I must have been in there for hours – just combing through all the evidence over and over again.
I cursed when it finally hit me. All this time and the answer had been staring me in the face. The gun with no bullets, the exit wounds from the front…I couldn’t believe it. But I had to see for myself.
As I hailed a cab, the heavens opened up as if to compound my misery. “The corner of 48th and Chester, please.” The cabbie muttered something in reply, but the myriad of thoughts in my mind blocked out whatever he said.
When the cab pulled up at the destination, my heart sank faster than the rain pounding on the windows – my worst fear had just been realized. Even through the heavy precipitation, the man’s face was clear as day. “That’ll be twelve dollars, sir.” The cabbie extended his hand as I rummaged for my wallet.
“Here, take thirty.” I handed the confused man three tens. “And wait here for the next ten minutes.” The cabbie shrugged and nodded as I pulled out the standard issue radio. “Detective Frank to Precinct, got a possible lead on the drug case, requesting S.W.A.T. and a few black and whites. Location is the corner of 48th and Chester.”
This time it was the cabbie who drowned out the radio response. “Holy cow, man, you a cop? Thanks for your service man, but hey, if somethin’s going down, I’d hate to be here.”
That was understandable. “It’s okay, just wait another five minutes then I’ll get out.” I dug through my bag till I found DSLR. I zoomed in and snapped a few shots of Johnson shaking hands with the drug dealers in the cafe. Son of a...
A couple of minutes elapsed before I saw the black and whites creep around the corner slowly. I exited the cab and strode nonchalantly toward the café. Halfway across the street I saw the S.W.A.T. team pull up and pile out of their vehicle.
I stopped at the café entrance and took a deep breath. Damnit, Johnson. Then, I gave the signal.
It was over in a flash.
When the gunfire finally stopped, one policeman was wounded, and Johnson and five other gangsters were dead.
After that it was a simple matter of collecting the damning evidence Officer Johnson had on him. All the stuff missing from the evidence locker that could convict a local mob boss cum drug dealer. What a disgrace to the uniform and the badge.
**
“Detective Frank to see you, Inspector.”
“Send him in.”
I entered the office of Inspector Clayton, a big grin on my face. “I’ve done it, sir. I found the mole, cracked the case.”
Inspector Clayton, however, was anything but happy. I immediately knew that something was wrong, but it all came too fast for me to handle.
“Son, there’s no easy way to say this, but Officer Johnson Richards was undercover.”