Chapter 92

word count 1250

Mick Johnson pushed his horn-rimmed glasses up on his nose while fumbling through a file, walking in awkward steps and shuffling papers all at the same time. He turned a corner and slammed headlong into another man who was himself charging full speed ahead, Hank Bower. Bower fell backwards but caught himself before hitting the ground.

"What the hell?"

"I'm sorry, Bower! I guess I wasn't looking where I was going!" Mick almost raised both hands in defeat which would have dumped the files on the floor. He caught himself in time.

"Johnson! What the hell is the matter with you?" Hank straightened his clothes. "I've got to get to human resources NOW, dammit." He jumbled the last remark rather than say it loud and clear. He took off in long strides.

"H.R.? That's just where I was going!" Mick jumped in step beside Hank to walk with him. "So what are you going there for?" I was going to apply for transfer to another department. Maybe yours."

"What?"

"Yeah, I filled in for you when you were off, working with Gil Bettencourt. I really liked it. I'd rather work there than where I am now."

I'm sure Gil would 'love' that, Hank thought, remembering the endless bitching and moaning he had to listen to from Gil the last time. Even two weeks after the guy was gone, Bettencourt was still complaining, calling him an idiot, over and over again. "Well, I don't know how much luck you'll have. We're full up at the moment." He shot John a half-smile.

"Oh, I'm not worried. I've got friends in high places."

They arrived and split off to go to two different clerk windows. But as he walked away, Hank wondered what the fellow meant by friends in high places.

"Can I help you?" The lady's brown eyes and pursed red lips worked together with her snapped remark to scream the fact she didn't suffer fools easily.

"Detective Bower, homicide. I need to find out the address for a recent applicant for transfer to the 45th precinct, Beverly Simone. It's my understanding she just put in for a transfer from Weston."

The brown-eyed lady got to work, clicking the mouse, scanning the computer screen. Next, with a puzzled expression she turned and started walking, her high heels clicking on hard linoleum. Coming to the hard copy files, she disappeared down one of the rows. But after a short interval, she came back empty-handed.

"I'm sorry. Detective Bower. I can't find any record of her."

"Are you sure?"

"Sir, I do not make mistakes." She glared at him.

"Okay, okay. How about this? We had a detective, Brenda Simmons. Did she have anyone listed as a contact person in her file?"

"Now, Detective Bower, you know better. Her personal file is locked. It's a matter of confidentiality. I can't access that information, let alone give it to another employee without authorization. That's something only the higher ups can do."

Hank sighed and rubbed his chin. He had to get to Gil. He'd already tried traditional methods, the Internet, phone books. This dame kept a very low profile. The work records here at the precinct were all he had left.

"What can't you access?" Mick Johnson had arrived and leaned against the counter.

"Personal records on file." The woman said it like it was ridiculous to even think you could see such a thing without proper authority.

Mick leaned close to her. "Take me to your supervisor," he said.

The lady stared back, but then shrugged her shoulders and opened the gate for him to come back.

"Wait here," he said to Hank. He walked off with the woman.

He returned clutching a folder, nodding to Hank to follow him to a nearby cubicle.

"I got it. But why the heck are you interested in Brenda Simmons?"

Hank barely heard him because he was busy looking at the guy in a whole new light. The man had just performed an act of magic, a virtual miracle, in this crazy bureaucratic nightmare of a place. How the heck did he do it? Accessing a locked file that mere mortals had no right to. Maybe he really did know people in high places. Hank shook his head and refocused.

"It's like this. I need to see who is listed as her contact person."

Mick slid the file across the table to him, and Hank dove in, scattering papers every which way. Then he found it! Contact in emergency - Beverly Simone, 124 Hathaway St. in Weston. A phone number was listed as well. He could call but he wouldn't want to alarm her and provoke the woman to do something dangerous to Gil. The only thing to do was hit the road and get over there pronto.

"Hank, after all I've done for you, you haven't explained much." Mick stood his ground, waiting for information.

Hank hesitated, but then gave in. Mick had earned it. "Look, Johnson, I have reason to believe that Gil, who is with this lady right now, may be in danger. She's as phony as a two-dollar bill, and she's been playing Bettencourt until he's falling all over himself in love with her. I don't know why, but I think she wants to hurt him, and I've got to get to him in time."

"If my good buddy, Gil, is in danger, then I'm gonna help you!" Mick pushed up his glasses and made sure his weapon was tight in its holster. "Let's go, partner!"

***

It had been a successful visit with John and Lisa. Adam's future was secured. And Buzz and Trudy arrived at his doorstep giddy and jubilant. Trudy, in particular, was ecstatic. She was closer and closer to having Buzz all as her own. She waited while he tried to slide his key in the lock. He was tipsy with all the celebrating, and try as he might the key and the lock refused to connect. To their surprise, the door swung open on its own. An irate-looking Mrs. Dunn stood behind it, arms crossed and foot tapping with impatience.

"Detective Miller, where have you been?" She looked away and didn't acknowledge Trudy.

"Mrs. Dunn! I thought you'd left!"

"Indeed, I did go. But I thought about it. I've never been known to give up on something, so I came back."

"Lucky us!" Trudy murmured in Buzz's ear.

"Be as sarcastic as you like, miss. But I am here to stay!"

"Well, so am I!" Trudy shot back.

Buzz broke in. "Look, Mrs. Dunn. I've just made arrangements for Adam to be adopted by John and Lisa, you know who they are...the state took him away from me, and I figured that was best. Otherwise, he'd end up in a foster home. So, long story short, you're really not needed here! I've got Trudy now."

"Au contraire, Detective Miller! If you think this"...she waved a hand in Trudy's direction..."this can take care of you, cooking and cleaning, then you must be insane."

Buzz gave it some thought. He'd never known Trudy to cook or clean. And Mrs. Dunn made apple pie to die for, and oh, her pot roast! "I see your point, Mrs. Dunn," he said. "Welcome home!"

"Whaaaaat?" Trudy started jumping and down and screaming. "Nooooo!" How could she have her little love nest with Buzz with that woman hanging around? There was only one way to look at it. This was WAR.