(As a young social worker embraces his femininity, he becomes an attractive young woman, creating complications in his love life, while facing danger in seeking to ferret out a human trafficking racket.)
Chapter Fifteen – Growing Danger
Marcus was jerked out of his reverie when his desk phone rang. It was Officer Heddy Jelacic whose voice he immediately recognized. She spoke in a raspy, crisp voice that sounded almost angry in tone.
“Marcus, I heard about your escapade,” she said without beginning with any of the usual small talk the two usually shared in their conversations. “What were you thinking? You could have gotten killed.”
“I thought I might learn some . . .”
His reply was shut off by Jelacic’s sharp voice. “Well, anyway, you’re going to have to come with me to the County Courts building to meet with the Task Force.”
“Oh?”
“Seems you stirred up a hornet’s nest and the Task Force brains need to talk to you and Jefferson Turner. And the Commander here is pissed and ordered me to work fulltime on this project.”
Marcus smiled. Perhaps, his escapade, as Heddy had called it, had achieved its purpose by getting some action out of the authorities.
“OK. When?”
“Tomorrow at ten in the morning at their office,” she said. “Let’s meet before for coffee.”
He agreed they’d meet at “Kaffee Klatzsch,” a popular coffee house near the Courts building at nine.
Officer Jelacic changed the subject suddenly. “I understand you make a pretty attractive young woman,” she said.
“So I’ve been told,” he admitted. He felt embarrassed to admit his cross-dressing to Heddy since it exposed his lack of masculinity to a woman who was obviously stronger and more fit than he was.
“I’d love to see you in a dress,” she said, her voice taking on a teasing quality.
“I have my admirers,” he laughed.
“Maybe you should come as a girl tomorrow. By the way, what girl’s name do you use?”
“Miranda, but I think I’ll come as Marcus.”
She laughed. “Guess you’re right. Some other time. See you at nine tomorrow, then.”
Without another word, Officer Jelacic hung up and was gone, leaving Marcus to wonder what she truly felt about his feminine nature. He turned to his computer and up-dated his calendar, realizing he’d have to miss the usual eight-in-the-morning Thursday staff meeting, something that was a “no-no” in the eyes of Director Rodriguez and Amy, his supervisor.
He fretted over how to tell Amy about his need to miss the meeting, hoping she’d stop by his desk and he could bring it up casually; otherwise, he realized he’d have to go into her private office, stand in front of her desk and make his request. He felt intimidated to stand before a superior – as Amy in reality was.
He had to leave by nine-thirty to get to his appointment with the Hartley family and he waited until he had about ten minutes to spare before entering Amy’s office. She looked up at him as he entered, saying nothing but fixing him with an expression that expressed annoyance. She still looked puffy and red-eyed.
“I’m going to have to miss the staff meeting tomorrow,” he said in a rush, feeling terribly inadequate. “I’ve been asked to be interviewed by the County Task Force looking into that Jefferson Turner case.”
“What time?”
“Ten, but I have to meet Officer Jelacic at nine.”
“You better come to the staff meeting at eight anyway. You can leave at ten to nine.”
“But . . .” he started to protest.
“No buts. See you at eight tomorrow morning and be on time. Good bye.”
She turned her back on him to look at her computer. He was dismissed.
Marcus wanted to cry.
*****
Amy’s reaction to Emery’s invitation troubled Marcus the rest of the day, haunting him through his home visits to the Hartley and Jenkins families and into his evening. He stopped by a nearby sandwich shop and picked up a turkey breast sub sandwich that would constitute his whole supper along with a diet cola drink.
He wanted to avoid getting into his tiny apartment that evening, feeling so confused and perhaps a bit depressed so he stopped at the small urban park, finding an empty picnic table. He set down his sandwich and drink. The food sat uneaten before him for a long time and he sat forlornly, staring blankly at the scene in the park that constituted a green respite amidst the tall buildings of the city. A gray half-light had already descended upon the area due the shade from the tall buildings that blocked out the setting sun. The park benches and occasional picnic benches were nearly all occupied, some with young couples cuddled together and others with old, unkempt men, possibly homeless individuals killing time. But Marcus didn’t see them; all he saw was Amy’s angry, dismissive actions that morning.
