Benefit of the Doubt: A Novel (12 page)

“Forget that.” Jorgensen nearly shouted. He emphasized his words with the point of his cigar. “Don’t be turning this into some kind of history lesson. Just find out if Henry has any
current
intel on Lee. If he has any reason to think Lee might be behind this shit. That’s as far as you need to take it. Once you got what you can out of him, it would probably be best if Henry didn’t talk to anyone else.”

Jorgensen hesitated, then clarified his point.

“Ever.”

The room went quiet.

“You get my meaning?” Jorgensen said after a long moment.

McKenzie thought over the exchange. His heart picked up its pace in his chest.

“Boss are you—?”

Jorgensen cut him off and returned to the protective curtain of his desk.

“I’m saying I don’t want to worry about Henry Lipinski running his mouth. I don’t want Henry getting some idea that he needs to go providing any details about this Harlan Lee situation to any swinging dick who comes calling. Especially some federal prick.” Jorgensen held up the case file. “The Lee file is not to see the light of day, and it sure as hell ain’t going to be a matter of discussion in a federal courtroom.”

Jorgensen took another strong puff, then stared down his detective.

“You follow me?”

Yep, there was definitely a new chief in town. This was it. In or out. Jump in with both feet or get the hell off the ride. Easy call. The big time had come knocking.

“Like I said, Chief, I’m on it.” McKenzie tried his best to sound matter-of-fact. Standard procedures. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

Jorgensen narrowed his eyes. “No, you won’t. I can read a newspaper.”

McKenzie recognized the chief’s habit of keeping his distance.

“Use those instincts of yours, Doyle. Take care of this shit and keep it out of Newberg. Keep it away from me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I got other things to attend to.”

McKenzie stood to leave, realizing he’d been dismissed. He also realized he had underestimated Jorgensen, but that would not happen again. For the first time in their dealings he felt a trace of fear. It was as though Jorgensen sensed it and decided to show McKenzie that his newfound respect was well placed.

“By the way,” Jorgensen said, settling back into his overstuffed chair, “I got a call from an old colleague from the State Police. He mentioned your name. Said you two worked a few special details over the years.”

McKenzie waited.

“Anyway, he called to tell me about a local boy they found dumped outside Beloit. Eldon something or other. Two forty-cal slugs in his chest. Wasn’t no ghetto ammo either. Some of that really high-performing shit that can turn a man’s insides to Jell-O. An alarming situation, no doubt. Probably dope related. I told my contact to keep me up on any developments in the case. Being that you are the department narc, I thought you’d want to know.”

McKenzie knew if he’d ever had the upper hand when it came to Jorgensen—and right now, he wasn’t sure he had—he had definitely lost it.

“Sure thing, Chief. Thanks for the heads-up.”

“Oh, and one last thing, Doyle. I’d like to expand the kids’ soccer league this year but fees are way up. See if you can get a few donations put together for me. I think twenty grand oughta get us off the ground.”

McKenzie quailed at the thought. This was going to cut into his own take. “Twenty grand, huh? That’s a hell of soccer program, Chief.”

Jorgensen sat back, wrapped his thick lips around his glowing cigar, and puffed out a long string of perfect blue rings. “Only the best for the people of Newberg, Doyle. Only the best.”

FOURTEEN

Harlan rested a solid arm against the aged oak growing along the boulevard and took in the scene just a few houses down the street.
Yep. This is it.

The first address he’d come up with had been an empty house. A few questions to neighbors—posed as if he was an old family friend—had led him to a live-in hospital for old folks with all sorts of ailments. It had the look of a top-shelf sort of facility although security was nonexistent. Finding the exact room had been as simple as walking in and reading the directory posted in the lobby. Once he had the old man pegged, he spent a few days in surveillance mode. Harlan had watched the blond dish sit for hours reading aloud and talking to the old guy, though it didn’t appear to Harlan she ever got much of an answer back.

Today Harlan had watched as the woman and a couple of orderlies bundled the old man into her minivan. Harlan followed them across town to a Victorian house on a manicured street of stylish homes. A man and a boy threw the football across the lawn; the same pretty little thing he’d seen all week hung back and watched, her arms draped over the old man’s shoulders. The years had left a hard mark on the man, but the resemblance was still clear. “So what the hell happened to you?” Harlan spoke in a low voice. “Stuck in a wheelchair. Drooling all over your damn self?”

