this.
"What the hell happened, Josh?" Brennan asked.
Josh told the Chief what he knew.
Brennan waved for Sergeant Armstrong to come over, Chubby in tow. "Listen to me, gentlemen," Brennan said. "This means you too, Chubby," grabbing the man's arm, stopping his waving to the gathering media. "I am going to try to put a lid on this. We need to keep this out of the news until we figure out what's going on."
"How we gonna do that, Chief?" Armstrong asked. "You know some asshole in the PD is gonna try to win points by giving them the story."
"Here's how," Brennan said. "I'll tell them it was a carjacking gone bad. The two guys on the bike tried to steal Keira's car and she managed to get away. We let them know one of them was a gang banger. They'll buy that. The problem is controlling the story about our dead mystery man. We'll just have to keep a tight hold on anything we find out until they lose interest. Any ideas?"
"Let's make Chubby the hero," Josh said. "He did stop them. Let them focus on our friend here until something else happens."
"Hmm, that might work. We can hope for a murder in Providence or a State Senator getting locked up for drunk driving to draw their attention away," Brennan said. "Okay, I'll deal with this. You two go figure out what the hell happened here."
The Chief turned to Chubby. "Chubby my boy, you are about to have your fifteen minutes of fame. But I need you to remember something."
"What's that?" Chubby said, the smile covering his whole face.
"You keep to this story," Brennan said. "You heard the scanner about the motorcycle chasing Keira, that they tried to steal her car and had a gun, and you were trying to block them from catching her. Is that clear?"
Chubby looked confused.
"Is there a problem, Chubby?" the Chief asked.
"Ah, no. I mean, what else would I say?" Chubby replied.
Josh and Armstrong chuckled.
Brennan shook his head, "That's my boy. You have police supervisor material in you, if you ever pass the physical. Come on. Let's go meet your adoring fans."
Armstrong and Josh watched as the two headed toward the cameras, Chubby raising his hands like a champion boxer.
Then they started trying to put the pieces together.
Josh looked at Armstrong. "This is quite the little mess, isn't it?"
"I'm glad Chubby took 'em out. I just washed my cruiser," Armstrong laughed. "And, it's less paperwork for me."
The results of the investigation, one unidentified dead guy and one living MS-13 gang member. The gang banger no longer had two feet to stand on with his 'some assembly required' leg. They also recovered an unusual handgun none of them recognized, with no serial numbers and of an unknown make and caliber.
What they had, in Sergeant Armstrong's words, was a giant nightmarish shit show.
The Medical Examiner, Dr. Edwin Porter, arrived and began processing the body. One of his latest toys was a live-scan fingerprint system equipped with a secure link to the FBI database.
The ME lifted the right hand and scanned each finger. He tried to do the same with the left hand. Two of the fingers no longer bore enough tissue, so he settled for the thumb and two remaining fingers.
A short time later, the preliminary inquiry produced no match.
"I'll run a more in-depth database query when we do the autopsy," Dr. Porter said. "Sometimes we get lucky with military or foreign data."
"Military? Foreign?" Josh asked, as he and Armstrong looked at the ME.
"My guess is he's Latvian or Ukrainian by the tattoos on his neck and what’s left of his hand." The medical examiner smiled, "Won't be counting to ten anymore."
Josh watched as the ME bagged the man's fingers.
W hat the hell is going on? This doesn't happen here. This is East Providence, not New York.
Chapter 2
One month earlier
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
8:00 AM
East Providence, Rhode Island
Josh walked into his office. Before he had a chance to sit down, the phone started ringing.
"What the hell happened, Josh?" Brennan asked.
Josh told the Chief what he knew.
Brennan waved for Sergeant Armstrong to come over, Chubby in tow. "Listen to me, gentlemen," Brennan said. "This means you too, Chubby," grabbing the man's arm, stopping his waving to the gathering media. "I am going to try to put a lid on this. We need to keep this out of the news until we figure out what's going on."
"How we gonna do that, Chief?" Armstrong asked. "You know some asshole in the PD is gonna try to win points by giving them the story."
"Here's how," Brennan said. "I'll tell them it was a carjacking gone bad. The two guys on the bike tried to steal Keira's car and she managed to get away. We let them know one of them was a gang banger. They'll buy that. The problem is controlling the story about our dead mystery man. We'll just have to keep a tight hold on anything we find out until they lose interest. Any ideas?"
"Let's make Chubby the hero," Josh said. "He did stop them. Let them focus on our friend here until something else happens."
"Hmm, that might work. We can hope for a murder in Providence or a State Senator getting locked up for drunk driving to draw their attention away," Brennan said. "Okay, I'll deal with this. You two go figure out what the hell happened here."
The Chief turned to Chubby. "Chubby my boy, you are about to have your fifteen minutes of fame. But I need you to remember something."
"What's that?" Chubby said, the smile covering his whole face.
"You keep to this story," Brennan said. "You heard the scanner about the motorcycle chasing Keira, that they tried to steal her car and had a gun, and you were trying to block them from catching her. Is that clear?"
Chubby looked confused.
"Is there a problem, Chubby?" the Chief asked.
"Ah, no. I mean, what else would I say?" Chubby replied.
Josh and Armstrong chuckled.
Brennan shook his head, "That's my boy. You have police supervisor material in you, if you ever pass the physical. Come on. Let's go meet your adoring fans."
Armstrong and Josh watched as the two headed toward the cameras, Chubby raising his hands like a champion boxer.
Then they started trying to put the pieces together.
Josh looked at Armstrong. "This is quite the little mess, isn't it?"
"I'm glad Chubby took 'em out. I just washed my cruiser," Armstrong laughed. "And, it's less paperwork for me."
The results of the investigation, one unidentified dead guy and one living MS-13 gang member. The gang banger no longer had two feet to stand on with his 'some assembly required' leg. They also recovered an unusual handgun none of them recognized, with no serial numbers and of an unknown make and caliber.
What they had, in Sergeant Armstrong's words, was a giant nightmarish shit show.
The Medical Examiner, Dr. Edwin Porter, arrived and began processing the body. One of his latest toys was a live-scan fingerprint system equipped with a secure link to the FBI database.
The ME lifted the right hand and scanned each finger. He tried to do the same with the left hand. Two of the fingers no longer bore enough tissue, so he settled for the thumb and two remaining fingers.
A short time later, the preliminary inquiry produced no match.
"I'll run a more in-depth database query when we do the autopsy," Dr. Porter said. "Sometimes we get lucky with military or foreign data."
"Military? Foreign?" Josh asked, as he and Armstrong looked at the ME.
"My guess is he's Latvian or Ukrainian by the tattoos on his neck and what’s left of his hand." The medical examiner smiled, "Won't be counting to ten anymore."
Josh watched as the ME bagged the man's fingers.
W hat the hell is going on? This doesn't happen here. This is East Providence, not New York.
Chapter 2
One month earlier
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
8:00 AM
East Providence, Rhode Island
Josh walked into his office. Before he had a chance to sit down, the phone started ringing.
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