Perhaps to keep peace with Amy, he should call Emery and cancel their get-together, using an excuse that “something came up a work.” Yes, that’s what he would do; but, Emery would only seek to set up another date. Marcus continued to ponder the dilemma, then asking himself the question: what was wrong with having a drink with Emery? He wasn’t committing to a relationship or even going to bed with him. Besides, he and Amy weren’t engaged or anything. They’d made no promises to each other, had they?
His thoughts were interrupted when a voice said: “Mind I sit here? All the other tables are full.”
“Ah . . . oh . . . yeah. Go ahead,” Marcus replied, finally shaken out of his stupor.
The man was well-dressed in a blue business suit, white shirt and a tie opened slightly at the neck. He was middle-aged with a full head of black hair, a bit a gray showing at the temples. He smiled at Marcus and said, “Thank you. Hope you didn’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Marcus said, turning quickly to his sandwich that still lie unopened before him.
“My name’s Quincy . . . or Quin, for short,” the man said, holding out his hand from across the picnic table. The man also placed a paper bag with the printed symbol of a well-known fast food place on the table.
“Mir . . . ah . . . Marcus.”
“Marcus, can I call you Mark?”
“Marcus is what everyone calls me.”
“Alone, too, tonight, Marcus?” the man asked after several minutes. Marcus still hadn’t opened his sandwich.
“Ah, yes.” Marcus said, simply without any further comment.
Both men ate silently and Marcus quickly became deep in thought oblivious to the stranger and the park surroundings. Marcus grew more depressed as he realized his potential loss of Amy as a lover, and he rubbed his eyes as if to brush away a tear.
“Something bothering you, Marcus?” the stranger named Quincy asked.
“Huh?”
“You seem also sad tonight,” the man repeated.
“I guess.”
“Care to share your concerns?” It was a kind suggestion and didn’t seem intrusive.
“Nah, it’s OK. Just a personal matter,” Marcus said, hoping the man would just go away.
“It’s none of my business, I know, but sometimes sharing your worries with a stranger can help,” Quincy said, a warm smile accompanying the comment.
“No, I don’t want to bore you with my problems,” Marcus said.
“I’ve got nothing but time tonight. Go ahead.”
Five minutes later, Marcus finished telling of his apparent breakup with Amy and how it affected him. For some reason, Marcus even admitted that he sometimes dressed up as Miranda. The revelation didn’t seem to shock the man, who continued to ask questions in an empathetic manner that prompted Marcus to tell the man about things he’d rarely admit to anyone else.
“You must have made a very pretty young woman,” Quincy volunteered at one point.
“That’s what people keep telling me. I kind of like being dressed as Miranda,” he agreed, immediately sorry that he admitted to his feelings.
“I’d like to see Miranda sometime.”
Marcus laughed. “I don’t know about that. I’ve got enough complications in my life, Quincy.”
“I sense you’ve got nothing to do tonight and I have no plans. My apartment is just a couple of blocks down and I have a bunch of my old girlfriend’s stuff. She’s supposed to come by and get it, but hasn’t yet. Why not give it a try?”
Marcus was shocked by the invitation. No way would he agree to go to a strange man’s apartment.
“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t go to anyone’s apartment I don’t know,” Marcus said.
“It’s a shame, my ex has some really great looking dresses and you’d look divine in them. You look about her size.”
Marcus smiled. “Sounds inviting, but no thanks, Quincy.”
“Fair enough,” Quincy said. “I don’t go about making invitations like this. In fact, this is the first time, but you looked so sad and I don’t plan anything nasty. Just two guys sharing their lives for a brief moment. Let me tell you something about myself then.”
