Barney took off his sunglasses and slid them into the breast pocket of his shirt. His brown eyes were bloodshot and he had dark bags under them. For half a second, Jessie thought she saw apprehension in them. Then he seemed to rediscover his inner jerk.
“I won’t be pushed around,” he said indignantly. “I’m a lawyer, you know.”
“Yes,” Jessie agreed mildly, speaking to him for the first time. “We did a little research on you, Barney. And despite your copious experience in the divorce space, you might want to rethink how aggressive to be when it comes to criminal law.”
“Criminal law? I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“That’s why we’d like to talk to you, Barney,” Ryan reminded him.
“We’re not friends,” Hemsley barked. “You don’t get to call me Barney. And I still don’t know who you are. You could be some con man posing as a cop for all I know.”
Ryan removed his ID from his pocket in a casually unhurried manner before showing it to Hemsley. Jessie knew what he was up to. The hope was that Hemsley would get so riled that he’d do something impulsive— push one of them or make a sudden move—anything that would allow them to take him into custody, or at least threaten him with that to get the upper hand.
“My name is Detective Ryan Hernandez,” Ryan said slowly. “I’m with Homicide Special Section, a unit based out of downtown’s Central Station.”
Jessie saw Hemsley’s eyes widen briefly at the word “homicide” before he regained control of himself. He looked over at her.
“And who’s the skirt?’ he demanded derisively.
“The skirt?” Jessie repeated, laughing in his face as she pulled out her own ID. “What is this, 1947? The skirt is Jessie Hunt, criminal profiler based out of the same station. Now are you going to be responsive, Barney?”
She made sure to punch the name emphatically and saw that it had the desired effect. Hemsley’s face turned redder than his eyes and his breathing got puffy.
“I don’t think so,” he said wheezily. “Unless you have a warrant, you have no right to be here. And I’m not coming out. So you can go back downtown and question some of those street bums in your neck of the woods. I’m done with you.”
He started to slam the door but Ryan stuck his foot out before it could close, stopping it.
“That’s not going to work for me, Barney,” he said, popping hard on the “B” in his name. “You see, I heard what your gal pal in there said and I couldn’t help but notice white powder around her nostrils. So we’ve got plain view evidence supporting our suspicion that there is illegal drug activity going on in this house. We also have reason to be concerned that if we waited for a warrant, you would try to dispose of that evidence. We can’t allow that to happen.”
“You’re making that up,” Hemsley protested. “You didn’t see anything on Brandee’s nose.”
Ryan looked at Jessie, shaking his head in disappointment.
“That’s exactly what someone hiding large quantities of cocaine in his house would say,” he noted. “I’m afraid that’s not going to fly, Barney. So I’m going to give you one more chance. Come out here and answer our questions. It’s entirely possible that your honest responses could send us on our way. Or you can continue to be difficult and have the worst night of your life, at least until you try to comb that rat’s nest on your head.”
The line was so over the top that Jessie was sure Hemsley would sense that Ryan didn’t actually want him to suddenly become cooperative. He had to see that this detective was itching for him to do something, baiting him into a bad decision. But Barney seemed unaware. And since he was quite likely both drunk and high right now, she was pretty confident that he’d oblige. She was right.
“I pay your salary,” Hemsley shouted angrily. “You have no right to talk to me that way. I ought to put you in your place!”
“Are you threatening me, Barney?” Ryan asked, taking a half step forward and dangerously shrinking the empty space between the two men. “It sounds like you are. What would you do, sit on me?”
That was all Hemsley could take. He shoved his finger in Ryan’s chest, poking him angrily as he opened his mouth to retort. But before he could get a word out, Ryan had grabbed the guy by the finger, twisted his arm back behind him, and kicked out the back of his left leg so that he collapsed to his knees. Within seconds, Hemsley was in cuffs and Ryan was reading him his rights.
“By the way, Barney,” he said when he finished. “You don’t pay my salary. But you did help pay for the station where we’re taking you. So it should be a real nice cell.”
Hemsley tried to spit on him but he was short of breath and the saliva didn’t go far enough, instead merely dribbling down his chin before getting hopelessly entangled in his abundant chest hair.
“Can you go collect the lady of the house?” Ryan asked Jessie. “I have a feeling she might be more receptive to us than Grumpy here.”
Jessie nodded and headed down the hall, pretending not to hear the names Barney called her as she walked away, nor the loud grunt of discomfort from him that followed. When she rounded the corner into the living room, she found Brandee passed out on the couch. She shook her gently to wake her up, then helped her to her feet and put a pair of cuffs on her.
“Hey,” Brandee protested hazily. “I thought we weren’t using those until later tonight, Barney.”
Jessie wasn’t sure how to respond.
At least I still have the capacity to be surprised.
“We’re starting the party early,” she finally said.
“Party!” Brandee shouted in response, her voice managing to drown out even Metallica.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Barney lawyered up right away.
Ryan and Jessie had expected it. But since there was no way he was going to talk back at his place, bringing him into the station was a risk worth taking. While they waited for his attorney to show up, they hung out in the MBPD lounge, which was infinitely nicer than their own.
The one downside was that the holding room where they were keeping Brandee was just across the hall and her constant shrieking was giving Jessie a headache.
“I was going to wait until Brandee sobered up,” she said to Ryan. “But maybe if we question her now, we can at least get her to stop screaming. What do you think?”
“I’m willing to try anything,” he said.
Jessie bought a frosted cupcake and they walked across the hall, where Brandee seemed to be trying to destroy her vocal cords in just one night. Jessie held up the dessert in front of the woman and the screeching stopped immediately.
“This is yours if you answer a few questions for us,” Jessie told her.
Brandee stared unblinkingly at the cupcake and swallowed hard.
“Barney told me I should never answer any cop questions until he gave me permission.”
Jessie pulled out a chair and sat down, putting the cupcake between them on the table.
“A couple of things on that,” she said. “First, I’m not a cop. I’m a profiler, so you’re good on that front. Second, Barney may be in a lot of trouble and I’m not sure it’s in your best interest to be following his instructions right about now. And maybe most important of all, I can’t give you the cupcake if you don’t talk.”