Short’s Measure

“In my experience, those who beg for mercy never deserve it” and by the cold emotionless tone of his voice, Detective Short knew that

Photograph by the incomparable Graham Holden, copyright 2011 (photos@gholden.co.uk)

his victims rarely received it.

“So, she begged, but you still put a twenty-two between her eyes.  You’re a real peach McCormack.”

McCormack was a small, wiry man.  If you walked past him on the streets you would not think about him again.  If you looked into his eyes, there was no glimmer of kindness.  Spend too much time with him and you would begin to doubt he was human at all, no McCormack’s cold demeanour was not an act, he was totally emotionless – evil.

“Hey, she knew what she was getting into.  The second she spoke to you people she signed her own death warrant.   What do you want me to say, you got the evidence, you got my confession, how about you go write a report like a good pig and let me take a nap?”

John Short had been on the job for over twenty years.  He had started in vice but quickly been promoted to detective and moved to homicide.  He was well known amongst his colleagues for his efficient, no-nonsense approach towards his job, and he never second guessed himself.  He was calm and rarely lost his temper with a suspect; that was more paper work than it was worth.  However in this case he was on a deadline. He had been interrogating McCormack for over six hours. The coffee he had consumed in an attempt to keep himself sharp had started to make him twitchy, and he felt both exhausted and buzzed.  He slammed his fist down on the desk.

“I’ll put you out myself Scumbag, but first you’re gonna tell me where the boy is.”

“What boy?”

“Where is he?” Short grabbed the back of the handcuffed man’s head and smashed his face on the desk, hard.  At that point, two of his colleagues rushed in and pulled him out of interrogation.

“What the Hell do you think you’re playing at, Short?”  Demanded Captain James, who had been observing the interrogation from behind the two way mirror outside Interrogation 4. He was extremely overweight, and sweated profusely at the effort it had taken to shout like this.  He rarely emerged from behind his desk, which suited Short fine as it meant he could get on with his job.  He could always be relied upon to support his men, but he too had been up since this case first hit almost ten hours ago, and was tired and probably craving a Big Mac.  “We got this arsehole bang to rights.  DNA, gunpowder res, full confession, which, he can now claim, you beat out of him – if we ever get this to court now! You better fix it!”

“I don’t have time for his crap!  He’s laughing at us in there!  He knows we got him for the murder, that’s the only reason he confessed.  This guys just the muscle.  We put him away and O’Grady has ten just like him already lined up.  He confessed and the buck stops there.  You’re happy cos it’s another one for you to check off your figures, he’s happy cos his bank account is taken care of, O’Grady’s happy cos he lives to see another free day.  But I will tell you who isn’t happy: that kid who has just seen his mother murdered and who could be next on the list unless I find him!”

“Jesus, Short.  Take a breath!  You take this shit personal and screw up the conviction and no-one wins.  Now I know you feel responsible for this whole thing, but you aren’t helping anyone by turning psycho. Go get some air.”

Just then the Desk Sergeant appeared in the doorway and coughed politely.

“What?” Demanded the Captain.

“I’m sorry to bother you Sir, but McCormack’s lawyer is here.”

“Christ! This is all we need! Send her in.  Short, get lost for an hour.”

Detective Short grabbed his jacket and stormed out of the station, but he was not getting lost, he knew exactly where he was going: O’Grady’s Club.  He felt responsible for what had happened.  He had been after O’Grady for years.  Since his time in vice O’Grady’s Club had been known for drug dealing, prostitution and gambling, but O’Grady himself was as slippery as they come, always having someone prepared to take the fall for him.  This time Short had him though.  One of the dancers at his club had seen O’Grady personally shoot and kill someone who had tried to cheat him in a back room poker game.  She had agreed to testify in exchange for protection for her and her six year old son Stevie.  Short had personally organised the relocation and protection.  Since he suspected O’Grady had a man inside the force, all expenses were to go directly through him.  He had, however failed in his assignment.  When he had stopped by the Motel where Jenifer and her son were hold up, the door was kicked in, and her beaten body was tied to a chair, a Twenty-Two Calibre bullet hole between her eyes.  The place was a mess, but Stevie was no-where to be found.  If there was a chance Stevie was alive Short swore he would find him, he had failed the mother, he was not about to fail the boy as well.

He walked into the club fingering his side arm.  He had never had any trouble in here before, but he had never been looking before.  The bouncers stepped out of his way, all the staff were under strict orders to “co-operate” with the police.  He walked up to the bar purposefully and waited for the bar tender to approach.

