149Mr. Saturday Night Special
01
Commissioned by alethiophile.
"Kusanagi!"
Looking up from where he was filling out an incident report, Shinji blinked at his sergeant, an older black man by the name of Ty Baker, standing over his desk carrying several folders. "Yeah, sarge?"
"I'm putting you on the Winslow incident," Sergeant Baker said, dropping the folders on the desk.
Shinji frowned. "I thought that Smith was assigned to that."
The thirty-something year old Sergeant Baker frowned. "You didn't hear?" When Shinji shook his head, Baker quietly explained, "Smith was killed last night. Stopped to get gas and some punk wearing a hoodie and a mask came up behind him and blew his brains out."
Baker didn't seem too broken up about it, but then, Shinji hadn't heard anything about it coming into the station this morning either. Shinji was pretty sure that general sentiment was that it couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. Smith was a piece of shit. Corrupt, and he didn't care who knew it. Robert Smith was suspected of having ties to the Empire and openly flaunted it. Womanizer. Alcoholic. Gambling addict. The problem was, he was a decent detective and also related to someone higher up in the chain of command, so even if he ran his mouth, nothing could really be done about it because his alleged connections got him results.
"Winter though, so it's not like he would've stood out before drawing his gun. Cameras get a decent look at him?"
"Nah. One camera caught it at a shitty angle, but we don't have much to go on. The other cameras were broken. Owner says someone shot them out with a .22 or something. Forensics have gone over the scene, but they haven't found any brass. Unis are still knocking on doors to see if anyone's heard anything."
"So what, he was robbed and then killed?"
"No," Baker shook his head. "From what I've heard, this little shit just strolled up, put a bullet in him, and ran away."
"Christ. This fucking city," Shinji muttered, and Baker nodded.
"It's Brockton Bay. What'd you expect?" Baker sighed. "Anyway. Those are his files. Finish up that report and get it turned in, then start looking over the files. Cap'n wants this done quick. There's some pressure coming down from somewhere up high to hurry the fuck up on it."
"Who was Smith working with for this?"
Baker shook his head. "He was doing it solo. They don't want to put a lot time and resources into it."
"So they want it buried," Shinji murmured, earning a small nod. "And if I actually find something?"
Looking around to make sure they weren't being overheard, Baker leaned in. "Officially, you're to give it all due diligence." Which was code for 'look busy, then drop it.' That tended to happen when the gangs or the government were involved and it could turn very ugly, very fast—usually politically. "Unofficially? Bulldog it. Run it down. Grab on and don't let go."
"Alright. I'll see what I can find."
"Good kid." Baker moved to turn away before stopping. "And Kusanagi? I know you're plainclothes, but wear your fucking vest. It won't help against a headshot, but it's better than nothing."
"Way ahead of you, sarge."
With that, Baker left and Shinji turned back to his work. Finishing out the report, he emailed it, then printed it and added it to his personal records. Closing up his work laptop, he picked up Smith's files and his computer, stuffed them into his bag, and left the office. His superiors were pretty lax about being in the office, thankfully. As long as the job got done and they were available for calls, they valued results more than being seen working. So, Shinji made his way down to the motor pool, climbed into his city-issue unmarked police car, and headed home.
Home was a one story plus basement house in the nicer part of Brockton Bay, where Shinji had lived alone ever since his dad died. Like many of the Asian community in Brockton Bay, Shinji and his father had come seeking refuge after the attack on Japan by Leviathan. Shinji had been fourteen at the time.
Pulling into his driveway, Shinji parked and made his way inside. After making a sandwich, he headed into his office and set up the work laptop, before bringing his personal computer out of sleep.
"Alright, let's see what you found," he murmured, opening the folders.
The first contained photos and transcripts of everything found at Winslow, along with medical records after the victim was recovered and treated. Flipping through them, Shinji winced.
The locker was just… disgusting. Thankfully, crime scene photos didn't convey sense of smell. Even then, Shinji's stomach turned and his sandwich suddenly looked much less appetizing. Forcing himself to eat anyway, he moved through the first photos and onto those of the victim.
"Hello Taylor." The girl was a mess. Bruises, cuts, covered in filth and her own vomit. A report detailed all of the damage—mostly self-inflicted, in trying to get out of the locker. Another report detailed medical treatment. Lots and lots of IV antibiotics, but the docs basically did a 'peek and shriek' before calling in the local healer and Panacea put her to rights.
