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The Story Unfolds...
Season Four, Episode Twenty Eight.. §§ Smoke Screen §§
Debut Launch: December 1st, 2005.
************************************************** From:
"Robert Gutheim" <rguthei1@twcny.rr.com> Date: Thu Dec 1, 2005 12:05 pm Subject: Trouble for
Johnny
Johnny's Landrover was full of gas. ::Which isn't always cheap, especially around
LA.:: he thought.
Gage was driving into work that morning, hoping to get there as early
as he could so he could avoid the wrath of The Phantom of Station 51.
He was almost there
when he heard a strange explosive like sound coming from a nearby alley. Gage pulled up nearby and
ran into it only to find a badly wounded woman lying on the ground of the trash filled alley.
He ran over to her and began checking her vitals as best he could without a BP cuff. Her
respirations were either extremely slow or nonexistent. Then he sighed. ::Not that it would have
helped much since I'm not getting a pulse anymore. And there's no way she can stay alive with
a head wound this bad.:: he said, seeing gray matter sprayed out on the pavement near her shoulders.
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Not too far from the body, Gage concluded that he was dealing with a pistol shooting when he saw
a weapon on the ground. It was barely visible underneath a piece of box cardboard.
Contrary
to regulations, Gage picked up the gun with a pen through the trigger ring , worried about safety.
::It can't hurt anything if I move this a few feet out into the open into plain sight. I don't
want it to get kicked by those who're gonna respond to this mess. I still remember all too well what
happened after a head knocked Officer Vince got a hold of one of these that was allowed to stay
too close on scene..::
He was so engrossed with moving slowly so the safety disengaged gun
wouldn't jostle off his pen, fall, and go off, that he didn't notice the sirens of a police car pulling
up.
"Put down the gun, sir." a voice called out as a tall, dark haired husky looking man
in plain clothes walked up with his weapon drawn. It was pointing at Johnny.
Johnny realized
then what he must have looked like and he carefully set the gun and pen down at his feet, muzzle
pointed away from the newly arrived policeman and his partner. "I was checking the victim's vitals
to see if she was still alive. You see I'm a paramedic with the Los Angeles County Fire Department."
Gage explained, getting out his ID. "You are?"
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"I’m Sergeant Joe Friday, Los Angeles Police Department. This is my partner Bill Gannon. If you
don't mind, we'd like to take you downtown to answer a few questions." Sgt. Friday indicated.
"I'm on my way into work actually." Gage informed the detectives.
"We'll explain things to
your department chief." Gannon promised him. "Please come with us."
His look told Johnny that
he had absolutely no choice in the matter otherwise.
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Before too long Gage was being "interviewed." He was surprised that he felt like he had to defend
himself. "Look, detective, I was simply driving into work when I heard an explosive like sound
coming from the alley. I stopped and checked to see what it was, you know, in case anyone was hurt..."
His attempt at irony was lost on the detectives, even when he tapped his paramedic's I.D. that they
had taken out of his wallet that lay on the table in front of him.
They said nothing.
Johnny sighed, doing what they had asked and went on with his statement of account. "First thing
I did when I found the woman lying there was to check her over to see if she had any vitals signs.
"
The detectives looked at him blankly.
"You know, to see if I could get a pulse, or respirations,...
that kind of thing?"
The clarification finally registered on them and they both nodded in
understanding.
"Did you feel so compelled that you had to disturb a crime scene like that
past a pulse check?" asked Gannon.
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"Yeah, I had to see if there was more I could do for her, guys. I wasn't equipped to check her blood
pressure without a bp cuff and stethoscope since I don't carry them when off duty. And I didn't
like the way that gun was buried under all that trash. I didn't want anybody to step on it. Folks
can get themselves killed doing stuff like that."
Gannon and Sergeant Friday just looked at
each other with raised eyebrows and that made the young paramedic all the more nervous. ::Why
am I sweating? I didn't do anything wrong. Not seriously, anyway.:: he thought to himself.
