All's Fair Pt. 2 - Introduction to Sinny

“Here’s the list of suspects, sir.” Detective Morgan’s words were accompanied by a folder placed on his desk. The words were gruff, the movements tense. Morgan was not happy with Sinny’s appointment. There were many that shared his opinion, both in the force and in the city. That would have to change, if Sinny wanted to keep his job.

“Let’s go through them, then. We need to end this quickly, before things turn into an all-out gang war. You said there were two different ones?” Sinny said. He had no intention of proving the detective right about him; in fact, he had every intention of proving him completely wrong.

“Yes - les Fantômes in the South by the River, and The Roses in the North by Lake Pontchartrain. les Fantômes does a lot of hard liquor - whiskey, gin, shit like that. The Roses have more wine, beer, ale, softer stuff. We suspect that some of the priests are in on it, passing around their communion wine.” Morgan paused, as if waiting for a condemnation or a denial of the clergy’s involvement, but continued when he got no reaction. “There are two groups of suspects we have for the gang leaders: crime kingpins, and rich people hoping to get even richer.”

“Any individuals? Or at least smaller groups? If we go around questioning every criminal or millionaire in the city, we’re going to get nowhere real fast – and the whole damn city will close up around us,” Sinny warned. One didn’t go busting down every door in the city if they wanted progress – it was a good way to turn an entire city against you.

Morgan shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. “A few, but they’re all real powerful, connected ones. Not people we want hearing about our investigation. Especially if we want to live or keep our jobs.”

“Well, making no progress is an even better one. List ‘em off.”

“Yes, sir. First off: Ryan Bradley, male, 36, priors in assault, armed robbery, and arson. Acquitted of the arson because the prosecution couldn’t find witnesses – specifically, witnesses that would testify," the Detective said, clearly unhappy about the fact. No cop ever likes hitting a dead end, especially that one.

“He likes the a’s, it seems. No witnesses ‘cause of loyalty or fear?” Sinny asked. Fear could be handled – police guards and the promise of sending the man to jail would work. Loyalty would be more difficult.

“Could be either. Or, more likely, both. The people he works with like him and everyone else is scared shitless of him. He’s not really someone to mess with, though the people down at the state prison would probably be happy to see him." Morgan said with a slightly cruel smile.

“Well, if we need to ask about him, we can pretend it’s about one of the priors. Who’s next?”

“Edwin Palmer, male, 47, owner of the Palmer Drugstores. He’s rich, and has unlimited access to alcohol as long as it's ‘medicinal’. He’s the type that’ll do anything to get more money, even if it’s illegal or unethical,"The detective replied.

“So he’s definitely one to keep an eye on.” Sinny stated, taking a quick glance towards the detective.

“Yes. The next one I’m not sure about, though: Seth Adams. Another richie, though of a different sort. He’s old money, and got more after he married his wife, Victoria Owens. He’s an award-winning writer, and frequents jazz bars and libraries. Generally known as a fairly nice man if a bit . . . queer," Morgan said the word as if it left a slightly bad taste in his mouth, implying that he didn't just mean weird.

“You think those jazz bars aren’t just for jazz?” Sinny questioned, raising a brow.

“They weren’t before he was married, at least. It seems like he’s completely besotted with his wife, but you never know. Most people think that he’s finally settled down, ready to be a good Christian man with a good Christian family, even though no one’s ever seen him or his wife in church. All in all, though, he doesn’t seem the type to be a crime kingpin.” Morgan offered the explanation as if the rumors were right, and left it at that.

“Impressions can be deceiving. Would I have run into any of them at the press conference?” Sinny asked, wanting to possibly put faces to the names.

“Not run into, but Palmer and Adams were there. Palmer was the one with the pinstripe suit, who looked like an old church lady hearing about her granddaughter going to the tavern when you brought up the death penalty. Adams and his wife were standing in the corner – the man with the notebook and the woman in the red and black dress,” Morgan said with a smile over the memory of Vic Adams in that dress.

“What’s the wife like? What does she feel about her maybe-queer, maybe-cheating husband?” Sinny pressed, leaning forward.

“As far as anyone can tell, she doesn’t really care. She’s always seemed just as in love with him as he has with her, and whenever anyone asks her about what he did before they were married she just says that it’s in the past. As for what she’s like, well – think about the usual idea of a nice, rich wife. Quiet, calm, obedient, nothing but arm candy?" Morgan paused, looking slightly disbelieving that anyone could think that, making Sinny think that his own wife didn't always have those particular qualities, and continued, "Well, if you think of the opposite, you get Victoria Adams. She’s not shy about voicing her opinions, has quite a temper if someone crosses her, and does a lot of things that no good husband would like. She's well-liked in the city, though -- she does a lot of artwork, helped design the war memorial. They donate a lot to hospitals and charities and the such."

"From what you've said, it seems like the Mrs. is more likely to be a suspect than her husband. Why is he on the suspect list, anyway?" Sinny wondered.