Flipping the page, he found the girl's last photo before the incident. A bit grumpy. Long, curly black hair. Big green eyes behind her glasses. A slightly wide mouth, but honestly, Shinji would call those dick sucking lips in a year or so. Cute, in a plain, girl next door sort of way.
Another page, the girl's family records. Father, Daniel Hebert—a dockworker and head of the Dockworkers' Association, a few instances of misdemeanor assault and drunken disorderly in the past; nothing that would draw raised eyebrows. Mother, Annette Hebert—deceased, minor criminal record, about what he'd expect for a 'social activist' type.
Another page, this time Taylor's statement. Shinji frowned as he read over it. No follow-up questioning? Sloppy. Doesn't seem like Smith. He's usually more thorough than that, even if he is a piece of shit.
Closing the first folder after placing everything back inside neatly, he opened the second. Photos of the faculty of Winslow and the students alleged to have been involved. Witness statements from all of the above.
Reading through, he frowned. Jesus Christ, forget gaslighting, it's a complete fucking character assassination.
There were problems with what he was reading. A whole lot of it, namely what came from the faculty, was echoed almost word for word. Ms. Hebert was a problem girl who started fights and may or may not have a troubled home life. Ms. Hebert displayed attention-seeking behavior. Ms. Hebert was a compulsive liar, as evidenced by multiple instances of her accusing other students of destroying her property, stealing her notes, and her plagiarizing off of other students—along with multiple student witnesses coming forward to back up the people she had accused of these alleged wrongdoings.
On the student side of things, it was a whole lot nastier. Rumors that Ms. Hebert was selling her body. Rumors that Ms. Hebert was a substance abuser. Rumors that Ms. Hebert had joined the Merchants. On, and on, and on.
However… Any detective should have seen through all of that bullshit, even without having some idea of the plot.
If they were invested, anyway, Shinji mused, as he considered the alternative. That with the budget stretched as it was, one detective assigned to the case, and this being Brockton Bay—with a higher crime rate than Chicago… well, there was only so much time and attention to go around. Especially with someone up top apparently leaning on them to close this quickly and not look too closely, and someone else wanting them to take a deeper look.
Politics, he sighed, leaning back in his chair and looking up at his ceiling as he considered his next move. Of course it would be inter-departmental politics that helped bring about the rise of Khepri.
Not that that was necessarily a bad thing, in the end. After all, she had saved the world.
In a web-novel. Where the author was notorious for bullshit like 'infinite mass!' and retcons. Ugh. Fuck me, I don't want to live here.
Pushing up out of his seat, Shinji made his way to his work room. Unlocking the heavy steel door, he glanced at the monitor displaying the hidden cameras around and inside the house and checked for any motion alerts. Finding none, he moved over to the safe in one corner and opened it. Skipping over the stored guns and ammo as the interior light came on, he found what he was looking for on the top shelf. He stuffed the auto-lockpick and the data dog into his black suit's pockets. Pulling on his gloves, he picked up the snub-nosed .38 sitting in a cloth pocket on the door and slipped it into his pants pocket.
Closing up the safe, he looked around the room that was one part machine shop, one part panic room, making sure everything was as he had left it. He locked up and left, grabbing his trench coat, along with his work computer, on the way out. Looking over his car as he got in, he hummed and decided to get it washed and waxed soon—he liked being able to see his reflection on it and it was starting to get dirty with road salt and mud.
It was a short drive into the neighborhood where Smith had lived. Finding the man's apartment building, Shinji pulled into the parking space directly in front of the front office. Making his way inside, he was greeted by a frown from the older woman sitting behind the desk. "Can I help you?"
"Detective Kusanagi, BBPD," he flashed his badge and ID. She held out her hand and he passed it over. After studying it for a moment, she handed it back.
The woman's attitude was a bit improved when she asked, "What can I do for you, detective?"
"Last night, one of your residents was killed. Detective Robert Smith. Unfortunately, Detective Smith was in the middle of an important case and I've been assigned to it in his place. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I'd like it if you could show me to his apartment and let me in, to collect any case files he left inside."