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The silence going on between the two detectives began to bug Johnny and it made him start rambling
like he always did when he got uncomfortable about a situation. "You know maybe I should look
into carrying them with me. I don't think they would take up all that much space really. Then it
would be much more then a just simple first aid kit with me..."
Gannon and Friday said nothing
and started whispering to each other in conference.
Gage added more lamely, "...don't you think?"
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Meanwhile, at
Station 51, Cap was not in a good mood.
"Any of you seen Gage around? The rest of us are all set
for roll call and that twit is nowhere to be seen!" Cap roared to the rest of his men, including
Gage's partner Roy DeSoto.
Hank pegged the blonde paramedic with a stare. He didn't have to
ask the question again out loud. He didn't have to.
Roy sang out. "Nope. Sorry Cap. I don't know
where he is. And yes, by now he IS usually screaming for Chet's blood after getting nailed by
one of the Phantom's pranks." Roy explained, pointing to Chet, who was still standing at attention
to avoid catching flack from Hank's agitated ire.
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Just then the phone rang.
Mike Stoker fell out of line from in front of the Ward and jogged
into Cap's office to answer it. "L.A. County Station 51. Firefighter Stoker speaking."
##Stoker,
it's Gage. Is Cap there?##
"Yes, he is John. And he is not happy with you right about now.
I'd look out for him if I were y--" Stoker said as Cap grabbed the phone.
"Give me that, you
twit." Cap insisted. "Gage, where are you?!"
##Can't talk too long, Cap. It seems I'm being booked
on murder charges of all things.##
"What?!" Cap startled, almost dropping the phone.
Gage
explained. ##I'm using up my one phone call to let you know the scoop. Could you call the Fire Department
lawyer for me to come down here? I'm with a Detective Gannon and a Sergeant Friday..##
"Gage,
sit tight. I'll talk to McConikee and Houts see what I can do to get you that lawyer. Don't do anything
further to make it any worse, you twit." Cap said before hanging up.
Johnny grinned despite
himself. :: Cap's four letter apellative only comes out when he's emotionally riled up but thoroughly
in your camp.:: he thought. ::Now why aren't these detectives in mine?::
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************************************************** From : Roxy Dee <laterrapincabesa@hotmail.com>
Sent : Wednesday, December 7, 2005 1:22 PM Subject : The Holiday Rigmarole~~
##Ladies
and gentlemen.... The story you're about to read, is true.
Dragnet : The documented drama of
an actual crime. For the next thirty minutes, in cooperation with the Los Angeles Police Department,
you will travel step by step on the side of the law through an actual case from official police files.
From beginning to end, from crime to punishment, Dragnet is the story of your police force in
action.
You're a detective sergeant. You're assigned to the homocide and burglary division.
You've already received a call about a shooting in an alley down the block where you found an
off duty Los Angeles County firefighter paramedic, caught red handed, holding a revolver by a
pocket pen, standing over a recently deceased young hispanic woman. The victim was later discovered
to have died of a single gunshot wound to the back of the head. The dead woman has yet to be
identified by the county medical examiner's office.
Your soul suspect's name is Johnny Gage
who claims to work out of a county firehouse, 51's. So you check it out. That station agrees with
your man's account of current employment and you confirm the entity to be located nearby in the outlying
surburb of Carson City : an affluent community, that is most often perfectly crime free by your
recollection. A puzzling background origin for a possible rampant murderer.
To you, your perp
is nervous but he has yet to give away something with which you can peg on him that links the apparent
suspicious actions that you witnessed on scene earlier, to the killing. So far, Mr. Gage seems
to be just a case of a good samaritan who got there too late to do anything to help a damsel in distress.
But that could change. You've always realized that leads usually pop up into existence when
you least expect them to. You also get a call that an important piece of religious art has been
stolen from the oldest church in Los Angeles. There's no lead to its whereabouts either. Your
job? Find it and solve your woman in the alley's murder before Christmas time.....##
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::It was Wednesday, December 24th. It was cold in Los Angeles. We were working the day watch
out of the burgulary division. My partner's Bill Gannon. In the front office is Captain Mack. My
name's Friday. I'd gone across the street to buy stamps for some Christmas cards I was sending out.
