Although Chandler officially reported to the deputy chief in charge of the Investigations Division, he frequently met directly with the chief of police, the city manager, the city council, and the mayor, giving him extraordinary power and access. Being the commander of SID was generally regarded as an essential stepping-stone to the chief’s office.
Then Chandler figured it out: the Sarge’s Place. That’s where McLanahan must have picked it up. He decided to be affable. “Ah yes, the Sarge’s Place,” he said. “I used to go there when I was a sergeant. We used to bullshit about ongoing investigations all the time over a few brews. I’ll bet that place is full of cops ready to give you all kinds of information about the shootings.” He had guessed right. A couple of hours ago at the Shamrock, a dozen cops had come in after first swing’s shift change, congratulated Patrick on chewing out the chief on local TV, and volunteered information on the Sacramento Live! shootings. “Unfortunately, I can’t offer you any information, and I caution you on relying on rumors and guesses you might hear at the bar.”
“Yeah. Everyone’s ‘cautioning’ me but no one’s telling me anything,” Patrick said. “My brother is in critical condition in the hospital after being shot with a damned MP-5 along with three other cops, and three guys are dead. But none of the families have been told a thing. Is this the way the city is going to handle this situation? How would it look for me to go to the TV stations and tell them the city isn’t briefing the families on the status of the investigation, that you’re leaving us completely in the dark?”
Chandler slammed the car door, walked around to the other side, and got right in Patrick’s face. “I respond well to threats, Mr McLanahan, but I guarantee you it won’t be a response in your favor. In fact, I get downright disagreeable. Tell me, sir, is that what you want right now?”
Chandler saw McLanahan tighten his jaw and square his body toward him. Was he going to get into a fight with this guy? His mind was turning over scenarios in rapid-fire succession when, to his surprise, McLanahan just… crumpled. His shoulders sagged, his arms went limp, his head drooped, and his knees looked rubbery. Was this some kind of sucker-punch ruse? An astonished Chandler, ready to defend himself, heard the guy sobbing! Here was this guy, short-probably no more than five eight-maybe two hundred pounds, but solidly built, like a wrestler or rugby player-and shit, he was actually crying! Paul McLanahan had quickly gotten a reputation of being a tiger who could handle any situation with calm and control-he certainly proved himself at the Sacramento Live! shootout-but obviously his guts didn’t run in the family.
“Jesus-c’mon, Mr McLanahan, it’s all right,” Chandler said soothingly, but not moving any closer. This might still be a sucker punch, although the guy really looked like he was losing it big-time.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” McLanahan said hoarsely through his muffled sobs. “Nothing like this has ever happened before. After my father’s death, I was so afraid that Paul would be next. Our mother’s had to be sedated, she was so upset. Paul could lose his arm. Oh God, I don’t know what to do! I don’t know what I’m going to tell our mother…” He was babbling, his conflict and fears pouring out all at once. Chandler thought the guy was going to collapse right on the hood of his car. For crying out loud, mister, get a grip!
Well, he couldn’t very well leave him sobbing like a baby in the parking lot. “Come with me, Mr McLanahan,” Chandler said. He led him to the side door, which had a sign on it that said No Admittance-Door Blocked-Use Main Entrance and an arrow pointing toward the Highway Department door. Chandler unlocked the door, then stood in the doorway and blocked it until he could shut off the burglar alarm, using the keypad. Inside was a reception area furnished with a couple of desks, several file cabinets, and what looked like a communications center setup; there were two banks of radios, computer terminals, and several recharger stations for handheld radios.
McLanahan followed Chandler past the reception area and down a hallway. They passed an empty conference room with a sign on the open door reading Classified Briefing In Progress-No Admittance, continued past some more doors and a break room/exercise room, and finally came to a door marked Captain. Chandler punched a code into a CypherLock keypad, unlocked the door, asked McLanahan inside, and offered him a seat. Patrick rested his elbows on his knees and hung his head while Chandler crossed behind his desk and sat down.
“I’m sorry to be keeping you like this…”
“Forget it,” Chandler said. “Can I get you something? A soda? Iced tea?” From the odor he detected, McLanahan had already had a few pops before he came over here-he’d obviously needed something to ratchet up his courage enough to mouth off at a cop. What was it with these burnouts? Past glories gone, living vicariously through their smarter, more successful siblings. Good example of white trash.
“You cops don’t keep anything stronger in the desk?” McLanahan asked, trying to sound jokey but coming across as hopeful.
“I’m afraid a bottle of rotgut in the desk drawer went out with Philip Marlowe and
“A soda would be fine then,” McLanahan said. Chandler went out to the break room. When he came back a half minute later, McLanahan had an elbow on the desk, one hand hiding his eyes and his other hand wrapped around his mid-section as if he was going to be ill.
Chandler returned to his seat behind the desk. “I’m sorry, Mr McLanahan, but there’s very little I can tell you about the investigation concerning the shootout,” he said. He prayed McLanahan wouldn’t get sick in his office or start crying again. “I wish there
“Have you made any arrests yet?”
“No, not yet,” Chandler replied. “But we have some strong leads. The helicopter the gang used to make their getaway from the Yolo Causeway was seen at Placerville Airport shortly after the incident, so we’re concentrating our search in the foothills. This is highly confidential information, Mr McLanahan. Please don’t share it with anyone, not even your mother.”
“All right,” McLanahan said. His voice sounded as if it was going to break again. “I’m afraid we won’t have the money to care for Paul. The doctors say he could lose his left arm, that he might not ever be able to talk again…”
“If it’s any comfort to you and your family, Paul will receive full medical benefits,” Chandler said. “If he can’t return to work, he’ll receive full disability benefits. That’s his entire base salary, tax-free, for the rest of his life.”
“Disability?” McLanahan gasped. Chandler saw the guy’s face grow pale, then green. “You mean, they’ll classify him as disabled?”
“I didn’t say that, Mr McLanahan…”
McLanahan abruptly got to his feet. “I… I think I’m going to be sick,” he gasped.
Oh, for Christ’s sake, Chandler cursed to himself. This guy is a total wussie. “Out the door, to your left, make a right, three doors on the left, men’s room.” McLanahan nodded, clutched his midsection as if he had a cramp, then rushed out of the office. He was gone for several minutes. Chandler finished a cigarette, then got up to find out if the guy was all right. He ran headlong into him coming back to the office. “Are you all right, Mr McLanahan?”
“I… I’m so sorry… jeez, I’m so embarrassed,” McLanahan said. “This whole horrible tragedy has got me all tied up in knots.”
“Perhaps you’d be better off if you cut back on the booze a little,” Chandler told him sternly. “Your family could use your support, and you’re in no condition to give it to them like this. Go home. We’ll keep you posted on the progress of the investigation.”
“Can I visit you again? Can I get some regular updates? Anything?”
Oh
“Look, Mr McLanahan,” Chandler said patiently, “you’re the brother of a member of this department. I’d hate to turn you away, but I will if you insist on stopping by here often and asking a lot of questions that no one except the chief can answer.”
“But why?” McLanahan whined.
“Because if any unofficial, inaccurate information got out about those killers, it could create a panic in this city,” Chandler explained. “If you call first, and promise not to take advantage of the privilege, you can come down and I’ll give you any information I can, which I can tell you won’t be much due to the sensitive nature of this case.
