Collision Course (A Josh Williams Novel) Read online

  "Well, Kenny," Tanya Tits said, "you couldn't very well do that in jail, could you sweetie?” Her voice a combination of pre-pubescent little girl, post-surgical throat cancer survivor, and hangover mixed with an obvious limitation of intellectual ability. On the positive side, Josh received two good pieces of information to work with, although the fact of Andre being in the joint at some point was obvious to anyone who dealt with their type.

  Junkieman smiled and kept looking into his glass with occasional glances at the breasts of Tanya Tits.

  Josh finished his drink, ordered another one, told the bartender he would be right back, and walked out onto Thayer Street.

  Andre did not look like the type to walk far. It took Josh two minutes to find the car parked on Meeting Street.

  One quick little slice with the knife and the valve stem was rendered useless. A slow leak that would take an hour or so before the tire even looked low. The spring loaded automatic nail punch working its magic on the corner of the windshield, starting a small but persistent series of cracks that would grow as the car was jacked up to replace the flat tire.

  Josh returned to the bar and continued his observations.

  Andre took a call. A short time later, a young Brown University student walked in. He handed Andre an envelope and Josh watched him start counting money.

  Shit, a fucking drug deal, now what the fuck do I do?

  Andre smiled, looked around the table, and announced, "Dinner and drinks at the best place I can find,” reaching into his pocket, handing the car keys to the excited young man. "Enjoy the car kid; it’s one block up on Meeting."

  "Oops," Josh thought, "I must be slipping, never saw that coming."

  Tanya Tits announced that she wanted a lobster at the Biltmore, to which Andre replied “Biltmore? You’se is a weiner broad, fuckin' lobster, this bitch is nuts, eh?" Looking at Junkieman for support.

  "I ain't taking you to no nice fucking place; I got real bitches for that."

  Not that Josh held any particular sympathy for Tanya, but even she deserved better treatment. It gave him more incentive for revenge.

  Josh caught up to the kid as he got to the car. "This yours?"

  The kid was startled. "Ah yeah, just bought it"

  "Did you get a bill of sale?"

  "No, well, yeah, kind of, why do you care?"

  "I am with the State Police,'' flashing his badge so the kid couldn't see who he really was, "we believe this car is stolen."

  "What? No way, I just bought it. The guy advertised on a flyer around campus."

  "Hmm, and you can't imagine anyone would sell a car that way if it was stolen? Look, kid, I know you didn't know. Go back and get your money, if he gives you a hard time, tell him the State Police are waiting."

  The kid ran back toward the pub, a short time later he came out followed by Andre. The kid, envelope in his hand, pointed up the street. Andre started toward the car and then hesitated, looked around, and went back inside. A moment later Tanya Tits came out and went to the car.

  'What a fucking hero," Josh thought. "Send the big-titted airhead and maybe the cops will cut her some slack."

  Not a bad strategy.

  Tanya got to the car, looked around, and got in. She drove around the block and pulled up to the front door. Junkieman came out, followed by Andre. As Andre went around to the driver's side and opened the door, one of those fortuitous moments occurred.

  These kind of things happen by pure coincidence.

  No one could plan it.

  A Rhode Island State Police cruiser came down Thayer Street. The trooper sightseeing the pretty college girls, but it did not matter.

  Tanya saw the trooper and panicked. She put the car in reverse instead of park and stepped on the gas as she tried to slide over to the passenger seat. The GTO screamed backward, taking Andre and Junkieman with it.

  The trooper never saw it coming.

  As the vehicle accelerated, the rear end hit the front of the cruiser and pushed it into three other parked cars. Andre was now the meaty center of a Pontiac and BMW sandwich. Junkieman was a hood ornament on a Lexus. Tanya, to her credit, tried to be helpful and take control of the situation. However, on reflection later in the hospital, she would realize that shifting from reverse to drive put the focus of the action in a different direction, not for the better.

  The GTO, firmly attached to the push bumper of the State Police cruiser, once again put on a convincing demonstration of its reputation as a muscle car.