It was 9:15 a.m. when I got back to Room 45; Burglary.:: thought Detective Joe Friday. ::I sat out
on a table in the squad room and I started to address the cards when Bill Gannon walked in carrying
a stack of Christmas boxes.::
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** Click for new mood music. :) **
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"Hi, Joe." greeted Bill Gannon.
"Hi."
"Christmas cards, huh?" chided Bill to Detective
Friday. "A little late aren't you?"
"Well, I was gonna send them out Monday, but we had that
stakeout." grunted the brown haired Joe Friday, who still musing over Johnny Gage's case file,
photos and the notes he had taken while talking to his fire station's captain, out of the corner
of his eye even as he carefully wrote down his addresses on his sparkling glittered envelopes.
"Take a look at this." Bill said tossing down a magazine of a newer brand down in front of him.
"What's this? A comic book?" Friday asked, picking it up as if it was going to bite him.
"No,
you look through and there's a picture on the next page." Bill demonstrated for him.
"Oh, yah.
I've seen those on the newstand." he said, no longer peering through the department store's magazine
cover's peek hole.
Bill was still grinning. "They have cloth pasted in them."
"Cloth?"
"In the ads." Bill elaborated with a finger florish. "If you want to buy a suit sample, it's right
there." he said, indicating what had captured his eye on the way to work enough to buy the issue.
"Hhmm, you mean you can feel it?" Friday asked.
Bill nodded. "Where you can try it out and
feel it. There was one for two hundred dollars."
"A suit?"
"Sure. The cloth comes from
Scotland."
Joe tossed down the magazine in disgust. "What's it made out of? Solid gold?"
"No. They got a special kind of goat over there. It's real smooth."
"Not a goat, Bill. A sheep."
"Well, a special kind of sheep then, cause it costs two hundred dollars." Bill said, still enamoured
with the sample he had found.
"You gonna get one?" Joe asked.
"I told Faye. She said wear
the sample." Bill sighed ruefully.
Joe Friday's eyes twinkled in a glad I'm not you look. He returned
to torturously addressing his Christmas envelopes. And he was good enough not to laugh.
"You
ought to get married, Joe." said Bill, going through the packages he had brought with him from the
locker room.
"Yeah?"
"Laundry, meals, cards.. All taken care of." Bill surmised, handing
to his partner an ornately wrapped blue and gold foil present, that was elongated the length of
his palm.
"Might help." Joe agreed, taking the gift, his expression still dead pan.
"Wanna
open it now? I always open a couple the day before." Bill smiled.
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Joe pegged him with a stare, ignoring his partner's brevity. "Stanley.."
"What's that? Your guess
on what I got you for a present?" Bill asked.
"The answer's no. I'm not guessing that this is
the Stanley wrench and screwdriver set I asked for. It's too light. Stanley's a fire captain, at
51's down in Carson, the boss who lines up our current murder man consideration, Johnny Gage, with
daily jobs to do with the county. You remember Hank? Cooks the best chowder this side of West Hollywood."
Joe admitted.
"Oh! I I remember him now. Didn't we speak to him about a case of a rescued bum
whose mattress was found to have contained eighty thousand dollars in cold cash last year?" Gannon
asked, snapping in fingers in discovery.
"We did. While he fed us that wonderful soup. I thought
that Johnny Gage's nervousness seemed familiar. Just got off the phone with Hank. He sounded just
like our medical man does in there. " Joe said, pointing to the interrogation room behind them that
had still had its one way glass view of the talking table lit up with Johnny Gage leaning both elbows
onto it from his chair while he continued to fidget.
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"He must have learned the anse trait from Hank Stanley directly." Bill said, studying the paramedic
carefully.
"Doesn't make him a murderer. A lot of people are a little jumpy under stress." Friday
said.
"Wouldn't jumpiness like that be a bad thing to have in a fire fighter?" replied Gannon.
"That's what I asked his captain. And do you know what his answer was to me, Bill?"
"No,
what?"
