Victim's Advocate: Angie Bartoni Case Flie # 12 (Angie Bartoni Case Files) Read online

  Victim’s Advocate

  Angie Bartoni

  Case File #12

  BY

  MW HUFFMAN

  OTHER BOOKS BY MW HUFFMAN

  THE END–BOOK I of The Event Series

  THE BEGINNING–BOOK II of The Event Series

  THE REVELATION–BOOK III of The Event Series

  The Second Civil War–BOOK I-A Nation Divided

  The Second Civil War–Book II-A Nation at War

  The Second Civil War–Book III–A Nation Healing

  Project BlueBolt – BOOK I – American Gulags

  Project BlueBolt – BOOK II - The Gulag Journal

  Project BlueBolt – BOOK III – American Uprising

  REVOLUTION

  THE BRINK

  CLOSE PROXIMITY

  BLACKSTAR

  CHIMERA

  WORLDS END

  SUN BURST

  Sins of the Fathers

  The Unfinished

  Angie Bartoni Case File # 1 - The Alphabet Murders

  Angie Bartoni Case File # 2 - Frost Bite

  Angie Bartoni Case File # 3 - Dead Aim

  Angie Bartoni Case File # 4 - What Goes Around

  Angie Bartoni Case File # 5 - Nothing to Lose

  Angie Bartoni Case File # 6 - Shadow Man

  Angie Bartoni Case File # 7 – The Club

  Angie Bartoni Case File # 8 – Shakespeare Murders

  Angie Bartoni Case File # 9 – One Too Many

  Angie Bartoni Case File #10 – Weak Link

  Angie Bartoni Case File #11 – Vanishing Act

  Angie Bartoni Case File #12 – Victim’s Advocate

  Angie Bartoni Case File #13 – Payback

  Angie Bartoni Case File #14 – Dead on Arrival

  The Logan Files - Blond Deception

  The Logan Files - Innocence and Avarice

  The Logan Files - The Deal Breaker

  The Logan Files – Pain Center

  Norris Files – Insurrection

  Norris Files - Silver2

  Victim’s Advocate©2014 By MW HUFFMAN

  WaJe Productions

  This book is a work of fiction and is not intended to represent anyone living or dead. Any similarities are purely coincidental. This is an original work of fiction from the mind of the author.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Some days I get up feeling more cynical than others. I can almost always tell if the day isn’t going to be a good one. Today when I got up and looked in the mirror I knew it wasn’t going to be so great. My hair was in a tangle and plastered to my head because I had gone to bed with wet hair. The lines around my eyes seemed to be more pronounced and I detected dark circles under my eyes. For most women, a little plaster, some lipstick, and a couple of cans of hair spray and they could come out looking like a million dollars. My problem is that in my line of work it just didn’t matter that much. Also, since I had zero social life, who was I going to impress?

  On top of all of that, it was cold. I had been setting the thermometer on 60 at night since my electric bills had been going out of sight. I dressed, grabbed a Diet Coke, about the only thing in the fridge, and headed to the garage. Now I love my Austin Healey 3000 but when the weather is this cold, it’s not quite as much fun. I pulled out the choke; yes it is a manual one, pumped the gas just once, and turned the key. It protested in the only way it could by cranking over slowly. Nevertheless I was persistent and it fired up, running on just five cylinders at first then the sixth one kicked in and it started to purr. I let it idle until the water temperature came up to 100 degrees before I backed out of the garage.

  You can always tell when it is getting close to winter besides the obvious shorter days and warmer clothes, people just seem more lethargic. I was lucky; I found a place to park within a few hundred miles of the station. There’s nothing like working in the downtown area where people would rather die than move their cars.

  When I got in, I grabbed my usual breakfast of coconut donuts from the vending machine and another Diet Coke. I could see Captain McGregor in his office which was kind of unusual. I normally beat him in by a good half hour. Something must be cooking and that was usually a bad sign. In case you missed it, I’m a police detective and have been doing this longer than I care to admit. I have a great partner named Dan Roberts who has gone from a raw recruit to a first class detective, one I know I can rely on.

