Three Blonde M.I.C.E.

“We could always call Charles.”  Hector mumbled into his empty Styrofoam coffee cup while miming another negligible sip. 

 “You trying to get us thrown off this case?  Next stop, overdue library books!” His partner glared at the cup, the hint anything but subtle.  It wasn’t the ritual that annoyed her, it was the lack of results.  It was Hector’s brand.

After the email she wasn’t supposed to see nearly two months ago, April decided right then and there that Hector’s pattern of ill prepared unmotivated underachievement would not become ballast on her trajectory.  Her devotion to this manhunt had approached something ferocious, and the blinding rays on the horizon weren’t going to slow down their morning drive to Philadelphia International Airport any more than Hector’s downward spiral would commandeer her resolve.

The outcome today was her achievement, crowning and inevitable.  Working off of tips that only she had procured, dismantling Hector’s silly theory that involved putting tails on seized assets, and culminating this morning in a past due victory lap after they collar their man, not to mention their third face card.

That left only one more.

Sometimes you’re dealt a joker when you don’t need one.  Or even worse, an ace with nowhere to put it.

Philadelphia Airport authorities had detained a man fitting the description they were provided while the flight had been somewhere over the Atlantic. 

USA Customs authorities had also detained two others from the same flight, both matching.  Right-handed, blonde hair, moustache, male under 6 foot, dual citizenship between USA & Israel.  Just as April and Hector had submitted to Charles.

The walk from the car to the airport detention facilities should’ve provided April more than enough time to reason her way through the embarrassment of riches yielding three suspects instead of one.  Yet begrudgingly, she only focused on the four separate opportunities, three storefronts and one self service station to be exact, for Hector to refill that coffee cup.  She counted eleven empty sips on their walk to the airport security command center, each noisy little slurp hollering out in equal parts impotent and infuriating.

The three camera feeds facing Hector and April were quite large for such a small room.  But even with low definition and poor lighting, there was no faulting airport security for their redundant policework.  Three short men, three blondes, three moustaches and three customs declarations forms filled out on the plane with their right hand.

“The one on the right has a Temple University shirt on.  Think that means something?”  Hector wasn’t afraid to think out loud.  He stood and stretched before placing his cup out of reach on the desk near the door to their quaint CCTV HQ, affording her a temporary recess from his nonsense once he sat down.  Fidgeting would be his methadone in the meantime.  Tragically, she preferred this alternative, his off-key whistling thankfully unaccounted for.

“Hector, let’s focus on what we do know that’ll allow us to eliminate at least one of these guys. Facts first, speculation second.” And now he found a pen to click mercilessly.  “Turn off monitors 2 & 3 and let’s drill down on 1.”

The first kid was just that.  A kid.  Probably late 20’s, early 30’s.  Much younger than the other two that had been pulled in.  April’s intel never gave an age, merely a timeline and the submitted description.  She waited for Hector to speak, to provide anything really.  Anything other than fidgeting and clicking.

“Where do you wanna start?” His eyes scanned the room as he spoke, landing on his grubby little Styrofoam pacifier near the door.  He sighed like a lazy dog, unwilling to move for a snack that outmaneuvered his grasp.  Sophie’s choice indeed.

“I’d like to start with a reason to either eliminate him or shackle him.  Let’s run through the treason motives.  What do you see, Hector?”

“Money’s always possible given who we’re hunting.  Too young for ideology, unless he’s a radical.  Coercion can’t be ruled out, but if I had to guess, I’d say ego.  Something about him.  Cocky.  Too nonplussed about being detained.  Kid’s probably watched Scarface too many times.” 

This coming from the guy who has a Tony Soprano playlist for whenever they drive through northern New Jersey.

“OK.  Can’t say your logic is necessarily scientific, but I don’t entirely disagree.  Yet.  Nothing that points to dismissal.  Click off 1, now bring up 2.”  The boy’s image vanished, and on the monitor next to him, another blonde man appeared.  “Run through your MICE motives again?”