"He said he's put up with four years of Gage's twitchy mannerisms and has yet to see
a character flaw that he didn't like in the guy. Then he proceeded to tell me just how many people
his paramedic has been accredited with as having saved."
"How many?"
"1,017." Joe replied.
"That many?" Gannon gaped.
"Yep. Just got off the phone with the fire department division
chief, too. Mr. Houts. He came up with the same quote when I asked, when I checked up on Stanley's
statement from the phone call before."
Bill sagged onto the desk and set down his Christmas
packages. "Then we're back to square one on our alley girl."
Joe nodded.
Gannon wrinkled
his forehead. "Tell me again how we're able to hold murder charges over this Gage fellow?"
"He
was holding the gun. The woman's blood was on his hands. Because Cap says we gotta go through the
motions. And because there were no witnesses to support his alibi. "
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"None that we know of." Bill said, staring off into the distance as he leafed through the folder
containing their second assignment, to solve the church art theft.
"Say again?"
"We found
Mr. Gage at 0700, right?"
"Right."
"Well, doesn't holiday mass let off right about then?
Maybe our murder victim was a member of the congregation." Bill said. "This church's in the same
alley."
Joe immediately got up from his desk, abandoning his cards. "Then let's kill two birds
with one stone. Release Mr. Gage on bail. Say on five hundred dollars worth. He should be able to
afford that on a fireman's pay. If he can't cover it I'm sure his stationmates will do it for him."
"Aw, Joe. You're such a softy. You're letting him out so he can be home for Christmas."
Friday
looked up without expression. "I'm afraid things won't be so merry yet for him for a while, Bill.
Even if he's innocent. He's got a guilty conscience a mile long and for things he didn't even do.
Come on. Let's get to the church and see if we can get some of the right answers to our questions
that our squirrely Mr. Gage couldn't really answer for us."
"Anything else on the alley murder
showing up?" Gannon asked.
"Nothing else."
"I hope it stays quiet. I got more shopping
to do." Gannon says, reaching for his detective's jacket.
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*************************************************** From: "Cory Anda" <andacory@...> Date: Wed
Dec 7, 2005 6:16 pm Subject: The Ties That Bind..
The police man and the detective
were on the boulevard, heading back to the crime scene locales of both their currently assigned
jobs when another question just begged Bill to ask it. Joe had remained silent while he considered
the legal options for the young paramedic that he knew both he and his partner had already found
to be liked immensely by all concerned, including themselves.
Gannon broke the stillness as he
drove the Fairlane. "Anything doing?" he asked, pointing a nose at the quiet police CB radio in
the car.
Joe picked up the chin he had resting on his hand. "Hadding and Pryor were in on that
market holdup."
"Did they come up with anything?"
"Nah, the city's not talking much tonight."
Then he held up a package that he had already wrapped for someone in delicate fawn yellow from
out of a voluptuous pocket in his trench coat. "Do you see that? Real rice paper pages with persimmon
perfume. Leather binding."
Bill raised both his eyebrows over the steering wheel. "Joe, you'll
never learn." he said, clucking his lips in sympathy.
"Well, what's the matter?" Friday asked,
not changing his position or the present's, which he was holding up for Bill to admire.
"No
woman wants a stationery set. Get her something personal."
Joe started up with petulance. "It's
got her initials on it..."
Bill smiled. "No, no. You want something more sentimental. Romantic..."
he began to soothe gently in advisement.
Joe didn't move, talking fast from the corner of his
eye, immediately changing the subject. "WhatdidyagetFaye?"
"It's different in my case." pursed
Gannon with a stiff lip.
Joe insisted. "Whatdidya ..get ..Faye?" he said more slowly.
Bill
sighed. "....A sewing machine..."
Joe's face never changed. "That romantic?" he asked monotone.
Gannon had the grace to look uncomfortable. "Well, it is in a way."
"Why didn't you buy a
catcher's mitt?" Friday replied dryly. Right then, the car phone went off. Joe picked up the receiver
and turned up the volume. "Burglary. Friday. Yes, that's right. You've got the right department.....Ok,
Padre. We'll be right out. No, you can tell us about it there. Good night." and he hung up the phone.