“No, Quincy, that’s not necessary,” Marcus said, determined to remain firm in his decision not to accompany the man to his apartment.
“I do social work, too,” Quincy said.
Marcus was growing suspicious of the man’s insistence that he go to his apartment. Did the man have sexual desires he needed satisfied? Possibly, Marcus figured. He’d been approached before by man who were apparently gay who invited him to go off with them, but usually they accepted rejections fairly quickly once the learned Marcus was not interested in a gay relationship.
“Quincy, I’ve got to go,” Marcus said, gathering up his partially eaten sandwich and drink and lifting himself off the picnic bench.
“But, Marcus . . .”
“Nice talking with you. Bye.”
Marcus walked away, dumping his drink cup and the remains of his sandwich into a trash can. He kept looking straight ahead and it was only after he rounded a curve in the park walk and was somewhat shrouded by bushes that he looked back to see if he was being followed. The trail behind him was empty and Marcus picked up his pace, hoping to put distance between him and the well-dressed man.
It was when he reached the street and looked to hail a cab that the realization hit him. Quincy knew that Marcus was a social worker; he was certain he hadn’t mentioned that fact when telling his story. How did the man know? And, why had he sat down on his bench? The more he thought about it he also knew that the meeting in the park had not been serendipitous. He had been targeted.
Though it was warm, Marcus shivered as he awaited an empty cab; he knew the chill came from his own fright. He stood on the avenue for several minutes, growing more and more impatient and frightened. Finally, one stopped and Marcus hopped in, giving the driver his address. As they pulled away from the curb, Marcus looked out the back window of the cab to see if there were any signs of him being followed. Aside from the normal street traffic, he saw nothing suspicious.
Yet, he didn’t feel he could breathe easy. Something was up, and it must have been due to his escapade into the adventure of teen girl trafficking.
*****
His small apartment was hot and muggy, but Marcus still felt chilled and he took off his clothes and totally nude flung himself onto his bed, pulling a sheet and comforter over him. He curled up in a fetal position and tried to warm up.
It was obvious; he was a hunted man. No doubt, the men who had abducted him were concerned about what he had seen that night, just as they had gone after Jefferson Turner when he escaped. Young Jefferson was probably safe in the confines of Hope Place, but Marcus was exposed. And, he was known to them.
When he finally warmed up and stopped shivering, Marcus began to consider his next steps. Normally, he’d call Amy, but given their recently cold relationship he didn’t feel that would help. He considered calling Officer Heddy Jelacic, but he only had her police number and she’d obviously not be working. Maybe Emery might help, he thought, but quickly rejected that since he had no proof that his meeting in the park with a man called Quincy was anything more than a casual park chat.
“I’ll have to do my own detective work,” he said out loud.
The idea scared him. He didn’t know where to start. Most of all, he was worried about what he’d find out.
*****
Marcus awoke the next morning to the sounds of a lone cardinal singing his cheerful song outside his partially opened window. Buoyed by the lyrical melody, he felt momentarily cheery. His reverie was short-lived as he recalled his encounter the previous night with the strange man named Quincy. His thoughts began to race and he tried to put himself at ease as he completed his shower and readied his simple morning breakfast of yogurt, a banana, a bit of granola and a single cup of tea.
“I still alive, at least,” he said to himself. The words caused him to laugh and begin to wonder if he was being silly by even considering that Quincy might be part of a mass plot to eliminate him – gangster-style.
Temporarily satisfied with the rationalization that he had nothing to fear, he set off to work hoping to get to the office early enough to check his emails before the eight o’clock staff meeting.
*****
Amy was all business as she opened the morning staff meeting; there was none of the usual small talk that often took up at fifteen minutes at the start of the meeting. All eight social workers who were part of Amy’s team were present and they looked at each other in wonderment, curious as to the cause of their supervisor’s unusual dour behavior. It was a practice each meeting that each worker briefly outline one case – usually their most troublesome situation – and then open up for discussion on possible solutions to the case. As she does at every meeting, she assured the workers that they should feel free to be open and frank.
