This is the retired badge used in the TV show Dragnet. Jack Webb was given police honors at his death. The black stripe signifies the mourning for the death of a Police officer. The background is the city of Albuquerque, New Mexico with the Sandia Mountains in the east.
Title: Dragnet New Mexico
Author: Ken_r AKA Ken242 AKA Kenneth Renouard
Rating: Teen
Genera: AU without aliens; people are strange enough from our own planet.
Couples: conventional couples
Disclaimer: The characters are from the TV show Roswell. I have tried to use them in manners that fit the original characters. The sergeant is roughly patterned after Joe Friday played by Jack Webb so long ago, but he is still the Max we know. Liz is the intelligent and resourceful woman we always saw in the Roswell episodes. When reading Maria and Tess, think of Majandra and Emilie in the episode “The Summer of ’47.” My vision of Kyle is given by Bruce Weitz as he portrays Mick Belker on “Hill Street Blues.” I still try to let Kyle’s humor come through.
Summary: I am trying to write a police story with the dry humor and informative sidebars of the Dragnet show. Dragnet was a 30 minute show. The characters were never well developed. I hope you can see growth in them as we follow the escalating investigation that starts at the death of a street officer and, finally, ends up far differently.
Dragnet New Mexico
This is the city, Albuquerque, New Mexico. This is the home of almost a million people. High mountains on the east, Volcano cones on the west (we don’t know if they are alive or dead), the greater Rio Grande valley brings the count to well over a million. We have Anglos, Hispanics, African Americans and Native Americans, plus a few thousand members of various other ethnic groups. For the most part, they are all hard working people, taking care of their families and doing their jobs. Sometimes they are threatened; threatened by those who want to get ahead without working or those who want to take the security of our valley and use it to gain international power. When you get this many people thrown together, you are bound to have trouble. When this trouble comes, it becomes my business. I wear a badge, the name is Evans, Sergeant Max Evans, my partner is Detective Parker, the boss is Captain Guerin. He runs a tight ship, no room for mistakes. We work homicide.
The story I am about to tell you is strictly a dramatization. It logically fits together very well. There may be a moral somewhere. I do not know.
It is Friday, February 15th, 7:28 AM, 2008. The sky is clear, the air is cool and we are on days. Approximately 4:15 this morning, the report was that an officer was down. The preliminary report had been completed and the captain called us in.
“Evans, Parker, Patrolman Bob Clancy was shot at approximately 4:23 this morning. It was a routine stop. See Ms. DeLuca. She was on radio at the time. She prepared a transcript for you.
The captain looked down at his desk. He had told us all he knew and he hoped we could run with it.
“Captain, that just goes to show you there aren’t any,” I said.
“Aren’t any what, Max?” the captain asked.
“There aren’t any routine stops,” I replied.
Bob Clancy, married, two kids, one six, another ten. Did everything by the book! Always documented every thing he did. Wore his vest religiously, carried a Glock 40 caliber, had been on the force for almost ten years. Didn’t make many mistakes. Well, it only took one, mistake that is.
Officer, now Detective, Elizabeth Parker, five years on patrol, good arrest record, two years at Northwestern, majoring in Police Science, two years detective division. For those two years, she has been my partner. The official stand for partners of the opposite sex is very straightforward. No fraternization off duty. We keep our visible life right within the rules. That is why we are so good together. The Captain said so, just recently when he gave us our yearly evaluation.
We proceeded to the police lounge. A tired, but perky blonde was waiting for us. She knew who we were. She had been working for the captain in the radio room for some time. She and Detective Parker embraced. They had been friends since high school. This display of female bonding over, we got down to business.
“DeLuca, can you tell us anything that is not in these transcripts?” I asked.
The blonde was chewing her gum, smacking it from time to time. “Anything that happened over the radio is right there in the log,” she said.
“What about feelings? You have been on radio for several years. Did you pick up anything from the officer that is not strictly on the log?” I asked.
“Yeah, he said they looked a bit strange. I didn’t put that down because it was just a statement made as he got out of the car,” she stated.
“Well, you just told us something we didn’t know before,” I stated.
She looked up at me, “What do you mean?”
“Well, now we know there was more than one person in the car and we know that to an experienced officer, they appeared questionable,” I replied.
Then, I turned, “Never doubt DeLuca.”
“Never doubt what, Max?” she asked.
Never doubt feelings and intuition,” I stated.
We were in our car. I was driving. Parker was reading the transcripts from the radio log. She had made notations about the license number and description of the car. “Max, there should be some more information. I know that Maria would have run all this information through motor vehicle and, also, given it to the other patrols.”
I took the radio, “Evans to ABQ, check the teletype log for any reference to this morning’s homicide. We need the 10-28, owner and description of the car Clancy stopped this morning.”
