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|Detroit Police Headquarters||Started by: JamesBaxter on Nov 11, '22 19:12|
I stared at the marble steps of the old, worn-out building for a while before I decided to head in. I had pulled a favor from Detective Rawlings in Chicago, having him put me in touch with someone useful here in Detroit. I certainly was thankful that Rawlings was far more interested in helping out than his cousin, Officer Manhime, in LA.
This was my first time in Detroit. I didn’t know a soul here and most definitely didn’t know my way around the city. Anyone that could even be slightly helpful would be welcomed now.
There was a lull in people filtering in and out so I decided to slip inside then. I probably didn’t have to take such precautions all things considered. No one here knew me. I’d rather be safe than sorry, though. The fewer people that could possibly identify me later, the better.
I checked the slip of paper with the cop’s name, Timothy Walters, and scanned my eyes across the room looking for the nameplate on the scattered desks around the precinct. I finally spotted it tucked into the back corner near the water cooler. Walters was a stout little man with a big bushy mustache, leaning back in his chair, drumming on his desk with a pen as he was on the phone.
I tucked the paper back into my pocket as I made my way over in that direction, “Excuse me, Timothy Walters?”
Dropping the pen, he covered the receiver with his hand pulling it away from his face as he leaned forward, his voice sounding like it was layered with gravel, “Who wants to know?”
”Rawlings over in Chicago told me I should stop by. Not a good time now?”
Walters looked me up and down for a moment before he removed his hand and quickly spoke into the phone, “I’ll call ya back, Abby.” He hung up the phone, “He told me that you might be stopping by. I don’t know how things work out the Chicago way, but this is how things are going to go here. I don’t trust you. Rawlings may be a good guy but I like to base things on my own eyes. Half now, half once everything is all cleaned up. Deal?”
”I get that Detective but, you don’t have to worry anything about all of that.” I slowly reached into my breast pocket, the last thing I needed was a roomful of cops thinking I was pulling out a gun, lifting the envelope, with full payment plus a little more in it out. “It is all here. I’m just passing information along. There isn’t anything to not trust about.”
”A few felonies say otherwise, Mr. Baxter.” He shot back, almost as if he had it in the chamber ready to go.
I leaned in closer, “I can see you did your homework, Detective. I wouldn’t expect anything else. That means you know my tips have always been solid. I’m sure Rawlings told you that. And I’m assuming that you called Manhime to check, as well.” I lowered my voice slightly, “But make no mistake, I did my homework as well. What’s the going rate for a year of schooling at Notre Dame right now? What, fifteen hundred or so? Your son may be a good ball player but he walked on, didn’t he? Not surprised with the size he’s got. Six two, built like a brick house. Walk-ons don’t get scholarships though, do they? Those tuition letters must get to be a bit rough on a Detective’s salary. Especially on top of all the mortgage and everything else. I’m sure that always adds a bit of stress to any situation.” I could see his face growing redder and redder as I spoke but I pressed on anyways, “Nobody wants to see a good kid like that get kicked out of school just because of some cash flow problems, Walters. You help me, I help you. No crossing each other, no drama, none of it. Just someone providing information and someone passing it out. Simple as that. And you will never have to worry about those tuition bills ever again.”
His face eased slightly, there was still a bit of anger underneath but he seemed to be suppressing it pretty well. Like someone who had years of practice at doing just that. He certainly didn’t like me speaking about his son, though. He kept his voice just as low as mine, albeit a bit harsher than my tone, “Yeah, I’ll do this. But get one thing straight, right fucking now. Don’t you ever speak about my son or anyone else in my family ever again. Do you understand me?”
”Absolutely, Detective.” I relented, “Won’t ever hear another word about it from me. Business only. Perfectly fine by me. I’ve got one for ya already, KierstenVOTE_RED left behind some protection in Bricktown. Spread the word. They are there for whoever gets there first. It’d be better sooner rather than later, to be honest. We both know what these guys can get up to when they’re out of work. Nobody needs that headache.”
I reached out my hand, offering Detective Walters a handshake, which he scoffed at for a moment before gripping tightly, “You can call me, Tim.”
“I’ll be around, Detective, er, Tim.” I corrected myself before turning to head out.
|Report Post||Tips: 2 / Total: $40,000 Tip|
Being new in town and all, I didn’t want to push my luck with Detective Walters but after that initial meeting of ours, I got the feeling that as long as I kept payments clean and on time, we wouldn’t have any issues with each other. Besides, I brought a peace offering just in case in the form of a hot cup of coffee from the best joint in town. What self-respecting cop was going to turn down an actual decent cup of coffee?
”Evening, Tim, got ya something.” I placed his down atop his desk. Maybe not my finest moment, admittedly, but I was trying to build trust here, “I heard a little something about that last…thing, already being taken care of. I appreciate it. That’s a job well done.”