Hector sat up, squinting at the middle-aged Israeli on monitor two.  “I’d rule out money on this guy.  Take away his soap and people on the subway would assume he’s homeless, so we know he ain’t spending any.  Ideology could play a role.  No tattoos but I can’t imagine that much hair made mommy or daddy proud in his youth.  Coercion can’t be tossed, but ego can.  This guy has been losing at life for way too long to have any ego left.”

“Feeling undervalued eventually morphs into egomaniacal if left unaddressed.  You sure?”

“Look at him, April!  Does he look anything like the other two Kings we’ve cuffed?  Not even your iffy little King of Spades you think you collared two weeks ago! He’s never held a gun, much less run ‘em.  Laundering?  Please.  This moron couldn’t calculate 20% tip without asking google twice.  Trafficking?  Yeah right.  The King of Hearts can hook you up with women.  This guy? STD’s maybe, but not women.”

“That leaves drugs then.” 

“Sure.  We’re looking at the Escobar of Vape pens.  The King of Clubs and boner pills.”

Hector was lazy and downright painful to spend more than eight minutes in a car with, but his instincts were consistently razor sharp.  April had acquired every piece of notarized paper that one could accrue in the pursuit of apex law enforcement, and every one of those pieces of pulp brandished the highest possible score right next to her name.  But as she quickly found out her rookie year, that kindling is useless unless you’re trying to burn down the Internal Affairs department for insurance money.  What Hector had couldn’t be taught.  However, April was more stubborn than a mule at the wrong pep rally, and she insisted on keeping him as a partner and involuntary mentor, no matter how many times he was written up for prioritizing gut feelings over governing protocols. 

“Fine.  Not looking good for 2.  Agreed.  For now.  Bring up 3.”  She grabbed the pen the moment he placed it on the desk to switch monitors. “And how about we go casefile deductions only here, press pause on the thug whispering.”

The third man looked nothing like the other two.  Much older, much darker skin.  But still short, still male, still moustache. 

April pulled one piece of paper out of the file sitting in front of them.  On it were mugshots of the two men they’d already arrested.  The first man had a large red heart drawn over his face.  “David we know has handled the trafficking, though we don’t know for how long.”  She motioned toward the second mugshot, this one with a black spade drawn over his face.  “Lavi here, I’m still going with him as our weapons king and not some sort of underboss, I don’t care what you think.  Or Charles.”

Hector glared at her the moment she mentioned Charles.  His gaze eventually drifted back to the paper in front of them.  He observed it, rapping each finger against his thigh in quick succession over and over.  Then another glare at his precious cup. 

“If he’s our king, then who’s counting the silver?”  He alternated between the screen and the paper now.  “What if you and Charles are both wrong?  Hell, what if our whole deck of cards theory is off?”

“Stop it Hector.  We’re not going down this road again.  You may have read David’s interrogation transcript, but I’m the one that ran it.  The four suits are their codes for their products. And David personally met two kings at handoffs, so that’s three of them.  This guy today makes four.  Basic deduction from there.  So it’s no longer a theory.”  She reached over him and clicked all three monitors back on.  “David is our King of Hearts.  Trafficking. Even Charles agrees with me on that.”

“Charles agrees with you on that. But I still don’t see where treason falls into this crime ring.”

“Trafficking over international borders doesn’t move the needle for you Hector?”  She could sense his passion for shortcuts creeping into their investigation.  He had quite the reputation for asking chapter one type questions when everyone else was wrapping up the story, and the only justice it ever accomplished was handcuffing policework. 

“Not when we’re hunting enemies of the country instead of enemies of the law.  Buying and selling women and children is about power and money, in that order.  Treason?”  He grabbed the pen out of her hand and clicked maniacally like he was making up for their time apart. “You might sell your allegiance for money, sure.  But patriotism? Especially the red, white and blue kind?  That’s only after you’ve made up your mind that your country is not only wrong, but beyond redemption.  America loves a comeback and hates a traitor.”