The woman winced. "Ah, Rob. I'm sorry to hear that. He was a good man. Always friendly and willing to lend a hand to the other residents. Did you know he worked part time as a handyman here, when he wasn't on duty?" She opened a drawer and took out a set of keys. "Here. This is the key to his apartment. Room 401. I need to stay and mind the front or I'd show to it, but just take those stairs there and head on up. Let me know if you need anything else."
"Will do," Shinji nodded and made his way towards the stairs. Finding the room, he made his way inside, wrinkling his nose at what he found.
It was a complete pigsty. More what he'd expect of a frat-boy than a man in his early 30s. Beer cans covered the table in front of the living room couch, along with an overflowing ash tray. Dirty dishes were piled in the sink and scraps in a bucket on the stove. The bedroom floor was covered in clothes and the bed unmade, and the room stank of body odor. The bathroom… the less said about it the better.
Finding a single pristine room, Shinji saw it was a small home office. Moving over to the computer, he tapped at the mouse and found it was locked. Pulling out the data dog, he drew out one of the cables and plugged it into a USB port on the front.
Alright, let's see the directory tree…
Looking over the folders on the computer, he selected the ones he specifically wanted to copy directly. Then, just to be sure, he told it to scan for documents, audio files, videos, emails, and compressed files—making sure to exclude operating system and program specific files.
/Scanning for selected file types…/
/Copying files to internal storage…/
/Done./
/Scan for other files? Y/N?/
Selecting 'no,' Shinji disconnected the illegal piece of tinker tech and pocketed it. Looking around the room, he frowned as he saw scoring on the screws holding the air vent in place. "Sloppy," he sighed, pulling his Leatherman out and unscrewing the vent. Sliding his hand in, he found a phone and a USB external hard drive. Pulling a second cable from the data dog, he plugged it into the phone. A few moments later, it had copied all of the contacts, texts, calls, and emails.
Putting everything away, and putting the vent back as he'd found it, Shinji left the apartment and locked up, before heading down to the front desk. Thanking the woman there, he handed over the key and made his way back to his car. Sitting in the chilly car as the heater warmed up, Shinji considered his next move.
Opening up his work laptop, he set it up in the mount for it over his passenger seat. Unlocking it, he plugged the data dog in and dumped the files over, then started going through them.
Spreadsheet with everything he has—at least he was neater with his notes than his home. Audio and video from a body cam from interviews with faculty, students, and Taylor. Transcripts of every interview. An interview with Hess's caseworker. Personal notes—here we go.
Opening up the personal notes, Shinji began reading. The more he read, the angrier he got.
Smith had quickly determined that something more was going on and sussed out the gaslighting/character assassination campaign. He had also determined that everyone he was talking to was a hostile witness, and either reticent or outright lying. Smith even suspected something fishy going on with the PRT, but that particular lead ended with a string of letters and numbers that didn't correspond with anything in the documents the data dog had pulled from his PC.
Humming, Shinji plugged in the USB drive he'd pulled from the vent. The drive was encrypted, so he unplugged it, plugged it into the data dog, and set it to decrypt. A few minutes later, spent reading over more of Smith's notes, the tool finished and he was able to plug the drive in and get access to the files. "Alright, let's see what you were hiding."
The answer to that was a lot. Blackmail on nearly every officer on the force. Detailed notes on who he was selling information to and for how much, along with locations and codes to Smith's physical cash storage.
Quadruple-dipping motherfucker. I'd be impressed if I weren't so pissed, Shinji chuckled as he saw that Smith was selling info to every gang in town—Empire, ABB, Merchants, and Coil. And then, there was the real dirt. Identities of Empire capes and a few other capes in the Bay, along with one he'd made notes on recently—Sophia Hess, aka Shadow Stalker. Smith had been busy, it seemed.
So, he figured out who she was when the caseworker came on strong and he realized there was a PRT connection. Makes sense. Started digging into the caseworker, found out she wasn't social services but actually PRT. Got her name and address, along with her schedule, but didn't had a chance to go have a peek around her home and see if he could get into her files.
Checking his watch and seeing it was nearly six in the afternoon, Shinji pulled up the address for the Hebert residence and made his way over. He parked behind the beat up pickup in the driveway and nearly broke his neck when the first board of the stairs gave way. Cursing quietly as he carefully extricated his foot from the rotten board, he hurried the rest of the way up and knocked on the front door.