It took a few minutes, but the radio crackled. “ABQ to Evans, Green, Chevrolet, Tahoe, SUV is the description of the car stopped. Registered owner is James Alrich. Stolen car report placed two days ago. Stand by, we will see if there are any statements from Clancy’s daily that might help. The complete transcript of his daily will be in your box when you get in,” The radio people informed us of the latest information.
“Good call, Parker. DeLuca is efficient,” I stated.
Parker was making notes on her clipboard. She took the radio, “Parker to ABQ, give me the address of that 10-28. We need to interview him personally.”
It was just a minute before the radio read off the address. It was in what is called the Four Hills district. Four Hills, a place where if you had to ask the price, you knew that you couldn’t afford to live there. This place was so swank that their garbage had resale value.
Trouble was, that this area was very close to the 10-20, location, where Clancy bought it. If the 10-29, stolen car report hadn’t been dated two days before, you might think that the SUV had just been stolen and they were on the run when Clancy stopped them. As it was, they didn’t seem to want to get too far away from the scene of the crime.
Parker would do the interview. I wasn’t too swift with people whose shit didn’t stink. I would be there, but her sweet voice would handle the interview. We walked up the curved walkway built right beside the immense concrete driveway. The drive way was lined with juniper bushes, which triggered my asthma.
Parker touched the musical doorbell button and it was just a few seconds before the door was opened by a mousey blond. “Yes, I am Mrs. Alrich. Can I help you?” she asked.
We were led down a hall to a richly appointed room. There was a large man sitting in a chair, a cigar in one hand and a news paper in the other. The beauty of the room was spoiled by the rancid smoke of the cigar.
“James, these police persons,” she said with inference to Parker, “want to talk to you about your SUV.” Mrs. Alrich’s soft voice was almost trembling.
“Mr. Alrich’s voice, in contrast, was booming. “It is about time they get off their dead asses and find that car. Where is it?”
I could feel my temper rising. Parker put her hand on my arm, reminding me that this was her part of the partnership. Parker, with the command voice that made up for her diminutive size, “No, Mr. Alrich, we haven’t found it yet, but we did contact it. It was used as the get-away vehicle in the death of Patrol Officer, Bob Clancy.”
Alrich harrumphed, “Yeah, now, maybe, we will see some action. Let a cop buy it and, then, the rest of you will get busy and do your job. Find the man who shot the cop and, then, you will find my car.”
I could really feel my hackles rising. First, this bastard’s juniper had triggered my asthma and, now, he was stating that old saw about cops working only to solve murders of their own and his obvious attitude concerning Clancy’s death. Again, the gentle hand of Parker calmed me down. I was thinking what I was like before Parker had become my partner.
“Mr. Alrich, you are right when we find the people who killed officer Clancy we will probably find your car. Now, we need a little more information about when and how it was stolen.” You could always count on Parker. You could count on Parker in a bar fight, also. Do not let her size fool you. This little gal could handle herself.
Alrich did not have anything to complain about so he just asked, “What more do you need?”
“You reported it missing on Wednesday, February 13th. When did you first notice it missing?” Parker asked him.
“Wednesday Morning, when I went out to drive to work,” Alrich replied. “I came right back into the house and phoned in the report. I had to drive that damned compact of my wife’s. An officer met me at the office with the forms I had to sign.”
Parker was making notations on her clip board. “When was the last time you actually remember seeing your Tahoe? Did you go out any time Tuesday night where you would have seen it? Did you hear anything that, now you might think was someone stealing it? Where do you park it?”
Alrich frowned, but before he could say anything, Parker repeated, “These are all things we need that might tell us something to find the thieves.”
Alrich was mollified, somewhat. “Well, I went out about 10:00 Tuesday night to check the security system. I think the SUV was there, then. I would think that if it was missing, I would have noticed. I always park it right near the house.”
Have you seen any strangers in the area?” Parker asked.
Alrich flicked an ash off his cigar. It was deftly caught, by Mrs. Alrich, before it reached the rug. “I wouldn’t know. You can ask security. I pay those clowns enough every month. They are supposed to watch the houses at night. They are supposed to stop any suspicious characters and ID them.”
Parker nodded and, looking at me, she stood. “I thank you for your assistance, Mr. Alrich. I hope we will have good news for you, shortly.”
James just growled. It was Mrs. Alrich who showed us the way out. “Did you find out what you needed, Officers?” she asked.
I looked at her, “Just the facts, Ma’am. All we need are just the facts.”
As soon as I got back in the car, I grabbed a Klenex. I sneezed to both rid myself of the Juniper pollen and, also, the stench I felt from Alrich. It was late when I drove Parker back to her place. We would have to check the security police who patrolled this neighborhood.
“I am tired, Max, and so are you. I will see you, tomorrow. Get some rest and take some asthma medicine.” She squeezed my hand as she got out. I waited until I saw her lights go on and her wave from the door. As I said before, we played our visible life straight. No fraternization. God, I was thankful for our secret life.