Then he turned to his partner, "It's the Golden Church. About the theft. We're closest."
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::Bill and I checked in with the office and rode over to the church at the corner of Sunset
Boulevard and Main...:: narrated Friday's thoughts.
::The Old Mission Plaza Church. Founded in
1781, the year Los Angeles became a pueblo. The outside was typical early spanish design, complete
with scarlet azaleas lining the walls. They called it the Nuestra La Senora Reina. Her founders had
been mostly from Mexico. And their ordained priests still held services there. They had flattened
an old stable floor and had added grapevines, trees and flowers. A young priest crossed the courtyard
to meet us. He had been sitting on a stone bench reading his morning prayers as padres have done
here for one hundred and seventy two years.
We asked for Padre Xavier Rojas who had communicated
with us and we were told that he was inside. We entered a side door.....
The church seemed
to glow with the hundreds of moulded candles flickering on both sides of the altar and in the shrines
throughout the church.
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It was empty except for a few people praying. Surrounding the main altar were several old oil paintings
in gold frames. The air was heavy with the scent of advent flowers. We found Father Rojas near the
sanctuary looking at the nativity scene. He told us about the crib. It was a seventy dollar duplication
of the scene at Bethelem. The parishioners had taken up a collection for it thirty one years ago.
Every year it was put up December 22nd and taken down after the holy season.
It was beautiful.....
Except that one of the shepherds had lost an arm.. The sheep was old and cracked. And the infant
J*sus was missing. Father Rojas led us back into the sacristy... :: - - - - - - - - -
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"I'm
sorry to bother you men..." said Father Xavier Rojas.
"It's all right, Father." said Bill.
"...especially now, the holiday season."
Joe gave a small nod for Rojas to go on. "We cashed
our checks, Father. Will you tell us what happened?"
Bill elaborated more. "Or what you think
happened?"
Xavier sighed, folding over his intricate red and white robes. "I discovered the
statue was missing right after the six o'clock mass."
"Did you say the sixth?" Bill asked Xavier
about being its officiary.
"Yes. I started the collections, wrote them into the directory and
then last of all, I usually stop by the crib to pray." Father Rojas said.
"Was the statue
missing before the mass?" Joe asked him.
"I don't know. But it WAS there last night."
"How
late is the church open?" Gannon wanted to know.
"All night."
Joe brindled a bit. "You
leave it wide open so any thief can walk in?"
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"Particularly thieves, sergeant." smiled Xavier.
"You say it was there last night, Father? How
late?" asked the younger detective.
"Ten or eleven o'clock. We had confessions."
"No
one saw it after that?"
"One of the altar boys. He says it may have been there. He thinks
it was."
"Did he see it?" Friday clarified.
"He's not sure." distressed the padre.
"What's his name?" Bill asked softly, touching the priest on the arm to calm him.
"Hefferman."
Xavier led the two detectives over to a plain, heavily scratched desk, and slid over an open ledger
for them to view. "Here's the schedule. You'll find him in the names for every mass there."
The
two detectives made use of the information and leafed through the pictures of the congregation included
in the margins. One particular image halted them of a young female singer with a face they immediately
recognized. Her name was Maria Angel Lopez. Their young murder victim.
Joe did his best not to
sigh in reopened pain. "Was there a big crowd at the six o'clock mass this morning, Father?"
"Why
do you ask?"
Friday and Gannon both exchanged uncomfortable looks with each other.
"Padre.
I'm afraid we have some ...very bad news. Have you known this young woman long?" he said holding up
the dog eared photograph of Maria in a christening veil up so the father took it into a gnarled hand.
"It's important."
"Why, yes. This is Maria Lopez. She's a cousin of one of the firefighters who
attends church here twice a month with his mother. She's such a sweet child, and one with G*d. I've
known her all her life. I was the one who christened her a few days after she was born." he grinned
happily in remembrance.
"She's related to a firefighter?"
"Yes, to Marco Lopez from
Station 51, one of the county's I believe, located a few miles down the road."