He heard footsteps through the house a moment before the front door cracked open. A man's voice on the other side asked, "Can I help you?"
"Me. Hebert?"
The door opened wider and the tall, lanky form of Daniel Hebert frowned at him from the other side of the door. "Yes?"
Shinji pulled out his badge. Daniel took it and looked it over. "Detective Kusanagi, BBPD. I'd like to ask you and your daughter some questions, if you don't mind."
"Taylor?" Daniel asked, a frown pulling at his face. "Is this about the school…?"
"Yes. Do you mind if I come in?"
"Sure," Daniel nodded, holding the door open for him. "Get you something to drink? Coffee?"
"That'd be great. It's freezing out there."
"Yeah," Daniel agreed, leading him deeper into the house. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, he called, "Taylor! We have a guest! Come to the kitchen!"
In the kitchen, Shinji took a seat at the table as Daniel put on a pot of coffee. Turning around, the taller man leaned against the counter. "We've already talked to the police, Mr. Kakashi."
Shinji's lips twitched. "Kusanagi. You can call me Shinji, if it helps."
"Shinji. Alright. Call me Danny."
"As for why I'm here, well, the officer assigned to your case was killed last night. I've been assigned this case in his place."
"Oh," Danny murmured. "I see."
They looked up at the sound of quiet footsteps coming into the kitchen. A tall, lanky girl wearing a baggy sweater and jeans looked uncertainly between us. "Dad?"
Danny waved her over and sat down at the table, with Taylor beside him. "Taylor, this is Detective Shinji. He's taking over for Detective Smith."
"Oh," she sighed. "Alright."
"I've got some questions, if you don't mind."
The girl frowned and looked away, huddling in on herself. "I don't know why. It's not like anyone's ever bothered to listen before."
Danny winced at that. Shinji took out his digital recorder and notepad. "Well, I'm listening now. Why don't you tell me what happened? Start at the beginning and leave nothing out."
"You mean, the locker…?"
The detective sent her an encouraging smile. "Why don't you start where you feel it begins?"
Taylor frowned, before a determined look came over her face. She stood up and walked away. "I'll be right back."
As they waited, the coffee began to fill the pot. Danny poured two cups before asking, "What do you take in yours?"
"Black, please." Shinji hated people fixing coffee for him, but it wasn't polite to take over someone else's kitchen, so if someone was offering it was always black.
Accepting the cup Danny handed over, Shinji sipped at it as Taylor came back with a notebook. She sat down and opened it up. "It began last year when I got back from summer camp. That's when Emma started bullying me."
Danny choked on his coffee. "Emma? Emma Barnes?"
"Yes," Taylor nodded.
"Taylor, why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't want to put any more on your plate, after mom…"
The man sighed, collapsing into his seat. Putting his coffee down, he reached over and pulled the girl into his side. "I'm sorry. I wasn't in a good place and I fucked up."
Shinji gave them a few moments before Taylor finally looked up again. When she did, he pointed to the journal. "What is that?"
"It's a journal of everything the trio have done to me in the last year and a half. As detailed as I could make it."
"How detailed? Like, stealing your things, or hitting you? Or just people saying mean things?"
"Everything."
Shinji nodded. "Alright. Unfortunately, most of that is going to be inadmissible as evidence."
"That's what Detective Smith said."
"However," Shinji held up a hand and Taylor raised an eyebrow. "If any of it is verifiable, it could lead to something. And it establishes a pattern of behavior. So, skip all the minor stuff. I'm looking for destruction of property, theft, or assault here."
"…Emma stole my mother's flute out of my locker, crushed it, and rolled it in dog crap."
"She did what?!" Danny roared, pushing his chair back. "I'm going to call Alan and—"
"Alan Barnes? The lawyer?" Shinji asked, and Danny paused. "Mr. Hebert, Detective Smith's notes said you were a friend of his. Do you believe your friend is going to take your side over his daughter?"
Danny's jaw flexed, his teeth grinding. "No. But—"
"Listen, Mr. Hebert. I want to do something about this as much as you do. Part of why I became a cop in the first place was being tired of seeing good people get shit on and bad people get away with it—or profit from it. However, you have to ask yourself, which do you want more? Do you want to call your friend and ask him about this, and potentially have him destroy any evidence to protect his daughter, or do you want to actually do something that will last?"