“We look to this case-sharing to be a learning experience for all of us,” she began. “We are not looking for criticism from other workers. Each case is different and we don’t want any of you to feel a worker has made a mistake. Perhaps the worker did make a mistake, but then don’t we all? When you’re dealing with human beings there never is an easy answer.”
In spite of Amy’s warning, the workers nonetheless were wary of giving information on any case where they could be accused to being wrong or where they could be accused of being lazy. Marcus, who was the newest on staff, always felt uneasy in presenting his cases since he was always questioning himself on his own abilities.
This morning, however, he was totally ignored; Amy refused to acknowledge him when he tried to speak up to offer a suggestion in one of Mollie’s cases. Aware of Amy’s unusual cool demeanor that morning, all of the workers kept their comments short and concise. One by one, each worker described a case, except for Marcus. Amy never gave him an opportunity to discuss his case and adjourned the meeting.
“But Amy, I didn’t get a chance to . . .” he protested.
“Mr. Whiting, we’re done here. Adjourned.” Amy’s works were sharp, angry.
As he left the room, Latesha came to his side and whispered, “What’s up, Marcus? Did you two have a fight?”
“I guess,” was all Marcus could reply, holding back his need to burst into tears.
“I won’t pry, Marcus, but if you need a friend, I’m here . . .”
Latesha’s words were interrupted as Amy yelled out, “Mr. Whiting, you’re to report to Mr. Ramirez now. Don’t go back to your desk, don’t talk to anyone. See Mr. Ramirez now.”
The whole office staff was silent and Marcus felt every eye was upon him. He never felt more rejected in his life.
*****
Marcus stopped dead in his tracks; he was only ten feet from his own desk. Nonetheless, Amy’s command was specific and demanding. He paused for what seemed like minutes, but in reality, it was just a few seconds. No longer did he feel like bursting into tears. Instead he was filled with a mixture of fright and anger. It just didn’t seem fair that he was being treated with what seemed like sheer contempt, even though his actions had been aimed at trying to help Jefferson Turner and young people like him. That angered him and now he was being summoned to what was certainly to be a reprimand of some sort.
Hector Ramirez had an “open door policy,” meaning that any staff member was free to knock and enter his office if he was alone and not on the phone. Marcus rapped on the door.
“Come in and close the door, Mr. Whiting,” said the director looking up from his computer, his expression serious. Gone was the director’s usual cheerful face; he seemed always to have a sparkling, pleasant demeanor. Marcus saw only a dour face on the handsome man.
“Mr. Whiting, as you know, you’re still in your probationary period here,” he began.
“It’s six months, isn’t it, sir?” Marcus asked. “I’m just a week short of that, I think.”
“You’re still in your probation period, though, and your behavior recently will endanger the reputation and efficacy of our agency. Therefore, I am terminating you immediately.”
Marcus was shocked. He was prepared for some kind of reprimand, even though he felt he’d done nothing wrong.
“But . . .” he protested, holding back tears that would soon burst out.
“I’m afraid I have no choice, Mr. Whiting. You’ll have to go.”
“Why? What did I do? Is it about my crossdressing?”
“No, what you do in your own private time is no business of ours, as long as it’s legal. But, engaging in prostitution is illegal and we can’t have a prostitute here. Your actions the other night were despicable, and now you are trying to accuse other reputable citizens of a crime. We can’t be involved in anything like that.”
Marcus wanted to explain that his escapade was nothing but his own personal sting operation against a group that seemed to be targeting vulnerable young boys and girls.
“We thought you had promise here and you seemed to be fulfilling my belief that men could be effective workers in that program, but you disappointed me, Mr. Whiting,” the director continued.
Marcus continued to look directly at the director; he had successfully held back from crying. He decided he would not plead to keep his job, but would hold his head high. As the director continued talking, Marcus could see the man was growing uneasy, likely due to Marcus’ stolid response.