Joe's face fell
even more dead pan and he rose from his seat, setting down an offered cup of tea that had grown cold.
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Bill took the older man's shoulders. "Father, I think you should sit down."
"Something's happened
to Maria? No!" the padre immediately guessed.
"Yes, padre. She was killed by gunfire only this
morning around seven, right after mass in the alley immediately behind the church."
Xavier's
breath caught deep in his throat and he caught himself on the edge of the desk. "And do you know her
killer yet?"
"We don't. Not for sure. There was only one man found standing over her body
when we got her shots fired call."
"And who was he? If he's not a patron of my church, he shall
surely pay with eternal d*mn*tion."
"His name is John Gage, and he's also a firefighter.
And we've learned that he's a paramedic, too,..." Bill said softly, reluctant to add the rest.
Finally, he said it. "...from Station 51."
Xavier's face blanched pure white and the two detectives
thought that they would have to catch him falling into a faint. But that never happened. "Oh, my
goodness. Has someone let Marco know about Maria's murder yet? This is simply ... terrible.. I--"
"Here, padre." said Friday, giving over the tea that would have been his. "Drink this. It'll help."
Bill went on. "We didn't know about the connection between Johnny Gage and Marco Lopez until now.
Rest assured that we'll get to the bottom of this, Father. We don't think that Gage is Maria's murderer.
His basic character doesn't fit the profile."
"I hope not. Pitting friend against friend can
scarcely be imagined, detective." he took in a big breath. "Do you want me to tell Mr. Lopez about
his cousin? He is working today at the station."
"We'll do it. Mr. Gage's probably already met
bail and may be headed there. We'll share the information with the two of them in the presence of
their superiors for moral support." Gannon said, rising. "Thank you, Father." said Friday, rising
from his chair.
"And about the statue, we'll solve that mystery, too." Bill promised.
"Was
there a large crowd of people here after the six o'clock mass?" Friday questioned Rojas before they
lost him in fresh grief.
"Not many. Uh,...People are usually going to work." said the tearful
padre.
"Did you notice anyone strange hanging about Maria in particular?"
"Not especially.
I came back here,.. I took off the vestments. I suppose it was ten, fifteen minutes before I went
back out into the church. She had stopped singing by then."
"Was it empty?" Bill plugged, looking
desperate for any new suspect.
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"No, people were coming in for the seven o'clock." Xavier sighed. "I'm so ashamed that I didn't even
notice that Maria had gone missing, too."
"Can you check with the other priests, Father?"
"I can."
"Please do. It's very important that we find the killer or else this young paramedic
may pay the unfortunate price."
"I shall, believe me. I will most diligently."
"Just for
a check on the pawn shops, on our second task, how much is the infant statue worth?" Bill asked Father
Rojas.
"In money?" Xavier frowned, genuinely surprised by the odd question. He was still stunned
by the news of the murder of Maria, the most devout celebre' of his congregation by far.
Friday
smiled then. "That's the point in pawn shops, Father."
The older gray haired man sighed and wiped
away an escaping tear. "Only a few dollars. We could get a new one, but it wouldn't be the same. We've
had children in the parish: they've grown up and married. It's the only J*sus they know."
"We
understand." said Friday.
"....And we've had children who died....Like her.." the Padre choked
up as he hugged Maria's choir picture. " It was the only J*sus they knew....So ...*sob* many
of the people who come here are simple people. They wouldn't understand, sergeant. It would be like
changing the evening star. "
"We'll do our best, Father." promised Bill Gannon.
"That's
why it would mean so much to the Lopezes, and to the church, to have it back for the first mass on
Christmas..." Rojas said.
"That's not very long, Father. Less than twenty four hours." Bill
frowned.
Friday silenced his partner with a small shake of his head. "If anything turns up,
you know where to get in touch with us."
"Yes." Rojas sighed. "It's sad, isn't it?"
"How's
that?" asked Bill.
"In so short a time, men learn to steal and kill."
Friday allowed the
grieving man of the cloth a look of hope. "Yes, but consider us, Father."
"Us?"