Turning to Taylor, he continued, "Taylor, I'm going to be honest with you. If it was fellow students who did this to you, then at most, they're going to get put in a juvenile detention center for a couple of years. Then, when they turn eighteen, their records will be expunged and they'll be released. That's if this makes it that far. And you'd need a mountain of evidence to even get that."
"So it's pointless?"
Shinji shook his head. "I didn't say that. At the end of the day, it was the school's responsibility to provide a safe learning environment—which they failed to do. If we can prove that, we can bring down the ones responsible for letting it happen. Your principal and her staff. A lawsuit, yes, but also potentially criminal charges."
"But they, the trio, aren't going to be punished?"
"Being that they're minors, probably not," Shinji shook his head. "The juvenile justice system is set up to be forgiving for anything short of murder."
"But—"
"Or attempted murder." Taylor blinked. "I was reading Detective Smith's notes. It says that Panacea was required to treat your wounds?"
"Yes," Danny nodded. "Is that relevant?"
"Maybe. I don't want to offer any false hope, but if it was severe enough to require Panacea, the argument could be made for attempted murder. Which is why we need to establish a pattern of behavior, and prove that the faculty are lying to cover it up for whatever reason. So, Taylor, if you would?"
The girl nodded and began going through her little journal line by line, reciting every instance that she felt was worth mentioning, with Shinji occasionally either asking for more detail or telling her to ignore future instances. The email harassment campaign was especially good, in his opinion, as that was easily provable with a subpoena and would show that it wasn't just her making things up. In fact, if the wording was loose enough, they could potentially just seize the school's email servers entirely, along with their backup media, and go through everything on them.
"Got another one of those?"
Shinji looked up from where he was leaning against the Hebert's front porch railing, a cigarette hanging from his lips. Finding Danny standing beside him, he hummed and nodded, pulling a blue pack from his jacket pocket. Shaking one out, he offered it to the older man and pulled out his lighter. Flipping it open, he waited as Danny lit his smoke and coughed quietly, before snapping it closed and putting the pack and lighter away.
"Apple flavored? I thought they banned everything but un-flavored and menthol."
"They did. In America. The ABB run a little business getting imports from Japan and other places. Don't ask me how. Probably some Mover cape."
"Isn't that illegal?" Danny raised an eyebrow.
Shinji shrugged. "Maybe. Don't tell anyone. There might be a police officer listening."
Laughing quietly, Danny sighed and looked our over the yard. "What the hell am I supposed to do now? I have… completely failed as a father."
"Mm." Shinji considered for a moment before answering, "Stop failing. Figure out what you're doing wrong and fix it. Moping about what's already done isn't going to help anything. All you can really do is move forward."
"That's easier said than done."
"Do or do not. There is no try." Taking a drag, Shinji let it out in a sigh. "But you've got a long road ahead. That girl… I've seen worse off, but what was done to her was just plain evil. Systematically breaking her down. Someone she thought of as a sister, her best friend, striking where she was most vulnerable over and over…"
Danny's hands clenched on the wooden railing, his knuckles popping from the pressure. "I am going to strangle that little shit."
"No, you're not. You're not going to be within one hundred feet of her, if you can help it. You're not going to do Taylor any good, getting sent to jail."
Danny made a frustrated sound at that. "I just don't want those brats picking on my daughter anymore."
Shinji nodded. After a moment of thought, he said, "What she needs is something to give her some self-confidence and a way to defend herself, if they get physical again."
"What, like pepper spray, or a taser—"
Shinji looked at the man like he was stupid. "No, Danny. You can take that away from someone and use it against them. And it's not allowed in a school anyway. They'd flag it coming in through the metal detectors."
"So then what?"
"Self-defense training. Martial arts."
"We don't have the money for that."