  I am a real detective. By that I mean I don’t wear low cut blouses and short tight skirts. No high-heels and definitely no fisticuffs with big ol’ bad guys that could punch my headlights out. I let Dan handle that part. If I have to take on someone like that, rest assured they are going to get about 50,000 volts from my Taser. At five-five and a hundred and $#@^%$ pounds, I am not fighting anyone unless I absolutely have to in order to survive. What? You don’t know how much $#@^%$ is? Good, let’s just keep it that way. I have brown eyes and long brown hair that I wear pulled back in a ponytail ninety percent of the time.

  Right now I have no social life to speak of and that is starting to bug me. The problem is me, pure and simple. I just refuse to date another cop and on top of that I am so damned independent that not many men want to put up with my crap.

  Dan finally came dragging in, heading right to the break room for his morning fix of coffee. I just waited, knowing he would be a grouch until he was at least halfway through his first cup. Before he could get that far the Captain came out, looked at the big board and headed our way. The big board is where we keep our caseload and spaces meant we had room for another. Right now we had only one open case having closed three in the past week. Obviously that was about to change.

  “Bartoni. Roberts. Got three people shot over on Capital Street. No dead. An old man was knocked out by these guys and he is in critical condition in Methodist Hospital.”

  “I’m missing something here?” I said, “We have an old man in critical condition from being knocked out. By these guys I assume, and then they end up shot?”

  “Pretty much. Just head over and find out the details,” he said waking off.

  “Well this is going to be a weird one,” I said to Dan.

  He just grunted and looked like he was in a daze.

  “Come on, we might as well jump on this,” I said heading down the stairs.

  I got stopped heading out the door by the desk sergeant.

  “Where is your vest Bartoni?”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake.”

  “Go get it or I get chewed out for letting you leave without it.”

  I was saved the trip by Dan who had stopped and picked mine up.

  “Got it,” I said showing it to the sergeant.

  “Oh no you don’t. Put it on.”

  “Awe give me a break.”

  “No whining Bartoni. It’s unbecoming.”

  I finally just put the stupid thing on. They are uncomfortable and restrictive but that was the Commissioners new rule. Seems it had cost around a zillion dollars to get them for everyone and by golly we were going to wear them or else.

  ***

  Our scene was the usual shamble of parked police cars and ambulances. The street was blocked off on both ends which was sending motorists into a frenzy. The yellow and black crime scene tape was flapping in the stiff breeze. A man was being loaded into the back of an ambulance just as we got there.

  “Who is this?” I asked the EMT.

  “Mr. Waters. He is in pretty bad shape.”

  “I assume he is the knock out victim.”

  “Yeah. It’s just mind numbing that these punks thi
nk that somehow makes them tough. An eighty-seven year old that had no idea it was coming? Give me a break. At least they got what was coming to them,” he said as he closed the door.

  He had a valid point. How tough is it to knock out someone that doesn’t have any idea it’s coming and add the age in the mix, and in my book, that just makes you a punk, not a tough guy.

  “I sure would like to have them try something like that with me,” Dan said.

  “Never happen. They are basically cowards,” I replied.

  We walked over to where three men lay on the ground being attended to by the other EMT’s. One was screaming and sobbing. Real tough guy alright. The EMT wasn’t being any too gentle I noticed but decided to stay out of it.

  “Are these the three who attacked the older gentleman?”

  “That’s what I understand. Seems some guy saw it going down and decided to intervene.”

  “He shot all three of them?”

  “That’s what I understand. Shot each of them in the knee first then stood over them and shot them a second time in the elbow.”

  “Man,” Dan said but he had a slight smile on his face.

  “They are going to make it?” I asked.

  “Oh yeah but they won’t be hitting elderly people again.”

