AfterNet 01 - Good Cop Dead Cop

her partner … I’m sure you’ve all read about the exploits of Officer Munroe in the newspaper and from watching TV … will be joining us tonight. Good job getting Timmy out of the well, you two.”
    All the cops in the room swiveled in their seats and looked at Yamaguchi, who slowly got up. She stood as tall as she could and hooked her thumbs in her new gun belt.
    “The only thing I’ve got to say to you morons is …”
    Munroe was a little worried. He had seen her temper in the training class yesterday. Then she brought the back of her hand to her nose and elaborately wiped it across her face and tried to make the biggest snuffling sound she could.
    “… much appreciated.”
    “OK, that’s it. Have a good night out there,” Tompkins said, once the laughing subsided.
    Yamaguchi and Munroe drove around the apartment complex for the second time that night.
    “What make and model did they say was popular?” she asked.
    “Didn’t you pay any attention?”
    “It means so little to me.”
    “You mean make and model? You’re a cop for god’s sake. You’re supposed to know this stuff,” Munroe said, wondering how she’d ever been a patrol cop for three years without knowing car models.
    “They all look the same to me. Was it a Japanese car?”
    “Yes, they’re targeting Acura Integras. That’s a hatchback. You know what a hatchback is, right.”
    “Well, of course,” she said, although Munroe doubted her.
    “It’s the one with the little round headlights. You actually pointed one out to me last month and said it looked sporty.”
    “Oh, yeah,” she lied.
    “Why are you asking, anyway?”
    “Because I think I saw one a block back. It might have been abandoned.”
    She turned right at the corner and backtracked their car to the vehicle in question. It was a red car and was missing its back two wheels.
    “That’s a Celica. It looks nothing like an Integra.”
    “Whatever, run the plate.”
    Munroe entered the plate into the computer. Luckily they were in an unusually fast hotspot and the information came back quickly.
    “Not reported stolen,” he said. “And it’s registered to a guy who lives in this block.”
    She started driving again. “It was worth a look.”
    Driving east on Speer Boulevard over Interstate 25, Yamaguchi saw a car ahead driving the speed limit, which on Speer made it stand out. The car was a 1990 Chrysler LeBaron, which she didn’t recognize as such, but she knew it was an ugly American car. She couldn’t quite make out the expiration tags and it held four people, all young men from what she could tell through the tinted windows. She was now tailgating the car and she saw that the plates had expired.
    She called dispatch and told them she was going to do a traffic stop and the approximate location, then she flashed the cruiser’s emergency lights, but the car continued. She turned on the siren momentarily and the car pulled over to the right.
    “It’s registered to a Hector Garcia, 21 years old, 5 foot 7, 155 pounds,” Munroe said. He’d already run the plates. “No wants or warrants.”
    The car finally pulled off at the entrance to the Elitch Gardens amusement park. Yamaguchi called dispatch and updated them on their location.
    “Want to do the honors?” she asked Munroe.
    “I’ll tell you if it’s safe,” he said.
    She opened the car door and sat back as far as she could in her seat. Munroe squeezed his way past her and out the car. He approached the driver side window and looked inside. He could tell the car held four young Hispanic men, three of whom were staring straight ahead. One in the back seat seemed to be sleeping. The three looked nervous but many people do when a cop stops them.
    The young men were dressed nicely. Munroe was looking more closely at the two in the back seat when he noticed that something was on the lap of the man on the passenger side. All he could tell was that it was long and black. He shifted to infrared and the heat of the man’s body made the outline more distinct. It was a baseball bat. He went to the other side of the car and looked again but saw nothing else suspicious. He went back to Yamaguchi.
    She had already transferred her portable terminal to her left hand so he didn’t need to reenter the car to speak to her.
    “Four young Hispanic males. Rear seat, passenger side, has a baseball bat in his lap.”
    “A baseball bat?” she asked.
    “Yes, but I think it’s wrapped … like a Christmas present.