10-33 Assist PC (Mike O'Shea Crime Fiction) by Desmond P. Ryan

Author:Desmond P. Ryan [Ryan, Desmond P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-09-14T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Sunday, October 30th, 2005 - 11:00 p.m.

Julia and Hoagie were just getting settled in the conference room when Mike and Sal arrived. Robby was still in his office making an eleventh-hour phone call to try to convince his boss that they were very close to wrapping up this now over-budget project and needed just a little more money.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I am beat,” Hoagie moaned, rubbing the stubble on his usually clean-shaved face.

“That’s what you get for having four kids back to back,” Sal retorted. Still pissed off with Mike, he glared at his partner as he flopped down in a chair across the table from Hoagie.

“I should be so lucky,” Julia sighed, holding out a package of breath mints she had just pulled from her purse as she sat down beside her partner. “Anyone?”

Everyone shook their head. Just then, Robby came in and took his place at the head of the table.

“Okay, guys. Let’s pull it together,” Robby said, pen in hand and a pad of foolscap in front of him. “Mike, let’s start with you since you seem to be the only one wanting to do any work tonight. What have you got?”

“Guy in the mall on the Chelsea Hendricks case is named Theodore LeBaron,” Mike began, running his hand back through his hair towards a tension knot that was forming in his neck. “He’s in custody now at the West for a major fraud bust—”

“Since when do we ever keep anyone in custody for fraud?” Julia interrupted, placing the mints back in her purse and pulling out her compact and lipstick. “And how do we suddenly know this piece of information?” She flipped open the compact and began touching up her lipstick.

“Doesn’t matter,” Mike huffed, causing Julia to look over the tiny mirror that she had been focusing on to glance at Mike. She raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Sorry. Long night,” he apologized.

“For all of us, muffin,” Sal added, rolling his eyes at his partner.

“People?” Robby looked over at Sal, and then at Julia, trying to nip in the bud whatever tensions might be brewing. “Carry on, Mike.”

“Sorry, boss,” Mike back-pedalled. “Got a pile of photos of LeBaron off Chelsea Hendricks’s cell phone—”

“Hold on. I thought we didn’t have her phone,” Hoagie said, leaning in, shaking his head in an effort to keep himself from dozing off.

“We didn’t. Brenda just gave it to me this afternoon.”

“Interesting,” Robby said with a smile. “I don’t want to know how, do I?”

“No. In any event, LeBaron is our lure.”

“On that case,” Sal jumped in.

“Yes, on that case.” Mike shot his partner a fierce look. “But that’s a start.”

“Great work, Mike,” Robby nodded. “And Sal.”

“Always fucking ‘and Sal.’ Well, Sally-boy has some intel for everyone tonight, too,” Sal gloated.

“With a nickname like that, you wonder why we don’t call on you first?” Hoagie chuckled.

“I like it. Kind of hip. Suits you, Sal,” Julia smiled. “Cute. Very cute.”

“Thank you, Julia. See, Mike?” Sal said with a smirk. “Not everyone thinks I’m fat.

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