The woman continued to dote on the old man just as she had at the care joint. At first Harlan thought maybe she was one of those kindhearted volunteer types, but no. That wasn’t it. Even from this distance Harlan could see the affection in the old man’s eyes. Those two were flesh and blood.

“Officer Lars Norgaard, in the flesh,” Harlan mused out loud, “looks like you went and got yourself all fucked up and crippled somehow, didn’t ya? Little justice came early.”

His initial disappointment at the old man’s condition was short-lived. Harlan thought back to the last bitter years endured by his own father. Alone and abandoned, in failing health, with his only kin locked away. Standing under the tree watching the family scene, Harlan wondered why he hadn’t seen it before. Course he hadn’t known the details, but now it all came clear. With a few minor deviations, with some careful planning, he would strike a most meaningful blow.

“Looks like we got us a chance for some true symmetry.”

As he stood there with his new plan beginning to fall into place, Harlan noticed the stalwart figure giving him the once-over from his place on the lawn. With the ball in one hand, Norgaard’s son-in-law began a slow walk to the curb that drew Harlan’s attention.
Time to get gone.

Fifty yards down the road, Harlan allowed himself a last look over his shoulder and saw the man was still watching. Harlan turned away and kept walking, deciding to himself that he’d be sure to give this guy a wide berth.

FIFTEEN

Standing behind her dad, Alex thought it was shaping up to be a good afternoon. With Lars visiting for the day, Alex and Ben had done their best to bury the hatchet and put on the happy family act. Jake could never resist an offer to throw the ball around. Alex hoped she and Ben could use the time together as a chance to sort of regroup.

“Throw the ball, Dad.” Alex watched as Jake took off and ran another down-and-out pattern. The boy turned for the pass, but his father paid him no mind. Ben was staring down the road.

Alex walked up and playfully swatted the ball from Ben’s hand. He ignored her, continuing his long stare. Alex followed Ben’s gaze into the distance where a man walked away from them along the sidewalk.

“What’s up? You playing or not?”

“Did you see that guy? Looked like he was watching us or something.”

Alex was used to Ben’s hypervigilant cop instincts. After all those years in Oakland, Ben could see a bogeyman around every corner. It didn’t matter if they were in a restaurant, a movie theater, or even church. Ben was always suspicious of what to anyone else seemed like a part of everyday life. It made sense in the big-city world of Oakland, but this was Newberg.

“He’s gone now. Come on back and play.” She pulled on his arm, but Ben stayed put. The stranger, far off now, turned and gave a last look.

“I’m telling you, that guy was checking us out. I got half a mind to go ask him what the hell he wants.”

Jake tried again to get his father’s attention. “
Dad.
Throw me the ball.”

Alex hooked one leg around her husband’s and hugged his waist from behind. “Tell you what. Let’s write this one off as a nothin’ burger. If we see him around again, we’ll get all of Newberg PD on him. Run his ass out of town.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Forget about him, Benny. This is nice. Jake and Dad are having a great time. Let’s just enjoy it.”

Ben couldn’t let it go. Alex could only watch as Ben continued to stare and took another three steps toward curb.

Jake finally lost his patience. “Dad, would you just throw the damn ball?”

Ben and Alex stared at each other, then swiveled their heads to look at Jake.

“Uh … sorry?” The boy went scarlet and waited for the punishment he knew must be coming.

Ben was about to speak, when coarse laughter came from nearby. Alex, Ben, and Jake turned to Lars, who had a broad grin on his face. The old man’s eyes were sparkling. After a beat, Ben dropped back and signaled to his son to go deep.

“Okay, Jake. Go down fifteen yards, then cut right, and I’ll throw you the
damn ball.
”

Ben looked at Alex and smiled. She thought she saw a spark in his eye that took her back to younger days, less complicated times. She watched as her husband reared back and threw a perfect spiral that Jake caught in stride. Within a few minutes any ill wind that had been stirring melted away and was forgotten.