There was a knock, and Ramirez yelled “come in.” Two persons entered and Marcus recognized them as Patti Hettely, the agency’s human relations person, and Malik Lincoln, the chief building security officer.
“Take care of this Patti and Malik. I want him out of the building in thirty minutes. Let him get his personal belongings from his desk, but make sure he doesn’t take anything else, particularly a flash drive or CD. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” Malik said, not looking at Marcus.
“Patti, arrange for him to get two weeks’ pay and complete any termination papers you need to,” he ordered.
“Come on Marcus,” Malik said, gently, helping the young man to his feet.
He was led from the director’s office; Ramirez said nothing as he left.
*****
Patti asked Marcus a few simple questions, such as where to send his check. She advised him that the agency would not approve his application for unemployment compensation since he had been terminated and not laid off. Likely, too, because the state’s Republican administration had so tightened compensation rules Marcus figured he wouldn’t qualify anyway.
Marcus mused that Patti Hettely was terribly unsympathetic for a person designated to be “human relations officer,” even though she was a trim looking woman in her early thirties, with long blonde hair. She could have been a beautiful woman, except for the firm, tight expression around her mouth. His conclusions about her were further confirmed by the curt way she dismissed him from her office. Not even a word about how her office might assist him in finding a new job or adjusting to the cruel fate of being “fired.”
“You’re done here. Go,” she said without emotion.
Malik Lincoln, however, was sympathetic, whispering in his ear as he led Marcus to his desk that he was sure there was “some sort of misunderstanding.” In his nearly six months at the agency, Marcus had come to like the huge, muscular man – a onetime professional wrestler – who routinely had some pleasant words to say to him as he entered the building or left the building from his position in the building’s lobby.
*****
Out of uniform, Heddy Jelacic was a strikingly statuesque and attractive woman; her short light brown hair was fixed with a few curls helped to form a face that could only be described as cute. She suggested they meet for dinner at the Café Danzig, a popular restaurant that featured Polish and German entries. “It’s out of the way, Marcus, and no chance of being seen there.”
In her phone call, she had explained that it was important the two not be seen together by anyone connected to either the police department or Opportunities, Inc.
“So, you’ve been both fired and told to stay away from Jefferson Turner and not to have anything to do with Madison Heights?” she asked.
“Yes, and Mr. Ramirez was especially firm about that,” Marcus said.
“This is not only strange, but it sounds a bit scary, doesn’t it?”
"I guess we need to act in a ‘cloak-and-dagger’ fashion, and the restaurant sounds good for that,” Marcus said. Briefly, he toyed with telling Heddy about being approached by the man in the park and his own growing suspicions that the man may have been stalking him.
Café Danzig was located in one of those changing urban neighborhoods; for more than one hundred years the area had been home to the city’s huge Polish population, but recent immigration was causing the stores in the area to display its signs in Spanish, replacing the old Polish language signs. The café was in a nondescript large concrete block building; window frames in ornate style showed a small intent to add some Polish character to the outside façade.
Marcus was impressed with how lovely Heddy Jelacic was when dressed up. He mused that a woman as attractive as she was that night deserved to have a man at her elbow that was more handsome and masculine than he was. If his wimpish looks bothered her, she gave no clue. Instead, she greeted him with a huge smile and opened her arms for a hug. They stood eye-to-eye as they exchanged a chaste kiss.
“Let’s not worry about calories tonight,” Heddy said as they studied the menu. “The pierogi here is great, the dumplings aren’t too heavy and I usually choose the pork shank.”
She was right; Marcus chose the pierogi and found it every bit as delicious as Heddy had promised it would be. Yet, he feared it would add an inch to his waist. Marcus found himself enthralled with the uniforms worn by the waitresses. He wondered how he’d look in the colorful, full skirts, the white fluffy blouses and bib-like vests, with all the embroidery and frilly lace.
Heddy must have read his mind. “Their outfits are lovely, aren’t they?” she queried.