King David had been picked up less than a mile from the Port of Philadelphia in a car with a trunk full of money stuffed briefcases.  His burner phone, activated less than six hours prior, had one contact in it, a number that had texted moments before the arrest alerting him that the shipping container full of Belarusian teenagers was through customs.  April certainly wasn’t going to entertain Hector’s penchant for cold feet before a big collar, but he wasn’t wrong about the lack of treason.

Regardless of whether or not their task force had unearthed motive, Philadelphia still needed their King of Diamonds and King of Clubs, and that pursuit of laundering and weapons dealers consumed both her professional and personal life for the last fourteen months, leading her here.  The largest money launderer in the history of Pennsylvania not named Rockefeller was going to arrive at Philadelphia International Airport. 

This morning.

That criminal would be at this airport to arrange the laundering of US Dollars, mostly acquired through the activity of the other three kings, and would be done so through a contact in the Luxembourg banking industry.  The exodus of American paper by American passport wielding citizens into international lairs put all the pieces in place for treason, just like she needed.  All that was missing was motive.

For now.

“Hector.  Slide me those files.”  She clicked off monitors 1 and 2. “Which informant gave us the tip on the Port sting?  It was Hadi, wasn’t it? Didn’t Hadi tell us he also had a face-to-face with this guy at the place with the barber shop front?”

“So?”

“So, three is almost as bald as my ex-husband.”  She continued thumbing through their file.

Hector’s eyebrows arched while squinting at her, April certain he was trying to figure out what she was at without having to be told.  Like most career underachievers, his level of contempt correlated heavily with his partner’s success versus his own. 

“Maybe he sees the barber for his moustache?” 

He’d subpoena gravity if it dared figure out the truth first.

“Do men do that?”  she mused with a tone meant to be inquisitive.  Anything but.

“Maybe they run a special on moustache maintenance."

Is he freaking serious right now? “I know if you spend enough time in a barber shop, eventually you’re going to get your hair cut.” Every breakthrough must be on his terms. 

“That another of Grandma April’s life nuggets?”

“No, actually.  Hannah.”  She switched 3 off and brought back 2 to neutralize the Pavlovian silence sparked by the mention of her name. “This one has enough hair to make all the barbers in Norristown rich.  And ironically, he doesn’t pass your smell test because you think he stinks.”

“I’ll bet you lunch three has been to the barber more recently than this one, April.  If this king – allegedly – moves green around while looking like a lost mummer, I don’t think we’re going to come up with more than a couple socks full of quarters worth of evidence on this.”

Monitor 2 was dressed in a jumper, the green so faded that it was likely from an army surplus outlet of a previous decade.  His hair was as unkempt as it was blonde, the only way to describe it being two rival Gordian knot gangs defending each side of his head. 

Hector was right.

Money laundering, especially the international kind, contains an inherent sophistication to it that other disciplines of crime do not.  Traffickers embellish the purity of their women, warlords flamboyantly brandish their cacophony of dick shaped fire breathers, and drug dealers destigmatize their industry so casually you’d think you were swapping tupperware tips.  But if those crimes were rock n roll, then laundering was opera.  The other three were a predatory mix of opportunistic providers and impulsive consumers, while laundering was one tuxedoed criminal lifting his pinky toward another as the barbaric heathens remain blithely unaware.

No chance the man on monitor 2 was their King of Diamonds. 

April pressed the intercom button to the adjacent lounge.  “You guys can go ahead and release number two.  Thanks.”  April grabbed the chatty pen from Hector and began scribbling before he reached across her and hastily smashed the same button.

“Make sure the other two see you guys escorting him out.  And act a little chummy with him while you do it.”  He released the button and sat back in his chair like he’d just solved world hunger.

April smirked.  “As far as we know, these three have no idea who each other are.  That’s not gonna work, but I’ll admit I love your passion.”