"If
some of them didn't, you and I would be out of work. Now let's try to save a paramedic, together,
so he won't find himself out of his." Joe said with conviction.
Next to him, Bill Gannon's
eyes shone with the same passionate light.
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************************************************** From: "Patti or Jeff or Cassidy" <theaterhost@voyagerliveaction.com>
Date: Thu, 8 Dec 2005 13:07:07 -0800 (PST) Subject: [EmergencyTheaterLive] Brown Against Blue
Captain Stanley was more than grateful that the station hadn't been called out of the
house yet while all personnel he had requested from L.A. Headquarters, came.
Houts was hanging
about in the office and the lawyer that Gage wanted was still gathering background information from
the others on shift. :: Man, ...Marco, Stoker, Kelly and Roy, are taking this bombshell event rather
well. Wish I could say the same for myself.:: thought Cap.
For the third time, he cleared
his throat and leaned on the map outside his own office door, waiting for it to reopen.
The
side door buzzer rang, making him jump.
"I got it!" called Chet and he skidded on the garage floor,
colliding with Boot, who was just as eager to get there, to see if Johnny had arrived yet from the
police station.
His face fell when he saw that it was two men, holding up detectives badges.
Stanley pulled up on his belt, fighting a lump in his throat that had formed ever since he had received
the phone call from Johnny about the murder wrap. He dropped all pretense of formality. "What's new,
fellas? Can I interest you in some coffee? We've a fresh pot in the kitchen on the stove." he tried
to grin.
Joe Friday surprised him by looking around the vehicle bay before speaking. "Is Fireman
Marco Lopez available, captain? It's rather important that we speak to him immediately."
"About
what may I ask?" Hank said, sweeping nervous fingers through his hair.
Right then, a happy
disturbance interrupted the three of them when the gang celebrated Gage's appearance through the station's
kitchen door.
Bill stopped smiling. "Uh, I think it would be better if we all talked together
about this captain. It'll be best for all concerned if we do. After all, fire crews harbor no secrets
from each other, or so I was led to believe by Chief Houts."
"That fact is definitely true,
detective. Uh,... This way..." he said, showing the two investigators to the kitchen table.
The
animated babble surrounding Johnny that was filled with worry, encouragement and energetic advice
dropped into silence instantly when Gannon and Friday took the chairs Cap offered them.
Hank's
face fell. "Fellas, have a seat. These two gentlemen have something to say that can't wait until later.
Marco, this is meant for your ears, too, so don't go wandering off."
Uncomfortable and clearly
uncertain, the gang did as they were told, filing in around the kitchen table. Stoker immediately
handed out coffee mugs to everyone, but forgot to pour anything.
No one noticed the oversight.
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Chet Kelly got up quickly, "I'll......go get the Chief and Johnny's lawyer. Is that ok if I do that,
pal?" he said looking at Gage.
Gage was still deciding how to place his arms in front of him through
his agitated state of worry. "Yeah. By all means! Uh,.. if that's all right by you guys....heh." he
said without humor to the two policemen.
They nodded. "That might be a good course of action.
We don't want to interfere with anyone's rights under the law." replied Bill Gannon.
When Chief
Houts and a young, fresh faced lawyer with a side part sat down, the nervousness in the kitchen grew
palpably. Especially when Houts, a department icon, refused a fill into his coffee cup.
Hank
cleared his throat. "Detectives, Bill Gannon and Joe Friday, everybody. I've been led to believe
that they're working on the case against Gage here." he said carefully, taking his own chair awkwardly.
"Not against Gage. We're simply a neutral investigative party. It'll be up to a courthouse
judge to decide Johnny's eventual guilt or innocence. We're merely here to seek out some details
to answers that haven't been made clear yet." He looked to the fire department lawyer who had taken
a seat near his nervous client. "May we proceed, sir?"Joe asked the lawyer.
He got a nod from
him. "Go ahead. For your records, my name's Trenton Cogley of the Los Angeles County Fire Department.
I'll be representing Mr. Gage through any formal proceedings until there's a resolution found in
this case."
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Click DeSoto treating this victim to go to Page Two
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