He reddened with her comment. She smiled warmly, as if to reassure him it was OK for him to imagine himself as Miranda in one of the outfits.
“You know you were both stupid and courageous, Marcus,” she said once the two had finished their meals; they both passed on dessert, settling for coffee.
“For what?”
“For venturing out as a teen prostitute. You were crazy to do it, but it was gutsy, proving you don’t have to be a big strong crude guy to be brave,” she said.
“Something had to be done,” he replied. “No one seemed to care.”
Heddy nodded. “And now they want this whole thing to be swept under the rug,” she said.
“Maybe that’s behind my firing,” Marcus replied.
“I wouldn’t doubt it. When I asked about you when we first started investigating, Amy said you were the greatest new worker she’d ever had. Now, you’re fired and for what? Certainly not for incompetence. It just doesn’t compute. Could it have happened to stifle the investigation?”
Marcus wasn’t certain Amy’s change of heart had anything to do with the investigation of child trafficking that may have involved Jefferson Turner and most likely many other youth. More likely, he felt, it was her jealousy over his acceptance of meeting Emery Harrington. Yet, it was probably a combination of both, he felt.
“We need to check into the Browning link,” Heddy said. “You said you heard one of the thugs use that name?”
“Yes, and then he caught himself, like he said something he shouldn’t.”
“Hmmm, that’s interesting. The Brownings practically own that town, you know,” she said.
“Do you have a picture of the Browning mansion?” he asked.
“You did get a glimpse of it, you said. Do you think you saw enough to recognize it?”
“I think so, but I can’t find a picture of it in my online search,” Marcus said. He had done some cursory checking of the name and learned how politically powerful the family was in the area.
“I’ll see if I can find a picture,” she said. “There really must be. And, you know, something else sounds suspicious. Madison Heights police said they had no record of you being picked up that night. None at all.”
“My God, they even took my fingerprints,” Marcus replied. “They’re lying.”
“I smell a cover-up.”
That new information prompted Marcus to relate the story of the man in the park. Heddy grew alarmed. “Oh, my God,” she said. “You could be in danger.”
*****
As they left the restaurant, Marcus noticed they were eyed, mainly by the men in the place. It was obvious they were eyeing the tall woman in front of him. Heddy’s form-fitting cocktail dress displayed her truly remarkable figure, trim waist, attractive butt and hips and modest, but firm and erect breasts. Her muscular arms and legs may have detracted a bit from her femininity, but they left the impression of a confident, determined woman.
Marcus wondered if he, as Miranda, would ever draw such admiring – perhaps even lustful – glances. Certainly, he was softer and exuded more femininity than the police officer in front of him, but he wondered if he would be as sexy. The couple shared a hug in the parking lot, with Marcus feeling the more fragile of the two. Officer Jelacic held Marcus close to her and he smelled her perfume.
“I love your perfume, Heddy,” he said as they broke apart.
“Thank you. I’m pleased you noticed. It’s not too expensive and you can get it at Macy’s,” she smiled.
She gave him the perfume’s name. It was a French name and Marcus wasn’t certain how it was spelled, so he asked her to spell it out. She did and then smiled, “You’re very much a woman, aren’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“From what I’ve seen of your pictures, you’re a true beauty. I’m jealous.”
Marcus laughed, remembering the reactions of the men in the café. “You got nothing to be jealous about, Heddy.”
“You’re sweet,” she said. Giving him a kiss on his cheek, as she turned to enter her car.
Marcus held onto her hand, preventing her from moving toward the car. He enjoyed her company and was reluctant to let go. “Well, I enjoy your company and I like you very much,” he said, surprising himself with his sudden forwardness. He felt comfortable being with her.
She smiled, quickly bringing her other hand over to grasp his. Her grip was firm, but gentle and his hand felt small and weak in her grip.
“Well, I like you, too,” she replied with a smile. “Maybe we can do a girls’ night out sometime, right Miranda? I’d like to see the lovely girl in real life.”