“Rats are rats April.  Take cheese off the table and they’ll start biting each other’s tails even before they’re hungry.”  Hector clicked all three monitors on.  “What I want to know is how all this painstaking work you’ve been putting in has led us to three suspects who couldn’t be more different.”

Just like clockwork.  A round of criticism after his kindergarten cop act earlier, on the house.  All that’s missing is a little female misogyny and we’ll have the Hector trifecta.

“Well Hector, if they’re so different, then shouldn’t it be a cakewalk to eliminate the false positives?  I served up both arrests so far, including King David.  And I don’t plan on leaving this airport with empty handcuffs.”  She gestured at the screen, becoming incredulous at the sight of the one in the middle.  She mashed the intercom button.  “Excuse me, why is he still here? I told you to cut two loose!”

The speaker crackled, its volume so loud it shook the room. “We got the stand down ma’am.  Your supervisor Charles is with us, would you like to speak with him?”

April released the button, her hand ostensibly electrocuted judging by the way she yanked it away at the mention of that name.  Her and Hector glared at one another, first accusatory of having called in the cavalry without warning, their eyes then concocting the more prescient threat when they realized his presence was an indictment of both, not a symptom of one partner’s betrayal.

Charles was fair, but that only emboldened how strict he could be.  He was forgiving about mistakes, but ruthless when it came to errors.  Knowing the difference was knowing Charles.  Mistakes were no problem, so long as you could justify why you made them.  Errors were byproducts of a lapse in judgment, and nobody that worked for him was allowed more than one.

Except Hector.

Of course, that kind of treatment could be expected when you’re dating the Captain’s younger sister.  And one would expect that particular treatment from a Captain whose sister Hannah vaporized from a car bomb that detonated in her brother’s driveway.  Neither the brother nor the boyfriend ever arrested the culprit.  Only clue they had to go on was clocking a red Corvette fleeing the scene on neighborhood Ring cam footage about an hour before the explosion.  Call it survivor’s guilt, call it playing favorites, or call their badges albatrosses, but not one detective had the courage to point it out, at least not while Charles or Hector was within earshot.

April knew she wouldn’t have long before Charles came barging in.  She turned all three monitors off.

“Look, we both know it ain’t two.  You seem to like three a little more than you should, but convince me it’s not one.” She brought up 1.  “He’s wearing more gold chains than a kid his age should be able to afford.  Like most spoiled little brats, his shoes cost more than my entire outfit.  And yet I don’t care how much he wreaks of money, there’s no way he’s paid his dues long enough to make it to the top of the deck.”

“Could be a prodigal son type thing.  Got enough room in your precious theory to fit a Knave of Diamonds?” Hector snorted to himself and took his phone out to send a text. “We got enough to run his passport, see if any family with a record comes up.  Can’t hurt to see if there’s any hits or flagged assets.”

“Our intel has this the biggest smuggle in months, maybe years.  And you think the King of Diamonds would hand the football off to his son instead of scoring in the Super Bowl?”

Before Hector could answer, the door behind them flung open.  At the precinct, all of the doors were hydraulic and remained quiet no matter how hard you swung them.  Not the case at the Philadelphia International Airport, and the yelping hinges were silenced by the thunderous crash of the door handle dishonoring the wall it typically leaned upon. 

Charles was unofficially the tallest policeman in the history of Pennsylvania.  Six foot ten, and no record of anyone larger according to Harrisburg, though there were rumors of a half Seneca giant that regulated Kane and the surrounding Allegheny Forest with a scuffed badge and a sawed off shotgun back in the 1920’s.  And even though Charles hadn’t come within a whiff of a crime in progress for at least a decade, he could always be counted on to sport a utility belt that would make Batman jealous. Gun, taser, nightstick, mace, handcuffs, and the precinct’s favorite running joke – two cell phones.

