Friday, March 20, 2009

Homicide - Hussey: Cop humor - Blue Moon

And here's the conclusion of the chapter Detective Hussey entitled "Blue Moon". It was a very long chapter, so I broke it into 4 parts. Billy is back again -- if you haven't read the first three segments, I suggest you do so first.

Several years after the death of John Thileson, on a brutally hot Friday night in August, a sixteen-year-old girl was spending the night with her girlfriend. According to police reports, the girlfriend's step-father crept into the guest room and sexually assaulted Cynthia Parnell. It was a crying Cynthia who called her father at 1:10AM and brought him and several officers from the police department.

Shortly after the step-father's arrest for sexual battery, a sleepy Lieutenant Andy Yatchesky, who was now in charge of the department's Criminal Investigation Bureau, fumbled for the telephone. "No, I just got to sleep," he wearily told the dispatcher. "I'll be right down."

The midnight shift was now in charge, and one of the colorful and sometimes unbalanced members of that shift was Officer Billy Hyatt. He had recently transferred to the night shift so he could be left alone. Tonight was Billy's turn to answer the PBX switchboard and man the front desk. Usually the desk was worked by a trainee, someone who was injured, or in this case, the next man in the rotation. It was considered mundane duty, and no policeman worth his salt wanted to be inside on the midnight shift.

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It was nearly 2:30 when Lieutenant Yetchesky came in—bleary eyed, carrying his jumbo cup of 7-11 coffee. He nodded at Officer Hyatt and climbed the stairs to the bureau offices. Andy unlocked the door, turned on the lights and took a seat at the secretary's desk.

The old C.I.B. offices were located at the top of a stairway on the second floor of the police department. When you got to the top of the stairs you saw an opaque glass door with "Criminal Investigations" emblazoned in large orange letter. To the left of the door were two 4'x 8' clear glass windows, painted green from the floor to about 3 feet high. This allowed people coming up the stairs to see the secretary seated at her desk, and in turn it allowed the secretary to see anyone who might be approaching the C.I.B. offices. Also in this office vestibule were two metal chairs. The backs of the chairs were placed against the glass windows, facing the secretary's desk. This allowed the secretary to continue watching for anyone coming in, while keeping an eye on suspects and witness who might be seated in the chairs, waiting to see detectives.

It was at this secretary's desk that Lieutenant Yetchesky had positioned himself. His office was cluttered with paperwork from the day before, and although he would normally have conducted an interview in what would undoubtedly be a high profile case there, he was relatively sure he would be undisturbed this time of the morning.

One of the new patrol officers escorted the victim and her father upstairs to the detective bureau. Andy did not know the patrolman. God, they look so young, Andy thought.

The girl and her father were ushered into the chairs in front of the desk. Both looked as if they'd been crying. Andy knew it would be a long night.
The interview continued well into the morning. It was painful for all involved, and Andy was unsure of the time. He was however, vaguely aware of some movement on the stairwell landing outside the windows. He was deep into the interview.

As the lieutenant looked up to ask another pertinent question, he realized what he had heard. There, in the window, between the heads of the victim and witness was the face of a balding, veteran police officer. It wasn't his normal face though—it was contorted, tongue lolling from one side of his mouth and—What the hell was hanging from his nose?

This is all I need, Andy thought. Billy Hyatt continued to change his facial expressions from one to another. The lieutenant continued the interview, trying not to acknowledge the presence of the officer outside the window.

Now one thing Billy hated worse than anything was being ignored. It hadn't worked at home when he was a kid, it hadn't worked in school, and it didn't work now. Billy had always been a force to be reckoned with. He wasn't happy until someone was begging him to stop.

Andy actually had more questions, but decided to cut the interview short. "Do you have anything to add?" Andy inquired of the victim's father? Billy's face had left the window. Thank God, Andy thought, breathing a sigh of relief. He'd have to have a talk with Officer Hyatt.

As the father continued to describe the fate he hoped awaited the rapist of his daughter, the Lieutenant noticed more movement outside the windows. Hyatt was back. This time he had pushed the back of a chair, carefully and quietly, up against the window. What the hell was he up to now?

Andy didn't have to wait long to find out. A feeling of sickness traveled through him. It seemed like the temperature in that room had gone down twenty degrees. He could no longer concentrate on the words of the witness. There, outside the glass windows of the C.I.B. offices, a police officer in full uniform had removed his gun belt and was undoing his pants.

"I can't fuckin' believe it," Andy muttered to himself.

"What?"the startled father asked.

"Nothing," Andy said quickly.

All of a sudden Andy Yatchesky's worst fears were realized. There, in the window, and at the same level of the faces of the people he was interviewing, was the hairy, naked backside of Officer William Hyatt.

The Lieutenant panicked. He was biting his lip, he was shuffling papers, he was trying to think. Maybe he could get them into the back without them seeing it. No, surely when they stood up they'd see it. How would he explain it?

Of course when all was said and done, Andy realized it would end up his responsibility.

The sweaty, brown asshole remained pressed against the glass for what seemed to Andy like an eternity. His mouth was dry by now, and he had resigned himself to the fact that any minute, the little girl would look up, see the unthinkable, scream, and his career would be over. Then just as suddenly as it had appeared, the rear end was gone. As Billy climbed down, the back of the chair banged against the window. Cindy's father turned his head to the glass.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Don't know," Andy said hoarsely, looking down, wiping his brow, and knowing his career was over.

The interview was concluded and a very shaky, weary, Lieutenant Yatchesky locked the door to the bureau and escorted the Parnells downstairs. Officer Hyatt was seated back at the desk and talking on the phone. As they passed by, Billy waved and said, "Have a good night."

Mr. Parnell remarked what a nice officer he was.

"Oh yeah, a real peach." Blue Moon.


Anonymous said...

Funny. I think I'd kill him. Good job.

Autumn Jordon

Terry Odell said...

I've chatted with Detective Hussey recently -- he said he's had trouble accessing the comments (probably high security at the Sheriff's Office computer system), but he appreciates that folks are reading.

(Killing Billy would probably have generated too much paperwork!)

Melanie Atkins said...

ROFLMAO! I would kill him, too. My God.

Maryann Miller said...

Funny stuff. I love a good, sharp wit.

Mary Ricksen said...

Kill the creep, but be nice about it.
Smile through the paperwork and the forced vacation.

Donnell said...

I hope Detective Hussey knows he has a sure writing career in front of him if he decides to moonlight and/or retire. Great job Terry and our thanks for Detective Hussey and his service.

Anonymous said...

Thanks to everyone for the kind words. Police work used to be so much fun, its just a chore these days. Guess everything is that way. It's a lot of fun to remember and even more fun to put the stories into words. I appreciate everyone reading the stories. Take Care.

Terry Odell said...

The above comment was left by Detective Hussey -- guess he's working under cover these days!

Keep coming back--because his stories will continue to appear here.