Alone With the Dead: A Joe Keough Mystery by Robert J. Randisi

Author:Robert J. Randisi [Randisi, Robert J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Espionage, Fiction, Mystery & Detective, Police Procedural, Suspense, Thriller
ISBN: 9781935797586
Google: 7Vv2oAEACAAJ
Publisher: Perfect Crime Books
Published: 2014-05-15T00:00:00+00:00

***

It took Keough forty minutes to drive from Queens, over the Fifty-ninth Street Bridge to Manhattan, and then downtown to West Thirty-third and Eighth. The bar was across the street from Madison Square Garden. It was after 6:30 when he arrived, and some parking spots had opened up nearby. The work day was done and this busy section of Manhattan-on the edge of the Garment District-was winding down to a halt. Maybe that was why Dolan liked it.

He entered the place and realized that he didn't know what Arthur Dolan looked like. He suspected, however, from the way the man talked that he'd probably take his burger and beer right at the bar. At the moment, there was a man in one seat, working on a hamburger, and a woman a bit farther down who seemed to be working on the man.

"… good looking man shouldn't be eatin' alone," she was saying as Keough entered. She looked to be in her forties, a professional bar bimbo looking for an early pickup.

"For the last time, lady," Dolan said, "I'm not interested."

"Whataya, gay or somethin'? Come on, I'll show you how it feels to be with a woman."

The man turned and said something to the woman that Keough didn't hear, then showed her his palm.

"Jesus," she said, sliding off her seat fast. She headed for the door, and as she passed Keough, she was muttering something about "… if they're not gay, they're cops."

Keough went over and sat down on a stool next to the man.

"Sergeant Dolan?"

"You Keough?" Dolan asked.

"That's right."

"Drop the Sergeant stuff, okay? I eat here a lot and nobody knows I'm a cop."

"Have it your way."

"You want something to eat?"

Keough realized how hungry he was and nodded.

"What you're having looks good."

"Hal, bring my friend a bacon burger and a Watney's."

Keough had not ever had Watney's before, but he was willing to try it.

Dolan was in his late thirties, a red-faced Irishman with the road-map face of a drinker, brown hair, green eyes, and a mouth that turned up at the ends. He had the face of a man who should be smiling, but Keough doubted he smiled much. Maybe at one time he had, but not much anymore.

"Okay, so you're here," Dolan said. "What's this all about?"

"I want to talk to you about Lieutenant Slovecky."

Dolan frowned. "You said on the phone you wanted to talk about Len Swann's murder?"

"I do, I do, but I'd like to start with Slovecky."

"Why should I talk to you about my boss-our boss, since starting tomorrow you're part of the squad. Are you a clerical?"

"No, why?"

"That's what Slovecky said he wanted, a clerical to replace Swann."

"Well, I'm not a clerical. Did Slovecky ask for me specifically, Sarge?"

Dolan studied Keough, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to answer the question.

"As a matter of fact, he did."

"Now why would he do that?"

"I don't know; maybe you'd like to tell me. Tell me something, anyway."

"Okay," Keough said, "but I'd rather do some asking before I do any telling.

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