Chapter 68: Recognition and Reluctance
Theodore and Bernie became completely famous.
Their names were known throughout the city, their reputation spreading outward like ripples on water. Neighbouring counties had caught wind that Felton now boasted a pair of divine detectives.
Their story grew more embellished with each retelling, and inexplicably, the Felton Star News found itself climbing the ladder of success, even breaking into the ranks of upper-tier newspapers.
Subscribers from other districts had begun ordering their paper, a development that would have seemed impossible just months ago.
......
The kidnapping case had reached its beautiful conclusion, but another case remained unfinished.
Bernie came to work as usual the next day, surprising many of his colleagues who had expected him to take time off. After graciously thanking each person and enduring another wave of concerned inquiries, he rejoined Theodore to tackle their ongoing work.
Their investigation into the Cynthia husband murder case had been interrupted by the kidnapping, but that same case had also provided them with crucial new clues. They prepared to interrogate Cynthia for the third time.
This session was mainly for reviewing and organising her previous statements, ensuring every detail was documented correctly. Before the interrogation ended, Cynthia made a quiet plea, begging them to let her see Donald Moore.
This time, Theodore didn't refuse.
After Cynthia was escorted away, Bernie settled down to organise the statements. Facing a full page of revisions and corrections, he rubbed his temples at the thought of having to recopy everything by hand.
One day later, Cynthia was transferred to the county prison for temporary detention. She would be charged with second-degree murder, but considering the circumstances she had faced and the fact that the deceased, David Moore, had been actively seeking his own death, the prosecutor planned to plead for leniency with the judge.
Theodore and Bernie participated in the escort detail.
During the drive, Bernie shared that Little Sullivan had awakened yesterday afternoon. The boy had cried for a while, then eaten his favourite pie that Mrs. Sullivan had baked especially for him. At first, he'd been timid, silent, and clingy, but the toys his colleagues had brought soon captured his attention, and he'd played with surprising abandon.
He seemed remarkably normal, all things considered.
Theodore mulled this over and decided to visit the boy personally this weekend.
The escort proceeded without incident.
After getting off work, Theodore hesitated by the phone before finally placing a call to D.C. Mrs. Gandhi answered, her familiar voice bringing back memories of the house on Q Street.
Theodore inquired about Samuel's case. After waiting several minutes, he received the disappointing reply: no progress had been made whatsoever. Samuel seemed to have vanished into thin air, leaving the FBI agents to retrace his planned itinerary in hopes of uncovering new leads.
Theodore listened in silence, thinking grimly that he hoped when he eventually joined the FBI and took over this case, he wouldn't still be working with nothing but those same two planned route itineraries. Then he remembered with a sinking feeling that he would likely be sent to Vietnam first, to run missions and dodge bullets in the jungle.
......
Apartment at 4132 Q Street, Washington, D.C.
Eight o'clock in the evening.
Hoover sat squarely at his dining table, dressed in black pyjamas. He carefully adjusted his reading glasses and began working through a stack of reports from Texas, making occasional sounds that betrayed his reactions.
Sometimes he would emit a satisfied "hmm," clearly pleased with what he was reading. Other times, he would frown and let out a dismissive grunt, expressing his disdain for sloppy work.
Tolson, the Deputy Chief, sat across from him, flipping through a magazine. Each time Hoover made a sound, Tolson would glance up, reading his partner's mood with practised ease.
"Take a look at this," Hoover said, pushing a completed report across the table.
The document contained a detailed transcript of Theodore and Bernie's investigation into the prostitute case, along with comprehensive press coverage from that period.
Tolson set down his magazine and picked up the report.
Hoover moved on to the second file, a thorough documentation of the oil field case. Then came the third and final report: the Teddy Santos murder case.
He had read the previous cases quickly, but with this last one, his pace slowed considerably. Tolson had finished the second report and leaned over to read the third alongside him.
Their points of focus differed subtly but significantly.
Hoover concentrated on the political machinations revealed behind the case. He found himself grudgingly admiring Theodore's ability to emerge unscathed while simultaneously criticising his nephew's apparent lack of ambition.