“Really?” he asked astounded that she’d entertain him dressed as a young woman.
“Of course,” she said, releasing his hand, and turning to enter her car.
“Good night,” he said.
“Now Marcus, you be careful and keep an eye out. Report anything you see that might be suspicious, even if you think it might be trivial,” she warned, standing at the opened door of her car.
“I will,” he assured her.
“And I’ll check out that Browning lead, too,” she said, entering her car.
As he drove to his apartment, Marcus forgot the apparent danger he was in, but concentrated instead on Heddy’s desire to see him again – as Miranda. The thought excited him as he imagined walking into a club with the statuesque Heddy Jelacic at his side, hoping that his own feminine beauty would attract as many admiring – and lustful eyes – as Heddy had that evening. He wondered if Heddy visited lesbian bars. He knew he’d be the femme in a lesbian couple, with Heddy the butch.
He didn’t notice the black SUV that followed several cars behind.
(Thanks to Eric for proofreading and great suggestions in the plot)
Comments
Time for a blonde joke?
The way Marcus and Heddy have discussed his sleuthing and consequent firing along with every thing else going sideways having any connection to the involuntary slavery of the kids. Miranda suddenly slip back into dumb broad mode? I would think if Miranda had any inkling she was the object of attention from those with enough power to change police records. Those who can tell city hall welfare who to hire hire fire, along with being shunned by so called friends as if she suddenly developed red and blue spots all over her body. She would be more focused on staying alive than evening attire, social graces, and ideas of herself and Miranda.
Seriously, did her mind slip a cog? Basic survival instinct doesn't kick in? I hope Heddy has taken this a lot more seriously than Miranda and is following the black SUV who is so focused on Miranda they have the same brain drain and aren't thinking they could be the hunted instead of the hunters.
hugs hon
always,
Barb
Oklahoma born and raised cowgirl
A Lamb Amongst Wolves
Marcus should have been suspicious the moment a stranger came to sit with him and started pumping him for information. Instead he poured his heart out until he finally got some tiny inkling that all was not right.
Then he's fired without cause under the flimsiest of circumstances. Heddy tells him there is no record of his arrest and he STILL acts like a love-struck ingenue. As for being followed home, they have no need to do that as they surely know where he lives.
I am expecting real mayhem in the next chapter.
fired
Fired for a non-existent arrest?
If there is no record of his arrest........
There is no grounds for his dismissal. You can’t accuse him of prostitution if there is no record of an arrest, and that doesn’t even cover that there is no conviction of anything. Even if he is still within his probationary period, there has to be a reason given for dismissal, and based on Heddy’s comments his records should show that performance was into an issue.
I suspected from the very beginning that more people were involved in the conspiracy than obviously apparent - including potentially at his former place of work. Most notably Amy. Her removal of Marcus from Jefferson’s case was suspicious.
One can’t help but wonder just how deep this goes. Marcus tells Amy that he has to meet with the Task Force, and the next day he gets fired? Yeah, more going on here than meets the eye.
D. Eden
Dum Vivimus, Vivamus
Hang on a minute
This whole firing of Marcus really smells of CYA in a big way.
Heddy just told Marcus that the Madison Heights police have no record of Marcus being arrested, but Ramirez mentioned prostitution for the reason Marcus was fired.
How did Ramirez know about Marcus being seen as a prostitute? If there's no police record then Ramirez should not have known about what Marcus did. And if there's no record then how did he associate Marcus with prostitution? No record means no names for anyone, but it was Marcus they knew about.
Putting two and two together and it smells like the very agency he was working for is involved with the child prostitution ring. And because they have his fingerprints, it'd be easy to deduce the rest by that agency.
If Marcus told Heddy everything, including what Ramirez told Marcus, then she may be putting the pieces together and realize that agency might be involved up to their hairline.
If they are doing damage control, and firing Marcus was the beginning, might his death be another step in covering up their operation?
Others have feelings too.