  We watched as the three were finally taken to the hospital and then set about the tedious work of talking to witnesses. Talk about an exercise in futility. The more people we talked to the fuzzier the picture became. By the time we got back in the car to compare notes I had a raging headache.

  “Well that was interesting,” I said closing my eyes and laying my head back on the seat.

  “Interesting. I guess that is one word that can be used. Weird, bizarre, strange, crazy, and a few others seem appropriate as well,” Dan said.

  “So I take it you got the same thing I did?”

  “If you mean absolute nothing useful, yeah.”

  “That pretty much sums it up,” I replied.

  “This one may be on the Big Board for a while,” Dan said.

  “I agree,” was all I could say.

  ***

  “So,” the captain said, “He was between five-seven and six-three or four. Weighed around 150 pounds or maybe 220 pounds. Had either blond or black hair. The car was a Chevy, Buick, a truck, a van, or maybe a sports car. The color was white. No red, wait, blue or green. He used a handgun, rifle, or shotgun. Does that pretty much sum it up from what the witnesses told you?”

  “That about covers it. Except one person said he limped and someone else said he ran. And then there is the race element. He was black, white or Asian and one lady said he looked Greek to her.”

  “The only think they agree on is he saw it happening, got out of his car and shot all three of the gang members.”

  “Yep. They all said he stopped his car and confronted the three and shot them. He then calmly got back in his white, red, blue, green, car, truck, or van and drove off.”

  “It could have been a sports car,” Dan added.

  “Right, it could have been,” I agreed.

  “So what you are telling me is that everyone is covering for the guy.”

  “You pretty much have it. I don’t think a single person wants to see this guy get caught. This is the third elderly person to have this happen in that area. I wouldn’t be surprised if these were the same perps. It just caught up to them today,” I said.

  “What about the older gentleman? Any word on him?’ McGregor asked.

  “Still in surgery. Broken Jaw, fractured cheek bone, broken nose, concussion, and he lost four teeth. He is in critical condition.”

  “And the perps?”

  “One had his right arm amputated. The other two are in serious but stable condition.”

  “No shell casings?”

  “Had to have been a revolver. Link Wilson was on the scene. He said it was a pretty big bore gun. Probably a .44 Magnum or a .45.”

  “Well that’s a starting point. Pull all the carry permits and let’s see what that gives us,” the captain said.

  “You do know the permit doesn’t require you to list what caliber gun you carry, right?”

  “You got a better idea?’

  “Go talk to the perps.”

  “The get out and do it,” he said pointing to the door.

  Boy what a grouch. Something was up with the captain. I mean he is a good boss and I like working for him but the past week I have seen him change. He is wound like a clock and not thinking as clearly as usual.

  “What’s up with McGregor?” Dan asked when we got in the car.

  “You noticed too?”

  “I would have to be blind not to. I’ve never seen him so tense and the carry permit suggestion. What was he thinking? Even if we got them, and there must be several thousand, what good would that do us?” Dan asked.

  “Obviously not much, that’s why I think he was glad when we said we should go talk to the perps. He just wasn’t thinking.”

  “I hope it’s nothing serious,” Dan said.

  “Me too,” I replied.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I do not like hospitals. I have spent enough time in them recuperating that just the atmosphere and smell makes me a little nauseous. I doubt there is a hospital in the city that I haven’t been to at one time or another. After going through a security check worse than the airport, we were directed to where the three men were located. Each was in a separate room with a guard watching.

  We had made sure they couldn’t get together and concoct a story of how innocent they were. The first guy's name was Tyrone ‘Big T’ Lippton. He had been the one who shoved Mr. Waters from behind.

  “Hey Dan, look it’s Big T. He doesn’t look to happy,” I said.

  “He sure doesn’t live up to his name. Not very impressive,” Dan responded.

  Tyrone didn’t say anything. He just glared at us.

  “Oooh, look at that face. Now that is scary, don’t you think?” I said.