SIXTEEN

Ben sat in a stiff-backed chair outside the office of the Newberg PD chief, determined to gut it out. It had been thirty minutes since he had asked to see Chief Jorgensen and, if need be, he’d wait all afternoon. His new place in the department pecking order was right around the level of whale shit, but he told himself that just meant he could sit right there and put out a serious stench.

It had been right in this room that Lars Norgaard had been recognized as Newberg’s Officer of the Year almost twenty years ago. Ben remembered standing beside Alex during the ceremony. It was their sophomore year at Newberg High. They were crazy in love and already dreaming of a future with each other. Lars had introduced Ben to the mayor and chief of police, bragging that someday Ben would join the ranks of Newberg PD. Well, Ben thought, the old man was right. Just took a few years longer than expected.

“This is just ridiculous.” Bernice was on her feet in a huff and headed for the chief’s closed office door.

“Hang on, Bernie. I can handle this,” Ben said with a wave that stopped her at her desk. “I’ll announce myself.”

“I must say, Benjamin. You need to stand up for yourself.”

She’s right,
Ben thought. You’ve got an out-of-control detective and a chief holed away in his office. Get on top of it, Sawyer.

He stood and gave a light knock on the chief’s door, then pushed it open.

“Excuse me, Chief, I’ve been out here for a while. I just need a couple of minutes.”

Thirty seconds and Jorgensen didn’t bother to look up. Ben rested his shoulder against the office doorjamb, projecting an air of
I can wait all day.
When it became clear that Ben wouldn’t leave, Jorgensen exhaled in exasperation and spoke.

“What do you want, Sawyer?”

Ben walked into the office, still uninvited, and took a seat in front of the chief’s massive desk. “I want to revisit the idea of a transfer for Detective McKenzie. I think we’d be better off with some new blood in Narcotics.”

Jorgensen reached forward and opened the glass-topped humidor on the corner of his desk. He pulled out a fat one out and snapped the lid shut, making it clear that he wasn’t in the mood to share. The big man took a V-cutter from his vest pocket and, with a quick flick of his wrist, expertly removed the end of the cigar. A silver lighter came from another pocket and he lit up. After several puffs, he had the cigar stoked to a full smoke. He took it from his mouth and spit a flake of tobacco off his tongue.

“We’ve been over this, Sawyer. McKenzie has the contacts, he has the experience. He is the department expert. I don’t know what you and Lars had cooked up, but under my administration McKenzie will be the narc for NPD. Now if that’s all you wanted, we’re done. Get out.”

“I’m surprised you want to involve yourself in the day-to-day operations, Chief. I thought that’s what I was brought on to do.”

“I had nothing to do with bringing you on, Sawyer. I think it’s been pretty much established how you got here.”

Ben ignored the jab and returned to the subject of McKenzie.

“I know McKenzie’s type, Chief. He talks a good game, he may even put together a major case once in a while. But he’s cutting corners, and from what I can tell he might be even be cookin’ the books a bit. He needs to be given an assignment where he can be more closely supervised.”

“That’s a powerful accusation,” Jorgensen said. “Particularly coming from you. You really think you’re in a position to accuse another cop of misbehaving?”

“Chief, if you’ve got something to say, then fire away. Let’s get it out in the open.”

Jorgensen got up and walked around his desk, and his large frame towered over Ben. “I’ve got a lot to say, Sawyer. I’ve got a sergeant in my department who was shitcanned for abusive force and then has the balls to waltz in here and attack the character of a veteran detective. The only reason you’re here is that your father-in-law felt sorry for your dumb ass. Believe me, Lars and I had that argument more than once. I lost.”

Jorgensen paused, but when Ben offered no comeback, he went on. “If I had my way, you’d be gone already, but it’s out of my hands. You might not be the chief’s boy anymore, but you’re still a union-protected cop. But know this. You’re damn right I’ll be ass-deep in day-to-day ops, and if you don’t like it, you can walk. And if you can’t work with McKenzie in Narcotics, then you can go back to graveyard patrol. Is all that clear to you, Sergeant?”

Ben reached into his inside jacket pocket. He pulled out a trifolded piece of paper and laid it on the corner of Jorgensen’s desk.

“This is my official recommendation that McKenzie be transferred out of his current assignment. I’ve provided ample written documentation as to why. You’re free to ignore it, but there may come a time you regret that decision.”