Chat - Archer Mayor [52]
There was a knock on the open door, and a tall, angular man stood awkwardly on the threshold.
“You called for me, Chief?” he asked warily.
He was young, obviously not long on the force, and still looking slightly out of place in his uniform. Giordi brought him over to the table with the open binder. He gestured toward Joe as he did so, and repeated the introduction he’d made earlier to Matt Aho.
Not surprisingly, this only increased the concern plainly stamped on the officer’s face.
“What Agent Gunther is trying to find out,” Giordi explained, seeking the exact line on the opened page, “is the whereabouts of a Taser cartridge our records say was issued to you.”
Giordi tapped on the entry with his fingertip. Palmiter bent at the waist hesitantly, as if expecting the entire binder to come leaping for his throat.
“Yes, sir,” he said without meaning or understanding.
Giordi looked at him quizzically. “So, have you used or lost a Taser cartridge?”
Palmiter straightened, stung by the suggestion. “No, sir. I’ve never even fired one except in training.”
His boss studied Palmiter’s duty belt. “How many cartridges do you carry?”
“Two. I’m supposed to have three—one in place and two backups—but they only issued me two.”
“When was this?” Joe asked.
The young officer pointed at the open page. “Then—when I was working at the airport. That’s when I got Taser certified. I was issued the Taser and the holster.” He tapped the weapon on his belt. “You can see where it’s got places for two backup cartridges, but only one of them’s full.” He undid the Velcro flap on one of the compartments to reveal its emptiness. “I figured they’d run short or something,” he continued. “And, to be honest, since there’s not much action at the airport, I didn’t see bothering them for extras.”
He looked worriedly at his chief. “I hope I didn’t screw up. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
“Have you been down to the southern half of the state anytime recently?” Joe asked him.
“No, sir. I don’t know anybody down there.”
Giordi considered the binder thoughtfully for a moment before nodding in Palmiter’s direction. “Okay, Brian. Give me your Taser and get issued a new one. I want to hang on to yours for a while.”
The chief waited until the door had closed behind his now very nervous officer. He hefted the plastic gun in his hand. “I’ll have someone run the computer memory in this thing—find out when it was fired last. What do you think?” he asked Joe.
Joe made a face. “On paper,” he answered, “either Palmiter is lying or Aho screwed up. But my gut tells me it’s neither. Something else must’ve happened.”
Tim pushed out his lips thoughtfully before murmuring, “Once you get me some more information about all this, I’m still going to put them both through polygraphs, just to be sure. What’ve you found out about your John Doe?” he then asked. “And do you know for sure a Taser was even used on him? They do leave holes.”
“The ME has the body,” Joe answered, crossing the room and considering the view of the park outside. “She told us there were no outward signs of trauma. We don’t even know the cause of death yet, much less anything about the guy. Complete mystery. I’m seeing Hillstrom next, since I’m in town, just to kick the tires personally.”
He turned to face his old friend. “Tell me about Aho and Palmiter.”
Giordi raised his eyebrows. “Fair question, if a little painful. I’m not too crazy about all the possibilities here.”
Joe held up his hand. “It’s just a question.”
“Aho, I’ve had with me for years. He’s solid, dependable, never messed up before. He worked as a street cop before becoming the supply officer, also for this department. I know his family, and everything seems stable there, too. Palmiter, I don’t know quite as well. The kid’s only twenty-one and he hasn’t been with us long. So far, so good, though. He gets good ratings from