The Witness Wore a Puppy Tail, chapter 19 (Patreon)

Ken was leaning against a streetlight watching the crime scene people when he spotted Carol Hoyt weaving her way through the crowd. She must have parked to the south because she was shoving pedestrians to try and reach the crime scene. It took her a while, but she eventually ducked under the yellow tape. 

Her first stop was at the ambulance. The Jeep driver had left with the first ambulance complaining about chest pains. Ken suspected he had suffered a serious case of stress from seeing Wilson die, but the paramedics wanted to be safe. The Mustang driver had refused treatment and an officer had taken him home. However, Millan and the paramedic were still in a heated battle of wills.

Millan had nearly fallen due to shaky legs, but he insisted he wouldn’t go to the hospital no matter what the paramedic said about his blood sugar and the potential effects of acute stress reactions. Carol stood with her hands on her hips in front of the two men. Ken stood too far away to catch any specific words, but body language was enough to understand how angry both men were. And Carol’s head swiveled from one to the other as they both argued their positions.

Ken would have gone over to help, but he didn’t know how to get Millan to listen to logic. Instead he waited and felt useless. Since he’d been involved in the chase that had ended with Wilson’s death, he couldn’t collect the evidence or interview the witnesses. So two detectives Ken didn’t know were canvassing the crowd. Eventually some truce was reached at the ambulance and Carol circled around the cluster of crime scene markers that identified the spot of Wilson’s death and came over to Ken.

“Christ, you do land in the middle of trouble, don’t you?” she asked. 

“I noticed, thanks.” Ken had spent two years avoiding the attention of the press and higher-ups, and now he couldn’t stay out of the spotlight. “Are the paramedics going to take Millan in?” he asked with a nod toward the ambulance.

“They’d like to. His blood sugar is high and he’s shaky. However, he’s fighting them tooth and nail, and it sounds like he’s going to win.” She shook her head. “When I heard stories about the kid, I thought the others were exaggerating. If anything, they were downplaying it. He’s like a puppy that’s been trapped in the house all day.”

“He’s a grown man,” Ken said, although he had to admit that Robert sometimes acted like someone who had taken a little too much meth. 

“He’s what… mid-twenties, late twenties? I have shoes older than him,” Carol said with disgust. “So he’s a kid in my book.”

Ken changed the subject. “Is the captain angry?”

“At what? You pursued a suspect on foot, that’s standard procedure when you believe a crime has been committed. Why were you chasing the suspect?” Now Carol’s voice had a slight edge to it. Since the captain had put on the case and she had more experience, she was primary now. Ken had heard what happened to detectives that screwed up her cases.

“Because he ran,” Ken said. In the end, that was his largest motivation for chasing him. However Carol frowned at him.

Ken added more detail. “Someone in the bar said Wilson had been talking to Millan, and when I stepped in and told the small group that the gay bashers had targeted Millan, possibly because someone had tipped them off about Millan’s interest in the case, Wilson ran like his tail was on fire.”

Carol scanned the crowd. “His suspicious behavior puts you in the clear, although this is going to end in an administrative review.”

Ken groaned. A bunch of people who hadn’t been on scene to see what happened were going to review his actions and tell him what he did wrong. Great. Carol’s expression turned sympathetic. 

“I know, it sucks. But a civilian died.”

Ken glanced over to where Millan sat on the bumper of the ambulance. “I’m more worried about that civilian dying. Wilson ran because he knew something. He talked to someone or he fears that Millan is close to the suspects.”

“Feared. Past tense,” Carol corrected him. Ken grimaced and deliberately didn’t look over in the direction of the evidence markers that outlined the place where Wilson’s body had landed.

“Millan needs protection.”

“That’s a big budget item. Protection is—” Carol sighed. “Unless we can get the feds interested in the case, I just don’t see how we can afford it, and even if the feds do step in....” She let her words trail off, but Ken knew that the budgets were tight all over. Gay bashers didn’t garner as much attention as mafia kingpins, so the feds weren’t going to spend their money on Millan.

“Do you think Gary would sign off on having him stay at my house?” Ken asked.

Twin frown lines appeared between Carol’s eyes. “What?”

Ken turned to face her square on. “I’m not going to get called out to investigate his murder. It’s not happening on my watch.” Ken’s guts tangled with fear at the thought. 

“I know this is your first murder case,” Carol said slowly, “but you can’t save everyone.”

Ken snorted. “Do you really think I don’t know that? I was military. I was military intelligence. I am perfectly aware that death is inevitable. I couldn’t have stopped Wilson’s death without standing back and allowing a suspect to flee without attempting to apprehend him. And no choice I made, good or bad, would have saved Mendoza. However, these suspects are young enough that they won’t try to go through me, so I can save Millan.”