“What can I get you today Detective?”  She smiled sweetly at him leaning forward displaying her cleavage to its full potential.

“I wanna see O’Grady, now.”

“I’m afraid Mr. O’Grady is out of the office right now.  Perhaps I can take a message for you?” She continued to smile falsely at him.

“The Hell he is! You won’t mind if I check for myself – in the spirit of co-operation?”

“Knock yourself out.” She raised the bar to let him through. “Only don’t touch anything.”

Short went into the back room office.  He felt that this had been a little too easy, and unless O’Grady was hiding in the filing cabinet, then he was genuinely out of the office.  He contemplated breaking into the filing cabinet.  He did not have a warrant, but he was working to a deadline.  At that point, however, his cell began to ring.  It was the Captain.

“Short, I dunno where the hell you are, and I probably don’t wanna.  You need to get your butt back here A-Sap, McCormack has something to say and his lawyer says he will only talk to you.”

“I’m on my way.”

*        *         *         *           *          *        *      *

When he arrived back at the station Detective Short was greeted by O’Grady’s personal lawyer.  A well presented woman in her late thirties, Donna Curby could easily be attractive, were it not for her extreme effort to appear intimidating.  She wore a black pin striped suit, and high heels.  Her light blonde hair was scraped back into a tight bun and she wore thick, black framed glasses which she probably did not need.

“Ms Curby.  May I just say that you look lovely today?”

“Skip it, Short.  My client claims he walked into a door, but another move like that and I’ll pin your arse to the wall.”

“Not now, honey, we’re working, let’s keep it professional.”

“You think you’re so smart, Short.  You aren’t getting near my client again without me being there, clear?”

“Lead the way my love.” They entered McCormack’s cell together.

“Well, this better be good.” The man sitting before him was hardly an intimidating sight.  He was sitting on the cot bed of his cell, hands cuffed in front of him.  His nose looked broken and his face was swollen and distorted.  It was his tone that was terrifying.  He had graduated high school top of his class and could have chosen to do anything.  He had chosen to kill people.  A complete sociopath he had been O’Grady’s top gun for years.  He was never sloppy.  Getting caught for this murder was another deliberate act.  O’Grady wanted everyone to know what happened to those who crossed him.  Now Short had the awful feeling that McCormack was going to offer him Stevie in exchange for a deal.

“Would you excuse us please Ms Curby?” McCormack’s usual icy tone was somewhat distorted by his broken nose.

“Mr. McCormack, I really feel it would be in your best interests…” She trailed off under his gaze and left the room with a look to Short.

“That’s cute McCormack, now what do you want.”

“I want you to know that I didn’t do the kid.”

“What?”

“You know me Short.  I have an ethos. I would never shoot a child.  Not my style.  Too easy.  I don’t wanna take the heat for some bozo’s botch job.  Don’t go chasing your tail on this one.  It wasn’t me.”

“Why the hell should I believe that?  This is just another one of your power games.”

“Believe what you want.  I always knew you were stupid.  I was just trying to help.”

“Trying to waste my time more like.”

But there was something that was niggling him.  He went back over the forensic report.  There was no other blood but Jenifer’s in the room.  This is what had led Short to believe that Stevie had been taken.  However, why would McCormack kidnap a child then hand himself in if not for leverage?  Something did not add up.  Why had O’Grady been out of his office in the middle of the day?  Perhaps he was looking to tie up loose ends.  Short had to get into that filing cabinet.  He did not have time to go through official channels, once he knew that Stevie was safe he would take the consequences.  He rushed back to the bar.  The bouncer was behind the bar.  Clearly uncomfortable with his new role; his drink pouring skills were not impressive.

“Where’s O’Grady? And don’t give me any bullshit.”

“I don’t know Detective.” The man was clearly stressed.  “Cindy didn’t come back from her break, so the boss told me to get behind the bar, then went out.”

“Mind if I check for myself?”

“Go right ahead.”

The office looked as though it had been ransacked.  The filing cabinet was left open and there were files all over the desk.  Normally Short would have had a field day with the in plain sight law that allowed him to read these open files without a search warrant.   Today was not a normal day.  However, the top file did interest him.  It was employee details.  It had been left open on the name of the bar tender, Cindy Reynolds.  The address had been ripped out.  Short hurried back to his car and radioed base to get the address for himself.  He proceeded quickly to the apartment block.  It was run down and the elevator was out of order.  Short started up the stairs.  He was not as young as he once was, and certainly not as fit.  Years of drinking and smoking had taken their toll on his body and he wheezed as he reached the third floor.  When he arrived at the apartment the door was ajar.  He drew his gun and cautiously pushed it open and edged in, checking his surroundings.  He could hear muffled voices from behind a door to his left, one of which he was certain was O’Grady.  He peered cautiously through the gap in the bedroom door, where he could see Cindy, protecting a small boy behind her.  They were both crying.  From his vantage point Short was unable to see anyone else in the room, but he could hear well enough.

