The Wrong Side of Right

The sun also shines on the wicked,

Seneca

Chapter Two: Baggies, Benjamin’s and Blackmail

Harry walked into the crime lab, head held high, disguising the fact she was incredibly pissed with having a partner. A human one, at any rate. The current human one was in the morgue with the cute CSI trying to get an ID, and she had been sent to see if anything had been found on the drugs.

“Excuse me?”

Harry turned at the sound of a non-native New Yorker call her name, and looked down at the sandy haired woman in front of her. “Yes?”

The woman looked a little startled at the icy tone of Harry and narrowed her eyes. “Dogs aren’t allowed in the lab,” she snapped.

Harry rolled her eyes. “Kipper, door.” The Alsatian looked up at her before padding softly to the reception area and sitting down by one of the large pot plants. “Better?” she asked the woman in the same icy tone.

“Who are you?” the woman asked.

Harry looked her up and down, spotting the name ‘Monroe’ embroidered onto her lab coat. “Where is the trace lab?” she asked, instead.

“You need a pass to be here,” Monroe sniped.

Harry rolled her eyes. “This good enough?” she asked, producing her recently acquired New York badge.

Monroe glared at her and pointed down the corridor at a large, glass walled room. Another lab tech inside.

Without thanking her, Harry turned on her heel, her long hair only just missing the tech’s face as it whipped out behind her. She strode into the lab. “Do we have anything on the drugs?”

The lab tech blinked at her.

Harriet sighed. “The drugs found at the crime scene,” she said, talking really slow as if he was stupid. “Have you run an an-al-y-sis on it yet?”

“Yes,” the tech stammered nervously, sending furtive glances as her as he scurried nervously around the lab in an attempt to find the print out of results.

Harriet exhaled deeply though her nose, highlighting her impatience at the tech. “Today would be a really nice day to find a bad guy and arrest him,” she muttered loud enough for him to hear.

“Here,” he said, handing over a folder.

Harriet snatched it out of his hands and marched out of the lab, to the desk opposite Flack that she had been assigned. And dug her nose in.

“So you’re the newbie?”

Harry looked up over the top of the folder and scowled darkly at the detective staring down at her.

“You’re Flack’s new partner?”

“No, Kipper is the partner. Flack is tagging along,” she stated, returning her attention to the folder.

The detective laughed. “Curtis.”

Harriet looked over the top of her folder again. “Nash.”

“Well, Nash, would you and Kipper like to join us for drinks, being as our shift is over?”

Harry smiled. “I’m sorry, but I really need to get home and unpack.”

--

Of course, that was a lie. According to the report the lab tech had put together, the cocaine had the same chemical breakdown as a couple of baggies caught on one Darryl James. James, was now out on bail for intent to supply and according to his file, was likely to be found in the Bronx.

After questioning a junkie, who she had allowed to go without arresting him on the condition she give up James’ location, she found herself inside a derelict apartment complex.

“You ready?” she asked Kipper. She drew her gun and burst through the doors of the abandoned apartment. It was dark, dingy, and smelt of body odor, general mustiness, and a lingering smell of chemicals. “NYPD!” she bellowed.

At the far end of the room, two men started to scramble to their feet. They were soon stopped at the sight of Kipper leaping towards them, followed closely by Harry, gun out in front of her.

“On your knees!” she barked. “Come on! Put your hands behind your head!” she ordered, shining her torch in their faces. The men settled to their knees, hands behind their heads as she ordered.

As Kipper growled menacingly at them, and with her gun remaining firmly aimed at the larger of the two’s head, Harry glanced down at the brick of cocaine which was slowly being weighed out into smaller baggies. There was a couple of hundred thousand dollars of the white powder in the room. “Well, Christmas has come early. It’s snowing already,” she exclaimed, licking her finger, dipping it in the powder and trying it. “This is good stuff,” she grinned.

“Pig whore!” The larger of the two muttered – James. She recognized him from the mug shot on file.

Harry was digging her gun in the side of his head in an instant. “What did you just call me?” she demanded.

“Nothing,” he stammered out at her.

“And you can shut the fuck up too,” she cried at the other man who was whimpering beside his friend. “You two squatting?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” the bigger demanded.

Harry let out an exasperated sigh. “Why are criminals so damn stupid?” she exclaimed. ‘You own this flat?”

“No.”

“No, what?” she asked, poking the gun back in his temple.

“No, ma’am.”

“What about you?” she asked the other one, pointing the gun at him. “You letting, or subletting?”

“No. No, ma’am,” he added quickly.

“What? No mortgage?”

“No, ma’am,” he repeated.