"Well, they're the richest people in the state. Them and their families own half the city -- they rent it out to tenants that pay them surprisingly low rates, but they're ruthless with overdue payments and evictions. Seth is set to inherit all of it plus a couple extra million dollars and properties in about ten different states after his father dies. He and his family run many other businesses of varying legality -- what's one more?" the Detective said with a shrug, as if this veritable leap of logic made perfect sense.

"That does make more sense, I suppose. Put discreet watches on all of them -- I want all of their movements, everyone they talk to. Discreetly. We don’t want them alerted to the fact that we’re on to them. However, if one of them commits a non-gang-related crime, bring them in for it. The sooner we can get the perpetrators into custody, the better. Understood?” Sinny asked.

“Yes sir. Also, Detective Thomas wants to see you.”

“Let him in, thank you. Dismissed.”

Morgan left, seeming less suspicious and disappointed than he had when he came in. That was good – the rest of the force would follow his lead.

Just after Morgan left, Lawrence Thomas came in. Lawrence came in, sat down, and immediately picked up one of the knicknacks on Sinny’s desk, and kicked his feet up over the other chair.

“Sooo, how is my favorite asshole acclimating?” Lawrence asked, not even trying to be respectful.

“Lawrence, can you at least try to pretend that I’m your superior officer? You’re supposed to be showing me respect, remember.”

“Oh come on, I respect you plenty. You don’t live through a year in the trenches without learning to respect the people around you. I’ll be nice in public — can’t have you being embarrassed in front of your adoring crowds — but it’s just us. I’ve known you for — how long? — three years? I’m not gonna pretend like we aren’t friends,” Lawrence ended his speech rather sternly, impressing his intent on Sinny.

“All right, all right. I suppose I should have known better than to ask Mr. “Hey Mr. German Soldier, do you perhaps have a hand grenade we can use?” Thomas to be serious,” Sinny replied.

“Says Sir “This is the worst torture experience I’ve ever had. 0 stars, do not recommend.” While both you and Émilie were being tortured and we’d all just watched Edwin be murdered. So you have no right to lecture me about seriousness, my friend,” Lawrence shot back.

Sinny let out a sigh before replying, “Fine. Thanks for bringing that up, by the way. Such a nice thing to do to your friends, bringing up that time they were tortured. In other news — what do you think about the suspects?”

“What do you think about the suspects?” Lawrence replied, wagging his eyebrows.

“Are you asking me if I find any of these suspected criminals attractive?” Sinny asked, disbelieving despite knowing that it was absolutely something Lawrence would ask.

Lawrence, the bastard, didn’t even look sheepish. “Maybe. What’s so wrong with it? They’re only suspected criminals. Well, except for Bradley, but it’s not like he’s a looker anyway. Both Adamses seems like your type, though —“

“My type does not and will not include possible suspects, especially if I’m the one in charge of the investigation. Also — how do you know what my type is, you’ve only met Edwin and Émilie,” Sinny asked, slightly annoyed.

“True, but let’s look at the similarities,” Lawrence started.

“Let’s not, actually.”

“Edwin and Vic Adams — they’re both kind but bitchy, very competent, rather prim but not afraid to get their hands dirty, and protective to the point of violence of those they love. Émilie and Seth Adams are softhearted, cunning but people don’t know it, and have spines of steel,” Lawrence listed off.

“I feel like you’re giving me a sales pitch.”

“Well, you do need to get out more. Also a place to live. You don’t have very much money, either, do you?” Lawrence pressed.

“Are you saying that I should whore myself out to a suspected criminal millionaire so he’ll pay for my apartment and groceries?” Sinny asked.

“A suspected criminal millionaire and his hot wife! Very charitable ones, too, they’ll probably pay for more than groceries. But no, I don't want you to go whoring. I think you need a boyfriend. And I might be working on getting the Chief to agree with me," Lawrence said, finally dropping the actual reason he was here.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Unlike when he dropped the last subject, Lawrence looked a bit hesitant as he said,“So, me and the Chief were talking – he asked me about how your appointment was going with the men. I said that it might go better if we hired someone to help with the gang violence – a consultant, someone from here. Someone liked. And, well, Vic Adams donated a couple thousand dollars to the force last month, and everyone in the city likes her–”

“You volunteered the wife of one of our suspects to work on our case? What the fuck, Lawrence!” Sinny snapped, draining the last of his scotch from the glass he’d had at the press conference and pouring more from the bottle behind his desk.

“And I have an explanation! If you let her help, you might get insights into what he’s doing. It could also keep him complacent, thinking he’s off the hook! Come on, you have to understand. It’ll be fine,” Lawrence insisted.

“How close are you to convincing the Chief?” Sinny asked, having given up on trying to stop Lawrence’s bullshit.

“All that’s left is asking Adams herself. I can’t imagine she’d say no — it’s a great PR stunt, and gets her some more money while she's at it,” Lawrence replied.

“Fine. Your team will have to take up the investigation on Adams, so she won’t catch wind of it. And before you ask, it’s because I trust you, and have faith in your abilities. Also because I’m mad at you for springing this on me,” Sinny said with a sigh.

“And so we have a deal.”