  In a scene later described as like a horror movie, the GTO dragged the State Police cruiser, the incredulous trooper still in the driver's seat, Tanya Tits, most of Andre's jeans, and several outdoor tables from Andrea's, an impressive 675 feet down Thayer Street coming to a stop at the exit of the bus tunnel.

  In his interview with the Accident Reconstruction team, the RIPTA bus driver that executed the coup d'état on the remains of the GTO, said he thought he drove onto a movie set.

  Josh hid out in the men's room when the cops came looking for witnesses. He was able to enjoy watching, and hearing, Andre as they extracted him from his metal cocoon, Junkieman placed onto a gurney that collapsed, turning the simple leg fracture into a compound one, and the outrage on the trooper's face as he looked at the remains of his cruiser.

  Josh considered the outcome a rousing success.

  Chapter 34: Angel’s Embrace

  Josh never drove the Mercedes. It was Keira's car. Cops do not drive Mercedes, they stop them.

  Fuck it, she wants me out, well I am out, I have had it. I am not perfect like all your damn lawyer friends; I am never going to be good enough----let’s see how fast this motherfucker will go.

  Sergeant Michael Gabriel "Angel" Armstrong watched the Mercedes go by. He headed north on the Parkway, expecting to find the car into the wall at Asquino’s Corner

  He was not disappointed, and then he recognized the car.

  Angel ran up to the Mercedes and looked at Josh. "What the fuck Josh, what were you doing?"

  Josh stumbled, he fell down, got up, tried to focus on Angel. “Sarge help me roll this motherfucker over, I want knock that fucking tree down."

  "Josh come on man, I will take care of this, son you need to slow down…."

  Grabbing the shoulder microphone, he called dispatch. “S1 have 101 and 103 meet me at Asquino’s Corner on the parkway.”

  Dispatch put out the call.

  The two young cops pulled up. Angel was walking a guy toward them; they recognized Josh and looked at each other, helpless.

  Angel looked at them. “Put him in the car, take him to my house, do you think you dumb asses can find that if I write down the address? Here are the keys, don't fucking lose them, got it?"

  "Sure Sarge, want me to radio for a tow truck?"

  "Did I ask you to do that?, Do I look incapable of doing that myself you diaper wearing, tit-feeding, piece of whale shit, did I?"

  "Ah, no, but I thought that…."

  "Stop right there, we do not pay you to think, we do not trust you to think, you just follow my directions to the fucking letter, got it?"

  "Yes Sergeant."

  "Then drive him to my house, now. Put him in the spare room. That will be the room where my wife is not sleeping. If you wake her up, or in any other way fail to follow my directive, I will skin you both."

  The officers just nodded.

  "Is there any part of this you do not understand?"

  Both officers looked at each other and shook their heads,

  "Good, get the fuck going."

  Then Angel made two calls, one to Eddie's Towing on the special number and one to his wife.

  Eddie's would take care of the car and his wife would scare the shit out of the two young cops so they would not dare share the story with anyone.

  Chapter 35: Indiscretion

  "Jeannie, what's the harm?" Steve Harris said, knowing that Jeannie Cavanaugh could not resist. "It's only a minor document, means nothing, just a notice for God's s
ake, come on." Handing her the document, “It’s no big deal.”

  Cavanaugh took the paper, looked around the office, reset the stamp to the preceding day, and marked the document as received as of the previous day's close of business.

  "If anyone finds out about this, Steve, I can lose my job," she said, looking around again.

  "How can anyone find out? It's only you and I. Jeannie we have known each other for years. I would never put you in jeopardy. If anyone were to ask, you can say you overlooked it during the logging process. No one will question you."

  Jeannie took the document, made an entry into the daily document filing system indicating an oversight, and put the document into the appropriate case file.

  "Thanks Jeannie. Let me buy you lunch next week sometime," winking as he walked to the door. Harris turned back to look at Jeannie, smiled again, and headed out of the office.

  Jeannie hesitated for a moment, sat down at her desk, and picked up the phone. The son-of-a-bitch thinks I am stupid. He will never call me for lunch, she thought, as the line began ringing.