Harry laughed. “Man, you guys got fucked up tonight. I’d hate to be you in the morning. Don’t look at me!” she snapped as she began filling a hold all with the bags of cocaine, her gun still trained calmly on the larger of the two men. “Okay, this is how it works. You never saw me, and I never saw you. And hey, the world will just keep on turning.”

The two men actually looked horrified. “You ain’t taking us in?” the larger demanded.

Harriet laughed. “No.”

“You’ve got to,’ the smaller all but pleaded, looking truly scared.

Harriet shrugged, hoisting the bag over her shoulder. “Does this face look the slightest bit concerned? There’ll be two less scumbags on the streets. It’s win-win in my books.”

“If you don’t, we’ll get shot for losing that shit.”

Harriet rolled her eyes. “You that worried? Leave town,” she suggested. “Kipper.”

Kipper let out one last warning bark as he followed Harriet out of the room.

“I am going to find that bitch and rat her out to the feds, and to Lil D. Whore will be sorry she ever crossed us.”

Harriet stopped and turned on her heel walking straight back in. “Let’s get one thing straight,” she told the James, who had made the comment, as she dumped the bag on the floor. “I’m in charge here.” And without hesitating, she pulled the trigger without even blinking.

“Oh Jesus!” the other man began sobbing. “Oh Jesus.”

Harriet roller her eyes. “Oh, stop crying,” she told him, disgusted at his tears. “He your brother?”

The man shook his head. “I just met him, he gave me a job.”

“I hope you never signed a contract,” she told him. She took a breath, cocking her head. “You ever done time?”

“No.”

Harriet eyed him.

“No, ma’am. I’ve never done time.”

Harriet sat down at the table and pulled a baggie over that she had missed, emptying it out on the table and lining it up. “You got a bill?”

The man pointed to the couch behind her. “Behind that.”

Harriet rose to her feet and walked to the couch, peering behind it. “Well take a look at all the Benjamin’s!” she exclaimed seeing another hold-all full of hundred dollar bills. “They really are trusting with you low level crooks these days, aren’t they?” She hauled the bag out and dumped it next to the bag with the drugs, and pulled out one of the hundred dollar bills. She was rolling it up as she sank bag into the chair, and then sampled the cocaine. “Shit, this really is good stuff!” she exclaimed, settling back and enjoying the buzz she was experiencing. “You want some?” she asked the other man.

“No, ma’am.”

Harriet gently wiped her nose. “Okay, this is how it’s going to work. Your buddy here was sampling the goods. He got fucking crazy, and he came at you with a knife.” Harry got to her feet and walked over to the male, crouching down in front of him, careful not to step in the blood. “Now tell me what happened?” she asked him, fluttering her eyelashes, as she ran a gloved finger provocatively down his face.

“My buddy, he got fucking crazy,” the man repeated, sobbing. “Oh, God.! And he came after me with a knife.”

Harry’s fingers traced his lips briefly as she got to her feet. “And just to make one thing clear. I will hunt your family down and I will gut your mother if you ever utter a word of this to anyone. You understand me?”

The man nodded. “Yes. Ma’am.”

“Good,” Harriet smiled as she handed the gun over to him. The gun was untraceable. She’d made sure of that before she’d entered the building. She wasn’t stupid enough to use her own gun. And she’d ‘acquired’ a few of them in Madison. “Now, I’m leaving, with the drugs and the money. I want you to wait twenty minutes, and then you call it in.”

--

Harriet stepped out of the shower and picked up the phone that was blaring at her on the side. She hung up and dumped it back on the side. It was a call out to a 419 in the Bronx. Quickly, she got dressed, kicking the two bags under the bed.

A short while later, she was pretending to listen to the ‘first responders’, as the uniform filled her in on what happened. Flack and Danny were already there, as well as the lab tech called Monroe.

“You took your time,” Flack muttered as she walked over.

Harry shrugged. “I got lost.”

“They’re really throwing you in the deep end, aren’t they?” said Danny as he looked up from the table he was processing.

Harriet watched him, unworried. She’d made sure there was no evidence of herself before she left. “Fine with me. Where’s the suspect?”

Flack nodded over to the corner where Monroe was processing him for gunshot residue. He was muttering something, but clamped his mouth firmly closed as soon as he laid eyes on Harry.

Monroe looked over, eyeing her suspiciously, but looked away when she caught Harry glaring at her.

“I’m going to canvass the area for witnesses,” Harriet announced. Just to make sure.

“Hey, Harry,” Danny called, moving over to her. “You wanna get some drinks when we’re done here?”

Harry glanced over his shoulder at the glare Flack was sending them. “Sure,” she grinned.