mayor, and the governor’s cousin’s husband, could stand and defend that idea, but had acknowledge that “this was the new reality, we all have to do ours for the sake of the city.”
Here in homicide, things had always been complex; if there was a married couple or there were kids in the relationship, it was domestic (unless it was fatal, then we got the case AFTER domestic had looked). It was even worse with non-gang related murders, if they happened in or near the gang-heavy districts, we could be pretty sure that they’d send a senior officer to look through what we could find, and from that deduce whether or not it was a case for the gang department. The mayor had been adamant about taking the fight to the gangs, so the gang department of the force all got reinforced cars, buildings, and all got new computers, and lots of other hardware that was brand new.
The rain was still falling without end, as Jim and I shut the doors to the Washington inside the Mission Row parking garage. “Alright Jim, we’re likely going to have the two of them separated, I want you to take one of them. The guys should run the kids through our systems, to see if they are past offenders of something. Use it as leverage, if there is any. Any questions?” I could see that he had taken a decent amount of notes already. It took him a while before he looked up to nod, “Hmm… Well, just one sir; should I mention about how we think he died?” I shook my head slowly, “No… for the time being, it’s better to refer it as an accident, if it’s brought up at all. I reckon they will be more focused on clearing their own name.”
As we got to the interrogation rooms, an officer stood awaiting with two clipboards. He looked new to me, well-ironed uniform, shiny buttons and badge, and his back stiff and straight as a board. From how Jim was following me, with his coat slouched over his arm, I think it was clear to him that I was more than just another cop. “These are the witnesses for the 10-67 in the river?” The greenhorn saluted, but held the clipboards close, “Sir, yes sir, here’s their files.” I grabbed them both, instantly handing one over to Jim. I didn’t look at it at first, instead I took the time to study the new cop. His demeanor was more fitting that of soldier, possibly a reject. “At ease son, this isn’t the army. You can call me Inspector Bates, and what’s your name?” He seemed to automatically click into a more relaxed pose at the order, “Marvin Petterson, sir.” The army habit was still there, those things don’t disappear easily. “Alright Marvin, you’re fairly green on the force, right? Where did you serve before?” Marvin seemed surprised that I could tell that much, despite it being fairly obvious, a junior detective would likely have noticed it, “Fort Zancudo, sir, Ordnance and Munitions Services, sir.” I nodded, it wasn’t unusual that we’d get rejects or lay-offs from Zancudo or the other way around, there was a mutual understanding that, as long as it wasn’t Merryweather, we’d both give a bit of leeway in terms of letting people in. “Good good, now Marvin, you’re going to monitor me and detective Richards as we interview these young kids, obviously interject if we overstep our duties, or intervene if any of them get overly hostile. Other than that, I’d like you to look for any changes in their posing and facial expression. Alright, we all set?” I said the last part a little louder to Jim, who was sifting through the one clipboard.
The kid in the interview room sat with a bored expression on his face, he had time to settle down and be less panicked about being picked up by cops. I had a cup of coffee in the one hand, the clipboard and a can of e-cola in the other, as I entered, the kid seemed to regain interest. “So what, you pigs are going to let me go or what? You can’t just keep me here, I’ve got rights, you know.” I just shook my head slightly, insults and all that, that’s just part of the job, sliding the can towards him, “Hey hey, calm down okay? I just want to know what you and your friend saw.” He still seemed very defensive; this was going to be one of those days, wasn’t it? He crossed his arms, “I’m not telling no pig anything.” I sighed, okay, that was the attitude, no need to play nice anymore then. Slamming my fist down next to the clipboard, I made it bounce into the air a bit, my sudden change of behaviour caught him by surprise, “Listen here, we’re not not the anti-gang unit, this is murder, and I quite frankly don’t give a shit about what colour cap you’re wearing, or the type of shoes you’re using. I got a dead body, and you and your friend was the first ones to find him, so you tell me what you saw, or I’ll throw you into a holding cell for withholding information, are we clear?” Using his slight pausing to get my point across, I took a deliberate sip of my coffee, to let the message sink in. I noticed over the top of the cup, that he seemed to fidget with his hands on the table. An audible sigh came from him, it seemed reason had won out over his anti-authoritarian beliefs, “Alright alright man, shit… I’ll tell you.” I changed my pose to a more open one, giving him a nod to continue. “We were down racing these new Manches, then it started raining like crazy, you know? So we decided to head on home, then PJ almost hit the body. At first we were like, aww shit that was close, but then we saw the blood and like totally freaked. I was like, yo P, we gotta get outta here, but PJ was all it’s a white dude, it ain’t no ganger. So then we called 9-1-1 from PJs phone and waited under the bridge, it was freaky man, like why’s a white dude gotta jump from a bridge like that?” I nodded slowly while listening, taking a slurp of coffee from time to time while he told his story. It sounded true, he didn’t appear to be lying, at least not from what I could tell. “Okay, just a few more questions, and we’re done here. First off, you said that you two used your friend’s phone, why not yours?” He looked to regain some vigor, but it was still a mumbling voice that I couldn’t quite hear, “I’m sorry, come again.” “I’m grounded, okay? My old man got my phone tracked, so if I run with it, he knows.” I had heard of parents going to relatively extreme measures to keep track of their kids, in the case of a kidnapping, it would be smart, but kind of intrusive otherwise. “Okay, last question. The bikes, these Maibatsu Manches, they aren’t registered anywhere, who do they belong to?” The kid looked it pained him, but finally gave in, “It’s my dad and PJ’s uncle that got them, PJ’s uncle stripped them down and was getting new markers. Shit man, I just wanted to test them out, I didn’t want no body right up my grill.”
With that, I finished up the questioning, it would be some time before we could release those kids, as we’d need to confirm as many things as possible, before letting potential suspects slip through our grasps.
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