She looked over toward the ambulance. “Your reputation may never recover.”

“Do you think I give a fuck?”

When she looked back at Ken, she definitely looked worried. “You’re young, not even forty. Right now, you think you can solve cases singled handed and leap tall building in a single bound. The older you get, the more you’re going to realize that you need the rest of us. You need to protect your reputation well enough that when something goes horribly wrong or someone files an unfounded complaint, people put their faith in you.”

“If I can’t protect a civilian who has put his own life in danger to protect the community, then people shouldn’t put any faith in me,” Ken countered. He might not have as much experience as Hoyt, but he wasn’t young. He hadn’t been young since he’d served in Africa.

Carol bit her upper lip as her features twisted with frustration. “God save us from idealists. Hoffman, you watched a man die. You were darting through traffic yourself if the reports I heard were right, so you could have died. Is it at all possible that you are overreacting because your adrenaline is flowing too hard and fast?”

"Right now, I'm too worried about who else is going to die next. If Wilson was our leak, then we just lost our best lead."

"Suspects run for a lot of reasons. You should keep following Millan and see where else he might go. If you move him into your house, doing that is going to get complicated. Are you trying to solve this case or play at being on protection detail?”

“How about both?” Ken said loudly enough that several people turned to look at them. He took a deep breath and tried to dial the emotion down. “That bar was a comfort zone for Wilson; the others knew him by name. The assistant coroner on scene didn’t find any drugs or weapons, there were no warrants. Exactly what reason did he have to run if not to escape the conversation I was having with the men in that bar—a conversation centered on identifying the individual who had talked to someone about Millan’s interest in this case?”

“You’re assuming he had a logical reason to run. I’ve seen individuals run for no reason.” Carol held up her hand before Ken could argue. “But Wilson could have been the source of the Millan leak. We can start digging into his life and see if we find a connection. But if you’re sitting on Millan, you can’t get your work done.”

Ken gritted his teeth and looked over toward the ambulance. Robert looked up. As soon as their gazes met, Robert seemed to explode into movement. He threw his hands up, leaped to his feet and ripped the blood pressure cuff off his arm. The paramedic was clearly still arguing as Robert bee-lined toward Ken and Carol.

“Oh, shit,” Carol whispered. “Here he comes.” She turned her back.

Ken suppressed a grin. Robert might be a pain in the ass, but it was amusing as hell when he turned his powers of annoyance on someone else. “Detective Hoffman!” Robert called out as if Ken wasn’t watching. 

Ken waited until he was close before saying, “Robert, this is Detective Hoyt. She’s primary on the case now.” 

Robert practically skidded to a stop and he glared hatred at Carol. She raised her eyebrows and stared right back at him.

Ken cleared his throat. “Detective Carol Hoyt, this is Robert Millan.”

“Why did she take your case?” Robert demanded. “She can’t just take your case. Can she?” The righteous indignation rolled off Robert like a fog.

“I don’t have the experience to run a murder investigation,” Robert said. “Not alone, anyway. So bringing in a more experienced detective is standard operating procedure.” 

“Standard?” He eyed Carol suspiciously.

“Very standard,” she said. She gave Ken an amused look. “Thank you for not calling me the older detective. So, Mr. Millan, can you tell me anything about Mr. Wilson?”

“I’m not telling you anything he may or may not have said in confidence. He is a journalistic source, and I have an ethical obligation to protect him, even if he didn’t tell me anything remotely important.”

Carol’s eye twitched. “I would be willing to listen to anything you’re comfortable telling me.”

“Oh man.” Robert grimaced and looked around the crime scene. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously over and over. "He doesn't have a house," Robert blurted. "He couch surfs... one person to the next. He isn't...” Robert took a deliberate breath, and Ken itched to reach out and offer some comfort. “He wasn’t good at keeping a job."

"We can look up phone and financials,” Ken suggested. Carol rolled her eyes, so Ken decided to bite his tongue and not give her any more unsolicited advice. At the very least, he should probably avoid giving her obvious advice. "If I take Robert with me, I might be able to get family or friends to talk to me more easily.” Ken kept his face as impassive as possible.

Carol sighed. “Mr. Millan, you would probably be safer staying with your father.”

“Yeah, not going to happen, lady.” Robert added a snort for good measure.

“Okay.” Carol took out her phone and started texting. “Ken, you might want to take Robert with you back to the bar, but you cannot take a known prostitute with you to interview family.”

“Whoa!” Robert puffed up about three times larger than normal. Now he really had his back up. “No fucking way did you just call me a fucking prostitute. Oh man. No fucking way. You asshole.”

“Hey!” Ken broke in when Robert started poking his finger in Carol’s direction. “I’m sure she meant to say an upstanding citizen and community volunteer who had rumors of prostitution swirling around him. Because Buddy, you know about those rumors.” 