“Flimsy policework, flimsy process, and lo and behold, flimsy evidence.”  Since he was being negative, he of course glared at April while he spoke.  “What do you want to do next?  Round up all the Italians in Center City because the local pizza shop messed up your order?”

“It was an incoming flight from Tel Aviv.  There were plenty of Jews on that plane that we didn’t detain.  And I just tried jettisoning number two!” 

April secretly despised how whiny her voice got when her and Charles butted heads.  It always morphed into a disappointed father and spoiled daughter dynamic that neither seemed to be able to avoid.  It had gotten much worse since his sister had been killed.

“If we didn’t have the King of Hearts in our dungeon right now, you and I would be having a very different conversation.  This case has gone on for months longer than we promised the Commissioner.”  He swiveled his head to peer at Hector, and of course his volume lowers and drops an octave.  “We’re a menace to criminals, not citizens.  Enough is enough, results or resignations are the only acceptable outcomes. Reign her in and clean this up in here while I clean up your mess out there.  In minutes, not hours or days.” 

Charles stole a quick glance at the hole he’d created in the wall upon entering and was a bit more delicate while opening the door this time.  He was gone as quickly as he arrived.

Both detectives began shuffling papers and rearranging the few loose objects within reach, their scattered thoughts included.  Hector stood and stretched while April felt for nothing in particular in each of her pockets.

“I’m going for coffee.  You want one?  It’s free and I’m buying.” Hector snatched his grubby little cup before lightly caressing the freshly smashed drywall on his way out the door.

“Hurry up, the longer we hold them, the more likely lawyers start gumming things up.”  That damn cup would somehow be empty by the time he returned and then it’d be back to his starter pistol sips.

The superior poker players aren’t the ones that get dealt the best cards.  It’s the players that can influence the behavior of the other players.  You may not be able to control what cards are dealt or how big the pot gets, so control the opportunities your opponents will face.  Dictate the playing field and control the table. 

And on the table in front of her, Hector’s phone sung like a lithium fueled canary.  She normally would’ve waited for his return, but one word in the preview text might as well have had flashing lights and an Aircraft Marshall waving one of those orange paddles at her. 

The outcome today was her achievement, crowning and inevitable. 

As soon as she read and deleted the text, she heard his slurping right before the whiny door handle twisted and shouted.

“You know, I was thinking, and you’re right.  Send three packing.  No hair, no barber.  Two is already gone, that leaves one.”  Hector spilled coffee on his collar, probably from lack of practice with live rounds.  But that meant there was actually brew in that cup! 

“That’s not enough to get Charles to sign off and you know it.  There’s a fine line between being guilty and being the least innocent, and that line is called—”

“—Evidence.  Got it.  I’ve known him a hell of a lot longer than you, don’t act like I never heard that one.”  Hector sneered at her, his bruised ego obvious.

“Come on Hector. If we screw this up, not only will we get sent to Junior Varsity with the other broken toys, but these last couple of Kings will go underground and we’ll never get another shot.  Not us, not anyone.”

“If we screw this up?  You mean if you screw this up.”  Hector put his coffee down and then quickly pressed the intercom button.  “Charles, we’re ready for you.”

He looked at her this time like he just split the atom. 

Charles entered, albeit with a more gingerly door handling.  He stole a quick glance at each partner before fixating on the three monitors.  April turned 2 & 3 back on, then quickly turned monitor 2’s empty feed back off.  Charles glared at her in response, urging her to begin.  But she refused, her expression deferring to the man that summoned him.   

Charles looked from the standing April down to the sitting Hector.  “Well, somebody better say something!”

April crossed her arms.

After a slew of agonizing seconds, Hector finally broke.  “Boss, we got any judges that’ll accept women’s intuition in lieu of due process?”

Charles sighed, his long arms reaching between them for the file and opening it.  “I swear, if you two make me look like a grieving ass here, neither one of you will see another daylight shift as long as I’m wearing this badge.”  His eyes lingered on the spade drawn in over the second mugshot before a flippant fling, shutting the folder.  “You really think I enjoy this daycare routine?  This should’ve been handled months ago, and we’re not even halfway.  Messy work, lazy documentation, and now what?  Should we subpoena Family Feud, we can ask 100 Law & Order fans who they think is guilty?”