Walters didn’t seem all that interested in being handed compliments, “Yea, yea, ya got anything else?” He asked, more businesslike than anything.
I shouldn’t have been surprised, we were treating this just like we would have other transactions in the world, “The rumblings out there are suggesting that BenitoVOTE_BLUE’s former guys are packing up their shit in Corktown. It seems like they are trying to get out of dodge fast. You don’t strike me as someone who passes the buck on, Tim. You’re not going to let this become someone else’s headache. Who knows what trouble they are going to get into on the way to wherever they are going. No telling who they’ll hurt along the way. Think you can help out?”
He thought it over for half a second, “Yes, of course, I can. Make sure the next envelope is a little bigger next time.”
I wasn’t going to argue with him in his house, “You got it, Tim. I’ll see ya around.”
|Reply by: JamesBaxter at Nov 12, '22 00:40|
I had already picked up my train ticket back home to LA but I wanted to swing by the precinct before I left. I was sure things were even-keeled between Detective Walters and myself but it wouldn’t hurt just to check and make sure. After our last conversation, I made sure that the envelope I held in my pocket was heavier than normal. It definitely wouldn’t hurt to keep Waters happy. I was starting to get the vibe that he lean on me any chance he could get.
”Hey, Tim, how are things going?” I kept my voice even.
”Hey, Jim! How ya doing?” He grabbed my hand firmly, taking the envelope through a handshake as discreetly as possible, “Good to see ya, good to see ya. Have a seat.” He motioned to the seat beside his desk. The one that already had one handcuff linked to it.
Hmm, that queasy feeling was back. “Uh, yeah, sure, Detective.” This started to feel a bit formal for my liking but I couldn’t let Walters see me uncomfortable. Business as usual, I told myself but truthfully, I wanted to get out of here as soon as humanly possible at the moment, “No complaints on my end. Things have been running smoothly. Or as smoothly as they can I suppose. I’m not sure how tuned into your narcotics division but AlanVOTE_BLUE’s former employees are gearing up for a big shipment of Barbiturates to Chicago. The word I’m getting is that they’re trading it for some heroin there. I’m sure Detective Rawlings would appreciate it if you could cut the head off of the snake so to speak before things get that far.”
”Yea, yea, of course, Jim. I’ll get the word out.” I got the feeling that he was measuring me up as he paused, “You sticking around town any longer?”
”No, actually I’m not.” I pushed up out of the chair quickly, patting my breast pocket as I did, “Got my ticket right here. No rest for the wicked and all that jazz.” I shook his hand once more, “I’m glad we got to have this little meet-up. Next time I’m in town, I’ll let you know. Thanks for everything, Tim. I appreciate it.”
I turned on my heels before he could say anything. I wanted to get out of here fast.
|Reply by: JamesBaxter at Nov 12, '22 02:05|
Alcestis wanted nothing more than to go home. She needed more money to do that, however, and her options had run dry. She was becoming an expert at grave-robbing, but fresh graves were harder to find when there was a foot of snow on the ground. What she needed now was information, and that's how she found herself standing outside Detroit police headquarters in a thick sweater that was still completely inadequate for a Michigan winter. Hopefully JamesBaxter had worked his magic here.
"I'd like to report a crime." Alcestis wasted no time, picking a desk at random and helping herself to the seat in front of it. A ripple of half-anxiety, half-pleasure coursed through her when she noticed the empty handcuff linked through the arm of the chair she was occupying.
"What's the crime? Miss? Are you alright?" Detective Walters was studying her carefully. Alcestis shook herself out of her reverie and tried to focus on what she was here to do.
"I don't- uhm. Look, I don't want to do paperwork. I'm just going to give you a tip, and I'd like one in return. All I want to know about is recent local interments. Yes, burials. In exchange for that, I'm going to tell you about a bad guy that you, or someone like you, needs to get a handle on before he wreaks further havoc in your city." Alcestis pushed the sleeves of her sweater up, revealing the men's watch she'd bought for Baxter. She'd been wearing it for safekeeping because she simply hadn't run into him since... well.
"Do we have a deal?" She leaned her forearms on his desk, hands folded, and gave him her best shakedown stare.
"What's the tip?" She had him.
"Fitzliam. The Strip, Las Vegas." The two continued to stare at each other for a moment before Walters broke eye contact, reached inside his desk, and pulled out a piece of paper. He handed it over to Alcestis, who unfolded it and took a quick look at the name of the recently deceased.
"Thank you." Without further ado, Alcestis dropped the paper back on his desk, stood up, and left.
|Reply by: Alcestis at Nov 13, '22 17:36|
This probably wasn’t the best place to be, especially with a hit on my head at the moment but truthfully, I didn’t care about that in the slightest. I’m sure it wouldn’t be the last time that I had to hear about it, I might as well get some work done while it was looming above my head.