  "US Attorney's Office, how may I direct your call?" a pleasant voice answered.

  "Yes this is Jeannie Cavanaugh. I am a clerk in the US District Court; may I please speak to Mr. Collucci?"

  "One moment please, I will see if he is available."

  Waiting on the line, Jeannie took time to consider what she was doing. Mr. Collucci was trying to clean up the system. I know this is the appropriate thing to do.

  A new voice on the line interrupted her thoughts.

  "Jeannie," the United States Attorney for the District of Rhode Island, Robert Michael Collucci, said, "to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

  "Well, sir," Jeannie began.

  "Robert, please call me Robert," Collucci interjected.

  "Ah, Robert, you asked me to call you if I was approached by any lawyers asking for me to do something, well, improper."

  "Yes, indeed. You know I need all the help I can get in weeding out this incipient pattern of ethical violations," Collucci said, sounding like a line for a television news teaser.

  "Well, one just did. Steven Harris, from the public defender's office. He asked me to back date a document." She hesitated a moment, then continued, "I did what he asked, making sure I was in view of the security cameras like you told me. I have the document here for you."

  "Thank you, Jeannie. You have done a great service today. I'll have an FBI agent come over and pick up the document." Collucci's voice was almost paternal in tone, congratulating a child for a good grade.

  Chapter 36: From the Government

  Josh and Chris were on their way to meet with agents from the Drug Enforcement Administration when they received a call to respond to the Chief's office immediately.

  Driving back over the Washington Bridge, they headed on to Taunton Ave. As he drove, Josh sensed something bad.

  "So what the fuck does El Jefe want now?"

  "How the hell should I know?" Chris answered, "Maybe he wants to promote you."

  "More likely he's getting fucking pressure from all the political hoes to stick me in the rubber gun squad." Josh shook his head and sighed.

  "Look, whatever he does, you know he'd never hurt a cop. He's a good guy, Josh; he'll take care of you," Chris said, touching his arm, "but just in case I am calling Hawk and have him ready to jump over here."

  "My guess is he's probably jumping something already, Miss L A P certified." Josh said, laughing as they pulled into the station. They both spotted the dark-blue Crown Victoria in front of the station. Since they did not know the car, they assumed Feds.

  "Oh fuck," Josh said, "those bastards better not even think of trying to take me out in cuffs. I’ll give them a real good reason for it, motherfucking cop fucking prima donnas."

  "Whoa, whoa big guy, the local agents know you. They would call and have you come to the courthouse. I bet these guys are from DC Collucci doesn't have the balls to do anything himself, and the local SAIC wouldn't tolerate bullshit."

  Pulling into the lot behind the station, they parked the car and headed toward the entrance. Michael "Mick" O'Hara, a former Airborne Ranger with two tours in Iraq and a slew of combat decorations, walked over to Josh.

  O'Hara was not particularly big, but he projected strength. People often made the mistake of lumping him into the muscle head category. That was a mistake.

  O’Hara patted Josh on the back, his United State Military Academy ring shining in the sunlight. “How you doing, Sarge?”

  O’Hara enjoyed being a cop, some aspects resembled combat, but one could function as an individual, have an impact. Michael O'Hara had done that many times.

  When he retired very few outsiders would know of him, but he would have indeed made a difference.

  "Listen, I saw the Feds heading into the Chief's office. You keep your head on straight and don't let them push you into something stupid."

  O’Hara put his hands on Josh’s shoulders, "We all know you did what you had to do. Those pussies would have shit themselves just hearing the call. You are one of the best cops here; you know what matters and what's right.”

  O’Hara looked over at Hamlin, “I am right, Lieutenant. This is bullshit.”

  Hamlin nodded. “Pure federal bullshit Mick. You hit it on the head.”

  O’Hara continued, “Forget those guys, you go up there and no matter what you remember there are 100 of us behind you all the way."

  Josh smiled and said, "Jeez, what the fuck Mick, you almost sound comforting. I thought you were gonna kiss me there for a moment."