“A rumor is a bunch of small minded assholes talking about shit they don’t know anything about. No fucking way does she get to call me a known prostitute when I have never had sex for money. I’m going to tattoo that on someone’s ass. In three in letters.” Robert was still yelling when Ken pulled him aside. He practically dragged Robert behind an SUV that had gotten trapped behind the crime scene tape. It gave them some protection from the crowd, although people on the far side of the street could still see them.

Ken grabbed both Robert’s shoulders and held on tightly. Robert was shaking, and Ken suspected the man had a little too much emotion and adrenaline flowing through his veins, which was pretty damn normal. However, mouthing off at a cop was never safe. “Hey!” Ken yelled loud enough for Robert to stop trying to wiggle away and focus on him. “Hey,” Ken said softer. “Just chill.”

“Did you hear what she called me? No fucking way does she get to say that. She’s the voice of authority—that’s what your badges make you—and she does not get to define me as a fucking prostitute.”

Ken sighed. Carol had been wrong, but Robert wasn’t exactly smoothing the way for her to apologize. “That is the detective trying to get me permission to have you at my house. That is a woman who has solved more murders than I’ve read about, who prosecutors love because she knows how to make evidence bullet proof, and who would shield you with her body if there were an active shooter out here. Obviously she had put a little too much stock in rumors, but do you think we could avoid lynching her over that sin?”

“That is an uncool use of the word lynch,” Robert complained softly, which Ken took as agreement.

“Yeah, well the words official complaint were about to pop out of your mouth, and those words make cops use words like lynch in uncool ways.”

Robert pressed his lips together in an angry line and poked a finger in Carol’s direction. “I’m the fucking victim. She has no right to accuse me of being a prostitute, especially not in that so-certain tone of voice.”

“Her tone of voice was definitely insulting,” Ken agreed. He liked Carol, but at this point distracting Robert from an official complaint seemed a little more important than defending her word choice. “I think she was aggravated with me, and you caught the backlash from that. And we’re all tired and cranky. This did not go as planned.” Ken slowly released Robert and took a step back. The potential for homicidal or political protest appeared to have passed.

“You are aggravating,” Robert said.

“Yep,” Ken agreed. “That’s me. Aggravating.” Sadly he wasn’t even exaggerating. “Now let’s go make nice with Detective Hoyt.” Ken got a hand under Robert’s arm and steered him back to where Carol stood.

Before Robert could say anything, Carol cut him off. “Mr. Millan, I apologize. It’s clear that the verbal reports I’ve heard are unfounded. I should have looked up your record myself before saying anything.”

“Yeah, or just not assume the worst about people,” Robert said in the least graceful apology acceptance in the history of mankind.

“So, the case. What can you tell us about Mr. Wilson?” Ken asked a little more loudly than strictly necessary. AT this point he would have put on a pink tutu and danced if it distracted these two. Carol gave him an amused look, but Robert appeared tired or shaken enough to miss the clumsy redirect. Either that or he chose to allow Ken to move the conversation along.

"Wilson liked to talk." Robert paused before he took a deep breath and forged ahead. "I’m not so sure you’re going to be able to figure out who he talked to. If someone showed some interest in the case, he would have given them my name. He worshipped at the altar of gossip, and having inside information about me researching the attacks would have been irresistible.  It would have been like smoking crack in front of an addict. He was probably telling everyone that story."

"This does not sound like a viable lead," Carol said with a sigh.

“Maybe he would have talked about a student reporter, but would he really have given a perfect stranger your name?” Ken asked. “I would still like to ask around to see if anyone remembers a conversation that stood out. I could take the composite drawing around Wilson's normal haunts.”

"That's a lot of ground to cover,” Carol said. “You’d have to walk those pictures around to see people’s reactions and try to spot an unusual affect.”

“Yeah, and hope they don’t run in front of a car,” Robert said softly.

Carol looked at him with concern before she turned back to Ken.

"It's the best lead we've had so far,” Ken said with a shrug. “It’s that or sit at a desk and sort paper. I know which I’d rather do.”

“Fine.” Carol thumbed her phone off and slipped it into her pocket. “Since we now have a second death related to this case, Gary is anxious to get a suspect name to put on the files. He approved Mr. Millan staying at your house until that happens. Once we know who we’re defending him against, Gary recommends an old fashioned restraining order. But for now, Mr. Millan is your problem, Detective Hoffman.”

Her tone made it clear that she considered him a pig in a poke. Ken didn’t. 

Chapter 20: https://www.patreon.com/posts/witness-wore-20-19153311 

Chapter 21, 22, 23: https://www.patreon.com/posts/witness-wore-21-21192263 

Chapter 24: https://www.patreon.com/posts/witness-wore-24-21260957