Free Blue Rubicon by Harrison Drake

property clerks,
was a civilian employee. I always found it interesting that cops used last
names for almost everyone, but the civilians used first names. Yet another
aspect of the pervasive police culture.
    “Not bad. Being a stay-at-home dad for a
few months had its bonuses.”
    “I don’t doubt it. Now these young guys are
taking parental leave. I wish they’d allowed that when I had kids.”
    David had to be pushing sixty. Two kids, a
boy and a girl like me, but his had moved out long ago.
    “Maybe they’ll let me take grandparental
leave,” he said, turning the computer screen to face me. He had commandeered
the desktop, changing the wallpaper to a photo of his new grandson.
    “How many are you up to now? Six?”
    “Five. Number six won’t be far behind the
way my kids are going.”
    “The more the merrier, right?”
    “Of course. Now what can I do for you?”
    “Need to take some property out, from a
1999 occurrence.” I gave David the occurrence number and waited as he pulled up
the information on his computer.
    “An envelope,” he said. “Looks like it was
just put into property a few days ago. Christ, by Jakob. Can’t believe he’s
gone.”
    I nodded. “It’s sad, he had a baby son at
home.”
    “I know, he was showing me pictures just
last week.” He looked away. Nobody was able to make eye contact any more, it
was too painful. “I’ll grab the property.”
    “Thanks,” I said, but he was already gone.
    I stood there for a moment, tapping my
fingers on the counter to some beat that was stuck in my head.
    “Munroe,” came a voice from behind the
counter. “I thought I heard you.”
    Sergeant William Moore, the police overseer
of the property unit.
    “Been a while, how are you?”
    “Good, good. How was your summer off?”
    “Not bad.” It was a question I was tired of
answering.
    “Did I hear David right? Here for something
of Carter’s?”
    “Yeah,” I said, maintaining eye contact.
“Just something from one of his charges. His unit is on night shift, trying to
clean up one of his cases for the Crown.”
    Moore nodded.
    “Unbelievable, eh?”
    “Yeah.”
    David was back, bringing the property with
him and bringing an end to an awkward conversation.
    “Here you go, Lincoln. Just sign here.”
    An electronic signature pad. I hated the
things, my signature never came out right.
    “Kind of weird,” David said. “Sealed
envelope with ‘Important: Read before throwing out’ on it.”
    He held up the clear evidence bag for me to
see.
    “Why would he put that on something for a
charge? It wouldn’t be tossed without his authorization.”
    Moore looked confused.
    “Thanks, David,” I said, then reached for
the bag. He handed it over and I turned to walk away.
    “Was Jakob even here in ninety-nine?” Shit,
David. Shut up.
    “Ninety-nine, eh? Charges are still
pending?”
    I turned around and saw Moore looking
straight at the bag. “Yeah, stay of proceedings a while ago. Jakob had to do a
follow-up on it, the investigator retired a couple years back. Crown just wants
to clear some things up.”
    “Right,” Moore said. “Bring it back when
you’re done with it, we can destroy it properly. Protocol and all.” He brought
his eyes up to meet mine and I could tell he knew I was lying.
     
    * * *
     
    Three hours later I was on my way home, the
evidence hidden inside my lunch bag. There was no way I was going to risk
opening it at the station, not after being caught in Carter’s locker by Red. My
eyes were glued to my rear view mirror, looking back more than looking forward.
Once I was certain I wasn’t being followed, I pulled in behind a plaza in the
south end of London.
    The evidence bags were tamper-resistant.
The seal would show “VOID” if someone peeled it apart and the plastic itself
wasn’t easy to get through. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my small
pocket knife. I unfolded the blade and dug into the bag, cutting a hole large
enough for my hand.
    I