That same queasy feeling that I always got whenever I stepped into these places popped back up again as I weaved my way through the desk as I made my way toward Walters’ desk.
”Hey, Walters!” I waved my hand, trying to sound as cheery as possible. I doubt it worked though, “How’s everything going?”
”Hey, let me call ya back.” The Detective spoke into the phone before hanging it up and greeting me with a handshake, “Good to see ya, Jim. What can I do for ya?”
I slid the customary envelope to him through the handshake, “Uhm, actually, something a little different this time. I don’t have anything for you right now. I was hoping you’d have something for me.”
”Okay, okay, I’m intrigued.” He crossed his arms as he sat down in his chair which squeaked loudly as he leaned back, “What are you looking for?”
I let out a soft sigh as I sat on the corner of his desk, “I have-“ I caught myself, “I had a friend out in LA. A cop.”
”Manhime.” Detective Walters interjected which caught me completely off guard.
”Oh, you know about that?”
Walters took a deep breath before leaning forward on his chair, causing it to squeak loudly again, “There’s not a lot of us out there. You can call it a brotherhood, I suppose, but-“ he hung his head slightly, “But when something like what happened, happens. We all hear about it pretty damn quickly. So, what do you need?”
It surprised me but, maybe it shouldn’t have. Tom would have had the back of every single person that he worked with, no matter what. Every time I had to stop by the headquarters in LA, I could tell that everyone else had his back as well. It would make sense that that sentiment would stretch across the other cities. Hell, I was even notified about this whole mess by a Philadelphia detective.
”I was pointed out this way by his wife, well I guess widow now.” That stung to say. “She didn’t have any names but she said there might be a few connections out this way. Someone who likes to run with a big crew between here and LA? Any professionals? It was-“ I had to keep the tremble out of my voice, “It was clinical with Tom. Goddamn near surgical. He didn’t stand a fucking chance, Tim.” The tremble in my voice was now replaced with anger and more than a little rage. “Does anything pop?”
”That's-that's not exactly a lot to go on.” He sighed, thinking for a moment, “Here, this is what I’ll do. I’m in the middle of setting up a no-knock for Jake-Rattley in Bricktown. If anyone knows anything in this town, Rattley will be one of them. Give me until the morning, Jim and I will get something out to you.”
”Thank you, Tim. I appreciate it. I know Tom does too.”
The Detective stood up, shaking my hand once more, “We will get this son of a bitch, Jim. One way or another.”
Yea, it was going to be one way. “See ya around, Tim.” Time to go.
|Reply by: JamesBaxter at Nov 16, '22 21:42|
Magpie never liked police stations. Not because of what they represented, a symbol of oppression threatening the livelihood of those like him who operated on the wrong side of the law. No, he accepted that as an inevitable hurdle, a constant reminder to not be sloppy in his misadventures. He disliked them because of how horribly inefficient they were in their operations. Most headquarters were filled with cynical, tenured old men, overworked and underpaid, biding their time till they could claim their pensions.
It was this inefficiency that irked him now that he had been waiting an hour in the lobby. The cold metal chairs, offering little comfort as a lady beside him tried to make idle conversation about her lost family heirloom, as he pathetically gazed ahead. Finally, after what felt like ages, the duty Seargant motioned for him to come over.
Magpie lazily stepped up, wiped the creases in the crisp fabric of his beige suit and greeted the man. "Magnus Pierson. Inmate No. 6748. Michigan State Prison. Released on parole ast Saturday the 14th." His spoke softly, bored of having had to wait, but eager not to ruffle any unnecessary feathers. The officer checked his response against the records and asked him a few basic questions regarding his time since prison.
"I have found employment as a freelance business consultant and am in the process of getting a commercial license. If you know of any suitable places to set up shop, I could use a break." He replied, not expecting any tangible answer and the officer did not surprise him, mumbling something incoherent before asking him if he wished to update his place of residence. "I'm still at the Motor City Hotel, but I am considering moving to the Cadillac apartments. I'll be sure to bring a copy of the lease along with a copy of the license on my next visit if you like."
The man paused and stared at him trying to see if this former inmate was trying to hide his activities behind forged documents, wondering if he should investigate it more thoroughly, but a single glance at the piled up documents on his desk was enough to elicit a weary groan from his lips. He was already buried in paperwork, no sense trying to look a gift horse in the mouth. Nodding his thanks, he warned Magpie not to leave the city till his parole expired .
"I won't" He lied.
Off to the side he saw someone else engaged in a serious discussion and his brow arched in curiosity, before he shook his head as he walked out. It wasn't his business.