He wanted to discuss intervention strategies with Tolson desperately, but they had a strict agreement: no work talk after nine o'clock at home.
Hoover smacked his lips, feeling distinctly unsatisfied by this constraint.
Tolson, meanwhile, expressed genuine admiration for Theodore's investigative talent, particularly his uncanny ability to make the right choices at every critical juncture. If it had happened once, it might be luck. But three or four times?
That suggested something more.
Tolson held the report, turning it over in his hands, unable to put it down. He found himself wanting to call Theodore back to Washington and recruit him directly into the Bureau.
He glanced at Hoover, hesitation written across his features. When Theodore had run away from home, Hoover had been furious, nearly sending agents to drag him back. The Director had viewed it as nothing short of betrayal.
After considerable internal debate, Tolson decided to observe a while longer.
Facing Tolson's continued praise, Hoover twitched the corners of his mouth, struggling to maintain his patriarchal seriousness. Internally, though, he found himself wondering.
'Is this really the same Theodore Dickson Hoover who was once so uneducated and incompetent?'
"Alright, alright, stop singing his praises," Hoover waved dismissively, working hard to maintain his stern demeanour. "It's not even certain he solved these cases himself."
Hoover ended the discussion by announcing it was time for bed.
During his lunch break the next day, Hoover made sure Tolson was occupied elsewhere before quietly requesting several similar case files for his own private review.
......
Theodore remained blissfully unaware that Hoover, far away in D.C., was quietly monitoring his every move.
He was currently heading to the county prison with Bernie, joined by Jacob, who had asked to ride along. Jacob was visiting Carlos Mendoza; Theodore and Bernie were escorting Johnson Lawson and his two accomplices.
The kidnapping case had been closed under the watchful eyes of the entire city, and the three kidnappers were being transferred to prison for temporary detention while awaiting trial.
The three men displayed vastly different attitudes toward their fate.
Paul Anderson and the other accomplice spent the journey begging for mercy, their terror of the prison system's systematic brutality having reached fever pitch. Their pleas fell on deaf ears.
Johnson, however, directed his fury specifically at Bernie. He cursed continuously, slammed against the car door, lunged at the detective whenever possible, and made exaggerated gestures as if drawing and firing an imaginary gun.
Bernie simply pushed him back each time with calm efficiency, showing no excessive reaction to the theatrics.
Johnson's behaviour prompted Jacob, who was essentially hitching a ride, to scoff loudly. "If you're really that scared," Jacob suggested with mock helpfulness.
"I could arrange for you to be assigned to the Mexican section. Nobody would bother you there, your compatriots would take real good care of you."
He gestured toward the stone-faced Bernie and impassive Theodore. "Look, I'm not even with these two. They don't particularly like me either."
His words immediately redirected Johnson's rage, and for the remainder of the journey, the kidnapper split his time between cursing at Bernie and hurling invectives at Jacob.
Upon reaching the prison, Jacob waved a casual goodbye to Theodore and Bernie before heading off to visit his compatriot, Carlos Mendoza. He made this pilgrimage almost weekly, having specifically arranged for another Mexican inmate to watch over Carlos, just to ensure the other prisoners didn't get too enthusiastic and accidentally kill his former partner.
The prison guards checked their credentials and escorted the three kidnappers toward what should have been the black section of the facility. However, the afternoon sun was exceptionally bright, and in the harsh glare, the guards mistakenly assigned them to the wrong cellblock entirely.
The prisoner transfer was completed quickly, but Theodore and Bernie didn't leave immediately; they had to wait for Jacob to finish his visit so they could all return together.
Bernie led Theodore to the Warden's office for a courtesy call.
The Warden's office was surprisingly luxurious, and the man himself proved remarkably enthusiastic in his greeting. Bernie clearly knew him well; their relationship appeared cordial and mutually beneficial.
The Warden inquired thoughtfully about Little Sullivan's condition and presented Bernie with a large bag of handmade toys, clearly crafted by inmates during their workshop hours.
Bernie accepted the gift with genuine gratitude.
The two detectives sat in the comfortable office for nearly an hour before Jacob finally emerged, ready for the return trip to Felton.
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