  "Fuck you, Josh, or rather Sergeant Williams," stepping back, rising to attention, "you just remember you've got a lot of friends out here."

  "Thanks, Mick, I really appreciate it." Josh smiled, looked at Chris, and then said, "Now get the fuck back on the road and try to catch a bad guy for once, will ya?"

  Josh and Chris entered the reception area of the Chief's office.

  The Chief's aid, Daniel Zalewski looked up and smiled. "Lieutenant Hamlin, Sergeant Williams how are you? Please have a seat and the Chief will be with you in a moment."

  He rose from the desk, walked over to the two officers, and whispered, "You'll love this. When the federal agents came in, I called the Chief on the intercom and announced their presence. He said ' really, for what, find out', and turned off the intercom. I asked the agents why they needed to see the Chief, and the lead agent said, ' a matter of confidentiality, we need to speak to the Chief directly'. So I push the intercom button again, tell the Chief what the agent said, and the Chief says, ' Dan you're my confidential aide, have them tell you, and you can tell me'." Danny's smile was contagious.

  Looking around the room, he continued. "Needless to say the FBI was not happy. So,” dragging the word out, “I called the Chief again, and he said ' okay, have them wait a minute. I got that other federal Agency on the line, DEA, or ATF, or some such fucking alphabet, and they have something to tell me that's a national fucking secret as well." Danny laughed quietly and returned to his desk.

  Chief Winston Franklin Brennan was an anachronism among the group of people who have served in the position of Chief of Police. He was a political realist, who maneuvered himself into the position by ingratiating himself with connected insiders. He maintained a certain level of separation from any direct involvement, except for the occasional fixing of a speeding ticket or favorable recommendation to the prosecutor's office for leniency in a minor criminal case. Each favor duly noted and indexed in a stack of cards. Most importantly, he outlived the politicians who put him in office. He served more years than any other head of a law enforcement agency in Rhode Island, including the legendary, Colonel Walter Stone, Superintendent of the Rhode Island State Police.

  "Where are they from Dan?" Chris asked.

  "DC, Civil Rights division." Dan answered; looking at Josh, then back at Chris.

  "Son-of-a-bitch," Josh said, "fucking witch hunting pricks."

 
The door to the Chief’s office opened and the Chief walked out, his body filling the doorframe.

  "Well, come on in Sergeant. The boys from the FBI's Civil Rights division would like to speak with you."

  Chris said, "Do you want me in there as well?"

  A voice from inside the office said, “We’d prefer to speak to Sergeant Williams alone.”

  The chief turned around and said, “Ah well, my office, my rules.”

  "You come in as well Lieutenant; we're all brothers and sisters engaged in a noble profession."

  The Chief's aide beamed a huge smile.

  Josh and Chris entered the Chief's office. The two FBI agents sat at the conference table; one of them rose, walking over to Josh.

  "Sergeant Williams," the agent said," I am Special Agent Theo Murray. I am from the Civil Rights division in Washington. I would like to ask you a few questions if I could. I know we aren't particularly popular with you guys, but I am just trying to do my job," smiling and extending his hand.

  Josh shook his hand. They must brainwash these people into believing they really are here to help. Turning his back to the agent, Josh asked. "Do you want me to speak with them, sir?"

  "Well, Sergeant, I won't order you to talk to them. I don't think it appropriate for me to ask you to talk to them, but in the interest of inter-agency relations, I suppose listening to what they have to ask isn't too much to expect."

  Looking over to Chris, "How about you Lieutenant, what do you think?"

  "Sir, I think we can all listen to what they have to say and decide from there,” Chris replied.

  The conversation took place as if the agents were not even in the room.

  The agent who was sitting, stood, and said, "Sergeant, I am Special Agent in charge Jeffery Slattery, DC Civil Rights Division. We have a number of questions regarding the circumstances of the shooting death of an unarmed individual and your involvement. I prefer to discuss this with you privately. I assure you this is only a preliminary inquiry, and we are not here on a formal complaint."