Not yet anyway.
|Reply by: MagnusPierson at Nov 21, '22 09:37|
|Report Post||Tips: 1 / Total: $100,000 Tip|
I had planned on avoiding places like this ever since Los Angeles but when the information came across my desk, I didn’t have a choice but to pass it on. It was time sensitive to say the least. In another hour or so it could be completely useless information. I couldn’t let that happen.
Tossing the butt of my cigarette away, I drew in a shallow breath before making my way up the steps of the headquarters. I didn’t know if the incident report had spread and truly had no idea what I was walking into. It could have been a firing squad.
”Well,” I thought to myself as I pushed the front doors open, “Now is as good a time as any.”
I was pleasantly surprised to not even be noticed. I suppose they were all busy dealing with their own cases and issues. I was perfectly fine with that at the moment.
Making my way over to Walter’s desk, I rubbed at my eyes tiredly. The burnout was becoming a real problem now. “Morning, Walters.” I even sounded spent now.
”Oh, hey, Baxter.” The detective stood to greet me, shaking my hand as he did. “Good to see you back in town.”
”Better than home at the moment.” I deadpanned before switching the subject, “I think you’ve got a bit of a problem in Bricktown. The name Annacross mean anything to you?”
”Uh-yes, actually it does. Nasty piece of work. She’s been out of town for a while now, eight months or so. Why do you ask? Is she back in town?” There was a hint of nerves in his voice that I thought I caught him trying to hide.
”That’s what I hear anyways.” I shrugged my shoulders, “I’m guessing that you know it’s not a good thing if she is here. Might be best to take care of it sooner rather than later. It could get messy later.”
“Yea, yea, thanks, Jim.” I could tell that he was flustered a bit, “I’ll get word out. I appreciate it. You’re doing a public service here.”
”Don’t mention it, Tim. I don’t want to have to accidentally run across her. Safer for everybody if she’s off the board.” I shook his hand again, suddenly realizing in my exhaustion that I forgot his payment, “Oh, damn, Tim, I completely forgot. I’ll make it up to you next time.”
”Don’t worry about it this time. I want this one off the streets just as much as you.”
|Reply by: JamesBaxter at Nov 26, '22 15:22|
I hadn’t been to a place like this since that last run-in with Samwell back in LA. I wasn’t sure how well I would be received, to be honest. All of that was one giant mess but I wasn’t sure what rumors had spread. If any of these guys knew I had a hand in one of their fellow officer’s death, I wouldn’t be walking out of here alive.
I lingered for a bit, leaning against the side of the building as I finished my smoke. I wasn’t sure if I should be here or not but, I had to get back into the swing of things eventually. I could spend all of my time bar-hopping across the country. At some point, I had to put all of it behind me. Wallowing in the past wasn’t going to change anything. What’s done was done.
Dropping my cigarette to the ground, I rubbed it out with the heel of my shoe as I patted my pockets down one more time just to be sure I had the envelope on me. Maybe if things went sideways, I could buy my way out of some trouble.
”Well,” I thought to myself as I drew a deep breath in, “Now or never, I suppose.”
I took the steps slowly, slipping in the door as someone was exiting. That familiar, uncomfortable queasy feeling came back as soon as I was inside. I doubted that was ever going to go away.
Peering over the crowd, I spotted Walters on the phone at his desk. No one had thrown me in cuffs or pulled a gun on me yet, “So, that’s a good thing.” I thought to myself.
As I made my way through the crowd, Walters held up his pointer finger when he spotted me, silently telling me to wait as he finished up his call. I took a seat in the chair beside his desk as I waited patiently.
After a moment or two, Walters hung up the phone, “Baxter, hello.” He stated seated but offered me a firm handshake, “We, uh, we all heard about what happened out west. We’re really sorry about all that.” He scoffed loudly, “That bastard Samwell got what he deserved as far as we’re all concerned. Killing his own partner? There’s a special place in hell for men like that.”
”I, uh, yea, thanks.” I stumbled over my words. No matter what I did, no matter where I went, it just kept getting brought up. I changed the subject to matters at hand, albeit a bit awkwardly, “I just got into town but, I’ve heard some rumblings about BlakeVoita holing up in some shitty apartment in Bricktown. He’s gearing up for a major buy. If you can get over there quick enough, there may or may not be a nice little stash of cash, if you catch my drift.” Walters’ eyes lit up at that mention. Tell a dirty cop of a quick score where they can line their pockets and they will run through a wall for it.
”Thank you, Baxter, I appreciate it.” The detective smiled proudly as I could already see the plan forming in his mind.
”Oh, and before I forget again.” I shifted in the seat, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the payment envelope, “This should cover last time as well. Plus a little more for the wait. Thanks for everything, Tim. Pleasure doing business with you as always.” I dropped the envelope on his desk as I stood. “I’ll be seeing you around.”
|Reply by: JamesBaxter at Dec 10, '22 14:08|
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