"You wouldn't be getting anything worth a shit anyway," Shinji shook his head. "I've been to every dojo in town. The McDojos teach McKarate and KcKung fu. They're garbage. There are a couple of good ones over in Chinatown, but…"
"ABB territory. I'm not sending my daughter over there to get kidnapped—" He paused, before turning to look at the Japanese man beside him. "Erm. That is, not that all—"
Shinji waved him off. "No, you're right. Sending a young woman over there is likely to get her kidnapped if she's not Asian. Or a boy. Anyone who doesn't look like they can defend themselves, really. They don't exactly discriminate on who they pick up for their slave trade. There's a good place that teaches Krav Maga on the north side of town, but that's Empire territory. The instructor is good, but they aren't cheap, and you said money is an issue."
"So then, what?"
"Ask her if she wants to learn. It's going to require some sacrifice on her part. And you'll need to change the grocery list a little when you go shopping. I'll be here at 5 a.m. and 6 p.m.."
"You'll do it?" Danny asked, raising an eyebrow. "You've had training?"
Shinji nodded. "I've been through a few different schools over the years, and the police academy instructors were actually former military, so that's what they taught."
"Why would you go that far?"
"Because I was a scrawny kid with bully problems of my own, once upon a time. I was about her age, when Leviathan sank Kyushu and we came to America. Brockton Bay was not exactly welcoming. We aren't that far from my home and I'm up at that hour for my own routine anyway. Stopping here to do my evening routine and teach a bit won't be out of the way."
Danny sighed. "It's not going to stop if she doesn't do something to stop it, is it?"
"No. And bullies hate being challenged. If you just fight back, they only try harder. No, the level of challenge has to be… disproportionate. Or at least seem that way. It has to be something they'll remember. You have to be willing to accept that she's probably going to get expelled for this—but that it'll be worth it."
Chuckling quietly, the man shook his head. "Alright. If you're willing to teach her."
"I am."
"I'll go ask her and see what she says."
"Alright. You have my number. Call me and let me know her decision."
With that, Shinji made his way over to his car, flicking his butt into one of the garbage cans on the curb. From there, he drove around the city, looking. Eventually, he found what he was looking for—a group of mixed Asian ethnicity people sitting in front of an apartment building with a couple of little sports cars, all of them wearing gang colors. Moving around to the back of the building, he found the smokers' hangout at the back door, unoccupied. Checking for cameras and finding none, he parked and slipped inside after pulling on his gloves. Finding the fire alarm, he pulled it and left out the same door he'd come in.
Moving around to the front, he found the group distracted and peering into the building as people began rushing out. Slipping up to one of the rice boxes with the window down, he pulled the revolver from his pocket and tossed it behind the driver's seat. Then, he left the parking lot and made his way back to his car.
It was well after dark when Shinji finally pulled into his garage. Heading inside, Shinji put his coat on the hanger and made his way deeper into his home. Taking off his tie, he dropped his work computer and other things off in his home office.
Stripping down, he took a quick shower and changed into a comfortable set of jogging pants and hoodie, leaving his long hair down as he went into the kitchen and began working on supper. Shinji let his mind wander as he worked, turning over the case.
Alright, how do I want to attack this? he wondered as he went about making stir fry.
On the kids' side, I need to start questioning everyone. They're minors, though, so I might get stonewalled by the school or parents unless they want to come forth with information. In which case, it'll be against Taylor. So, I need some leverage first. Maybe a stakeout and a little B&E so I can snoop. If I could get into someone's phone records and pull their texts, that would be best. So how… ah. If Taylor agrees, ask her for the girls' schedule in the morning. If she doesn't, come back tomorrow evening and ask. They wouldn't be allowed to have their phones on them for P.E., so those would be stored in their lockers. Figure out which ones belong to the bitches three, then copy 'em. Use that to confront them and start asking pointed questions. Maybe lean on one hard enough to make her give up the others… Could work.
He had nearly finished cooking when his cell phone rang. Answering it, he put it on speaker. "Danny. Did Taylor make a decision?"
"Yes. She'd like to try it."
"Alright. I'll be by in the morning."
They said their goodbyes and Shinji shut off the heat before plating his food. Taylor first thing. Ask about the schedule and see if she knows what lockers they use. Go in, speak with Blackwell. Arrange to start questioning faculty and students. Need to talk to Panpan about Taylor's treatment. Probably best if I just rock up to their house and knock in an official capacity and go from there. Although… No, no need to bring Crystal into this.
His course of action set, Shinji went through his usual nightly workout routine, took another shower, and hit the sack.