  Dan shivered, “You bet. A real tough guy with eighty year olds. Big tough guy alright,” he said.

  “So Tyrone. I take it some guy took you down. How in the world did he get all three of you?”

  “We was just minding our own business and this dude just started shootin’ for no reason.”

  “Really? We have a dozen witnesses that say you just got done knocking out an eight-five year old man. Boy, that must make you feel really tough.”

  “We didn’t do nothing.”

  “I hate to tell you this but didn’t do nothing means you did do something,” I said.

  “Huh?”

  I knew it was lost on him from the stupid look on his face. Dan had perched on the edge of the bed while I was talking to Tyrone.

  “So you are just walking along and this guy shoots you for no reason?” I asked.

  “Damn right. Just shot us for being black.”

  “Really? One of the witnesses said the guy that did the shooting was black.”

  “Was not. That’s a damn lie. He was a cracker.”

  “A cracker? You mean alike a saltine?” Dan asked.

  “What you talkin’ about? A damn white dude. Man, don’t you know what a cracker is?”

  “Sure. I use them with my soup.”

  “You is pretty dumb,” he said.

  Suddenly he let out a scream.

  “Oops, sorry. I must have bumped your leg,” Dan said.

  “Man, you be more careful or…”

  “Or what Tyrone? You think the three of you punks could take me down? Do I look like I’m eighty-five to you? I wish just once a punk like you would try. Nothing would give more pleasure than to rip your head off and shove it where the sun don’t shine.”

  He just lay back in the bed and did the smart thing for a change. He shut his big mouth.

  “So Tyrone. You got a description of the guy?”

  “I told you he was a cracker.”

  Another yelp from Tyrone came as he finished his sentence.
<
br />   “Tyrone, one more ‘cracker’ comment and I’m going to twist your leg until it comes off and then I am going to beat you over the head with it. Got it smart mouth? Just say ‘cracker’ one more time and I can guarantee you will never walk again on that leg,” Dan said laying his hand on Tyrone’s knee.

  “Easy Dan,” I said.

  I could see he was at his limit. He wasn’t big on being disrespected and Tyrone had pushed it about as far as he was going to allow.

  “Tyrone, you understand what I’m saying?” Dan asked, ignoring me.

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah what?” Dan insisted.

  “Yeah I understand,” Tyrone replied.

  “Go on Tyrone,” Dan said with his hand still resting over Tyrone’s knee, “I got the part about being white. What else can you tell us?”

  “Around six foot. Kind of skinny. Funny looking beard. Had on a hoodie. Black I think.”

  “What kind of car was he driving?”

  “Never saw the car. He just was there and he shot us. Got BD first, then me then ‘Fangs’.

  “BD is?”

  “Man. BD, you know. Bad Dude.”

  “Bad Dude?” I asked.

  “Kyreen.”

  “Ah. Kyreen Johnson is Aka ‘BD’, Aka ‘Bad Dude’.”

  “Yeah.” Tyrone confirmed.

  We spent the next twenty minutes getting nowhere with Tyrone. The fuzzy picture of what the shooter looked like didn’t really help us much. We couldn’t talk to Kyreen ‘Bad Dude’ aka ‘BD’ Johnson. He had just come back from having his arm amputated. How ironic; I guess he won’t be hitting seniors for a while. ‘Fangs’ Soto was another waste of time. Like Tyrone, ‘they was doing nothing and ‘dis guy’ shot them cause they be like black, you know what I mean?’ he told us.

  Sure we know what you mean. Just innocent guys walking along and this bad cracker shoots them.

  We decided talking to them was a total waste of time. We went to Riley Hospital where Mr. Waters had been taken. Like always it took longer than we had planned on. We were finally able to track down his doctor.

  “Doctor Likens, how is Mr. Waters doing?” I asked.

  Likens looked a little like Doctor House only clean shaven. A lot nicer too.