“Please Mr. O’Grady, we aren’t gonna tell anyone, honest.  We just wanna leave is all.”

“I wish I could believe you, Cindy, but I can’t have any loose ends.  The kid’s a loose end, and now, by interfering, so are you.”

Short heard the click of the hammer being pulled back on a gun.  He made his move.

“Drop it O’Grady.”

“Why, Detective Short.  This is not a good time.”

“Don’t get clever, put the gun on the floor and kick it to me.”

O’Grady complied.

“Now put your hands behind your head.”

O’Grady did so.  He had a smug grin on his face the whole time.

“You know you won’t be able to hold me on anything Short.  Cindy won’t testify, and you have a nasty habit of losing your witnesses.”

“I know that.” Short picked up the gun which, was at his feet. Holding it by the barrel he walked slowly towards O’Grady.  “I’m not even gonna try and hold you on charges.”

“So, what? You gonna try an appeal to my better nature? Oh please leave them alone.”

“No…”  Short swung the gun hard and hit O’Grady in the back of the head with some considerable force.  The man crumpled to the floor.  Short then handcuffed him and turned to Cindy, who was shaking and clutching Stevie.

“Were you gonna run?”

“Yes, I was.  I’ve got Jenny’s passport.  Stevie is on it.  We look enough alike… Do you want us to stay?”

Short thought.  He had already broken all the rules today.  O’Grady was right.  If he made this girl stay and testify he would be signing her death warrant.

“No.  Go.  Setup a new life.  You have my word you’ll be safe.  Go quick before he wakes up.”

She nodded, grabbed the gym bag which was packed on the bed, picked up Stevie and hurried out of the apartment.  Short picked O’Grady up from the floor.  He sat him in the chair which was opposite the bed and tied his feet to the legs.  He then took the pillow case off of the pillow and started to clean O’Grady’s gun handle with it.  He carefully placed the gun inside of the pillowcase, with the muzzle sticking out, placed it on the bed beside him.  He lit a cigarette.  Then he walked out of the apartment and headed down the stairs towards his car.  He radioed in.

“There’s nothing at the apartment, dead end.  I guess the girl took a personal day.  Any luck locating O’Grady?”

“Not as yet Detective.  Captain says you should call it a day.  Try again tomorrow.”

Short looked at his watch.  “Well, it’s ten thirty five.  Guess I should get some rest, start fresh in the morning.”

“You’re right Detective, you’ve been at it for fifteen hours straight, we’ll see you in the morning.”

Short turned the radio off.  Shut his car door and walked slowly back to the apartment block, and ascended the stairs once more, dropping his cigarette half way.  He made his way quietly back into the apartment, making sure that no-one saw him enter for the second time.  O’Grady was just coming round.

“Good, you’re awake.  Thought I’d put you out for good.”

“You’ll never get away with this Short! What are you thinking?!”

“I’m thinking I’ll get away with it.  But if I don’t, I’ll deal.  Cigarette?”  He lit another as he was speaking.

“What? No! I don’t want a cigarette.  Are you trying to scare me? Let me go you idiot!”

“Nah.  I don’t think I want to let you go.”  Short turned towards the bed and picked up the gun inside the pillowcase.  He felt around for the trigger and got a comfortable grip on it.  “I’m assuming this gun isn’t registered?  That’s a citation right there, but I’ll let it slide.”

“Now come on Short, be reasonable.” O’Grady was starting to sound panicked.  He began to struggle in the chair but it was no use.  “Come on man! This isn’t you! Please!”

“You know what McCormack said to me?” Short picked up the pillow. “He said that those who beg for mercy rarely deserve it.  In this instance I’m inclined to agree with him.”

“But you can’t! You’re a cop!”

Short pressed the pillow into O’Grady’s face, pushed the gun tight against it and pulled the trigger.  The man shuddered and was gone.  Short put the gun and the pillow inside the case into a garbage bag. He slowly and calmly exited the apartment carrying it.  He made sure to shut the door behind him.  No-one would find O’Grady until the corpse started to smell, and by then all the evidence would be in the river.  He felt strangely calm as he walked to his car.  He lit another cigarette and drove home.

 

Share Button

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Solve : *
28 + 30 =