Brains and bravery.

Compliment either one and men will never forget, like a hungry puppy. 

“You’re right, coach.”  Her tone was somber, her eyes downtrodden.  “This has gone on too long.  Like you always say, do not mistake activity for achievement.  But I want to be clear about one thing.”

April took a seat and clutched the case file like it was the last Bible in existence.  She took a deep breath.  She nodded toward Hector before a long and trembling exhale.

“We’d probably have all four of them in orange jumpers already, thanks to him.”  She finally looked up from the floor, directly into Charles’ soul.  “The only reason we don’t is because of me.”

Charles was wholly unimpressed with the melodramatic delivery.  “Explain yourself Detective.”

“A few months ago I received an after hours call on the tip line.  One of our informants had a line on someone washing money.  Wanted to give me a couple account numbers, but only if it was in person.  So I met her, it was late at night and she suggested a diner near my apartment in Conshohocken, so I figured why bother Hector?  Well, I got the account numbers.  They’re logged, they’re in this file.  But she mentioned something else at the time.  I didn’t think anything of it then.  That is, until Hector took the lead on the laundering while I chased down her tip on a weapons deal.  Mine went nowhere.  But Hector?  He broke it open.”

Hector shifted in his seat.  She could see the confusion on his face disguised as an objective listener. 

“He ran down the laundering rabbit hole that led us here.  That ultimately gave us this guy.”  April pointed at 1.  “Hector found the King of Diamonds with nothing other than solid policework.  And he’d already be doing time if I hadn’t held back a key piece of evidence.”

Now both men glared at her, incredulous.

“We got a hit on the kid on monitor 1 long before today.” April clicked off 3.  “Well, not on him exactly.  On one of his assets. My informant had detailed and painted it.”

Hector bristled, his eyes immediately locking on to his phone, still on the desk where she’d left it. 

“How long before today?”  Whether it was the tone or the fact that it came from so high up on account of his height, Charles’ voice rumbled with the venomous wrath of a betrayed god.

“Look, Charles, you have to understand,”

“HOW LONG?”

“A little over ten weeks.”  She waited for the eruption of Mount Charles but in that moment all she could notice was the combination of befuddlement and betrayal on Hector’s face.  She knew it was coming, but that didn’t dull the pain. 

“April, do you have any idea what you’ve done?  How could you disrespect your badge like that?  How could you disrespect me like that?  We’re not talking coaching & counseling, or even suspension.  This is straight up termination worthy.  Bye bye pension.  This—"

“I had to be sure Charles.”  She practically screamed it.  “I had to be sure.  For her.”  She fought off tears, but not before letting one sob escape.

The best bluffs require the player to convince themselves before convincing their opponents.  Nothing better to sell a bluff.  Or in this case, motive.  Only it would be motive for the cop and not the criminal.  Dictate the playing field and control the table.

She knew.  Just wait.  To know the difference between a mistake and an error is to know Charles. 

There was only one thing all three of them shared between them besides the job. 

The Four Kings case had been opened less than four months prior to Hannah’s car bomb rattling an entire Warminster subcommunity.  Charles had been weeding in the backyard, the blast nearly tumbling him off his feet.  There had recently been a home in nearby Bucks County that exploded on account of an untreated gas leak.  His first thought had been something along those lines, but when Charles reached the metal inferno in his driveway, the crackling smoke hemorrhaging through the sunroof toward the sky affirmed the nightmare was knocking on his front door. 

He may not have included it in his statement that day or to the insurance adjusters thereafter, but Charles later revealed to April that for weeks after the incident, he swore he’d catch wisps of his sister’s perfume while getting the mail.  He was convinced it was her.  Communicating from beyond.  Her way of urging him to find those responsible.  Her way of helping him grieve.  Just being a good sister. 

