(1939-09-28) Good Cops, Bad Cops
Details for Good Cops, Bad Cops
Summary: Elijah entreats Solomon on behalf of a couple of loose cannons.
Date: 28 September, 1939
Location: Department of Magical Law Enforcement
Related: Cop Out

"Tibbs! I want that report on my desk yesterday." The penetrating baritone of Deputy Commissioner Solomon Shacklebolt is never something a Hit Wizard wants to hear directed at oneself in displeasure. The tall, severe man looms in the doorway of his office for a moment, his stern gaze on Inspector Tibbs. Only when Tibbs confirms and looks away does Solomon about-face and head back into his office, leaving the door open.

Seeings this as an opportunity, Elijah deftly slips into the open door, walking stick in hand. He twirls it casually as he meanders about the room, taking a moment to get the lay of the land before he remarks, "New to the collection?" He'll pull a book from Solomon's bookshelf entitled The Discerning Eye: A Guide to Uncovering What's Hidden. He'll flip through the first couple of pages and tuck it randomly back into the bookcase, looking over his shoulder at Shacklebolt.

Solomon sighs softly, murmuring loudly, "No, I've brought it from home. What is it, Lovegood?" The Deputy Inspector may not be quite as strict and by-the-book as Commissioner Ogden, but neither is he known for small talk.

"Just merely stopping by to see an old friend, Shacklebolt," Elijah remarks, hanging his walking stick over the back of a chair and leaning against it, "…in an attempt to see if that old friend might relieve Denny Orwell's suspension."

Shacklebolt's intense eyes narrow slightly at Elijah's casual address. "That's 'Deputy Commissioner', and the answer is no. Orwell's future will be decided at his hearing."

"I'm sure it is," Elijahs remarks, moving to have a seat in the chair, crossing one leg over the other and looking up at the man, "It's because of who the boy's family is, isn't it?"

Solomon scoffs with a smirk, shaking his head. "I'm sure Orwell thinks so. But I'm surprised at you, Lovegood. Whatever else you are, you're not stupid. I know I don't need to explain to you that the incident with the Black boy was merely the icing on the cake. Constable Orwell has a long history of shaming his badge. This suspension is long overdue."

"Well…I'm sure that's what you're telling yourself," Elijah says, hands patting the arms of the chair and standing, "I assaulted Brad Moody in the forest. Nearly killed the man. And what? One week off without pay?" Elijah raises his eyebrows, looking to Solomon, "Denny slaps a prat around and he ends up crucified for it." Lovegood slips his hands into his pockets and says, "I need Orwell, Deputy Commissioner."

Solomon rises to his feet as well, towering over Elijah and leveling a hard gaze at him. "Perhaps you're not as smart as I thought, Lovegood. You don't listen well. So open your ears and listen this. You may be two knuts short of a sickle, but you're a damn fine detective, and you've closed more cases than half this department can shake a stick at. Your incident with Moody was a mistake, but not a career-ending mistake. But Orwell? He's a thug. He uses his badge as a shield to get away with feeding his lust for violence and graft. Whatever it is you have in mind, you don't need Orwell. He'll just sink you with him."

"I'm smart enough to know that Orwell's a good man. He's just a good man with a short fuse. Hand over his leash and I can reign him in. If he causes any problems, I'll take care of them," Elijah assures, resting a few fingertips on Shacklebolt's desk. "And I need a thug."

Solomon shakes his head. "No. Even if he's exonerated in the hearing, I won't let him ruin your career. I don't know how he's blinded you, but he isn't what you think he is. Let it go, Inspector. Orwell made his own bed. Don't you lie in it."

Elijah rubs at the bridge of his nose and says, "A slew of cases have recently come across my desk involving counterfeit artifacts and the smuggling of illegal potions. Once every few months, that's fine. But there are three documented cases of faulty, poorly-duplicated artifacts actively hurting our fellow wizards in the past week." Elijah stands up straight, still no match for Solomon's towering physique, and says, "This is no freak occurance, and it needs to nipped in the bud."

"Then nip it," Solomon says sharply. "You are more than capable of handling a case like this without trying to hold back a wild dog."

"I can't simply 'nip it' by myself, Solomon," Elijah says, looking at the man incredulously before continuing, "They are using Muggle trade routes to move these things around London. If something goes wrong, these artifacts could end up in Muggle hands and I don't even want to think of the repercussions that a over-active warming blanket could have in Muggle Society. I need someone with close ties to the London side of things." Elijah runs a hand over his waistcoat, straightening a few wayward wrinkles before saying, "At least allow me to bring him on as a consultant. I'll pay him out of my own pocket, if I have to."

Shacklebolt's hidden temper begins to show as his fingers curl into a fist against the desk, his knuckles popping audibly. "Keep Orwell the hell out of it. That's an order. The man is facing expulsion from the department, and possibly criminal charges. Do you have any idea the kind of storm we'd face if we knowingly allowed him to be part of an investigation? Not on my watch."

"Fine, Deputy Commissioner," Elijah responds, coolly as he plucks a timepiece from his vest pocket and eyes it for a moment, "As for now, I'm asking for your permission to assemble a task force to deal with this smuggling operation that is sure to no doubt become a bane to us." Elijah stuffs the time-piece back into his pocket and says, "I'm bringing Adamantus back in. It's up to you to decide whether or not it is on a full-time or part-time basis."

"Gideon?" Solomon's incredulity was already piqued, but this? "Was that your plan? Ask for something you know I'd never approve, so that bringing Gideon back in would look far better by comparison?"

"Seems you've seen right through me, Deputy Commissioner," Elijah remarks, tilting his head to Solomon, "He's familiar with organized crime and he will prove to be an invaluable asset to me." Seems Elijah has a soft-spot these days for good men with short fuses.

Solomon sighs, rubbing a hand over his bald head. "Gideon won't be my call, Inspector. Ogden would have my head if I didn't consult him, first. That is, if I even bring it to him. I'll think about it."

"Very well," Elijah says with a smile, offering a hand for Solomon to shake, offering, "I do relish our conversations, Deputy Commissioner, but I must be leaving, now. There is justice to be served, after all."

Solomon eyes Elijah's hand, but he does relent and gives the man a handshake. "Mmmhm. Dismissed," is all he has to say as he retakes his seat, smoothing down his tie.

Elijah offers Solomon a wink and spins on his heel, plucking up his walking cane and moving towards the door, "Deep breathing exercises would do you good, I think."

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