Hector said he stopped drinking after she died, because if he had even one drink he’d be plagued by nightmares until morning.  She’d always nudged him to drink less, and now he’d quit entirely.  Her way of helping him grow.  Just being a good girlfriend.

April used Hannah’s death.  She buried herself in the case as a substitute for grief.  But also as cover.  Her way of helping April succeed.  Just being a good Queen. 

The first major breakthrough on the Four Kings case arrived shortly after all that crackling smoke had cleared.

Most players think the best time to push all your chips into the middle of the table is when you know you have the winning hand.  That leads to mostly waiting and never winning.  According to the odds, you’re more likely to win when your opponent has a poor hand, not when you have a rich one.

April saw the epiphany dawn on Charles’ face.  At first, his expression went flush with anger.  That was just his mind flinching.  What came next, that expression came from his heart.  Just unaltered pain.  She watched his eyes go distant, desperate to disassociate.  He swung his head and gawked at the kid on monitor 1. 

Time to sell her ace and bet the house.

“The moment I saw the VIN number on his list of seized assets, my stomach dropped.  Like only a cop’s can, right?”  She looked at Hector to see where his head was at, but he was still trying to catch up.  “I didn’t log it because I was desperate to find a reason to dismiss it entirely, you know?”

“Stop beating around the bush April.”  Charles’ eyes were shrink-wrapped in glass. 

“Corvette.  Same year.  Same model.”  As soon as she said it, Hector reached for his phone.  “Different color, OK?  It wasn’t red, and my informant couldn’t remember what color it was when it hit her chop shop in Camden.  Couldn’t remember the owner either.  Just a snap of the VIN and a few others she gave up with the weapons tip.”

Hector fiddled with his phone while absently reaching for his coffee.  April grabbed it before he knocked it over.  The one time he actually had something in it and she has to childproof the place.  He could screw up a one car parade.  Something then dawned on him too.  He put his phone in his pocket and glared at her the same way he did whenever she asked to drive.

“I’ll take it from here.”  Charles quick drawed his handcuffs from his utility belt and was out the door as quickly as he had arrived.  April clicked on all three monitors just in time to witness three getting shown the door and one getting shown the scales of justice.  That took less convincing than she anticipated.

Hector, torn between anger over his partner lying to him and relief from her crediting him for the arrest, checked his phone one last time for a text that was no longer there and then grabbed his little security blanket of a coffee cup and left the room without so much as a word.  Not really sure where he was going, as she had the car keys in her pocket.  Not really sure what he was so upset about either.  He’d have been cut loose months ago if it wasn’t for the life preserver she tossed by insisting on him remaining her partner.  And he’s just going to get furloughed in the months ahead anyway once Philadelphia’s finest figure out what was happening right under his nose.

The outcome today was her achievement, crowning and inevitable. 

April wasn’t creating a safer Philadelphia, nor was she aiming to protect and serve.  She was creating three job openings, and starting today, all three were reporting to her.  And with metro Philadelphia now convinced they had three Kings in custody, that meant there would be an all-out manhunt for the final King of Clubs, leaving this Queen free to continue operating under the radar, and higher than any King in the deck.  At least until her cover is blown, along with the badge, neither of which mattered because by that time the money would be clean and over an ocean away.  The old Queen of Diamonds, never once under suspicion thanks to her ineligibility for Kingship, had maneuvered with the perfect immunity: her brother spearheading the Four Kings case.  But then a funny thing happened.  That old Queen agreed to a girls’ lunch with one of her brother’s subordinates, and then she got dealt a bad hand.  A shame really.  Not only did her car explode when she turned it on after sleeping off the mimosas at her brother’s place, but then that same brother became blind with malleable rage hunting the four kings that were surely responsible, leaving the new Queen no more suspicious than the old Queen.  

Hector sure was right about one thing. 

Can’t trust women.