Blind Moon Alley by John Florio

Author:John Florio
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Prometheus Books
Published: 2014-07-24T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 10

Reeger didn’t cart us to our local stationhouse; I guess he figured we’d greased too many local cops to stay there for long. He brought us out to his district by the docks so his fellow bulls can book us.

The minute we got here it hit me that all of these precincts share a certain smell—a combination of perspiration, dust, and greed—and this one has got it in spades. I’m steeping in it. My shirt is plastered to the bottom of my sweaty spine, my oxfords are sticking to the floor, and my lungs are filled with that rank stationhouse air. No wonder cops spend so much time at speakeasies. They’ve got to wash these places off their souls.

There are eight bulls manning desks in the main room; not one appears to be in any kind of hurry. I’m waiting for the old guy—his badge reads Thorndyke—to get off the phone and finish my paperwork. Behind him, two young bulls are leaning back in their desk chairs eating cheesesteaks; the others are booking barflies like me. The scene will be the same later tonight, except a wave of hookers will have replaced us rumrunners.

I haven’t seen my friends from the Ink Well. By the time Reeger dragged me in here, they had already been arrested and fingerprinted. I can hear them calling out from the holding pen along with other prisoners—their pleas come from the hallway in the far corner of the room. They’re asking for food, water, and toilet paper. The clearest voice belongs to Johalis—it blends in about as smoothly as a baritone in a children’s choir. He’s asking for a shot of whiskey and I’m not so sure he’s joking. It wouldn’t matter if he were asking for eternal youth—not a single bull is listening. Except Thorndyke. He’s acting like he’s a tough guy, but he looks up from his typewriter every time a woman’s voice calls out from that holding pen. There’s a human being hiding under that uniform. Trust me—nobody can read a cop like a criminal.

I’m itching to get in that cell to explain things to Angela, not to mention the new Mr. and Mrs. Wilson, who broke no law other than celebrating their future. But now Thorndyke is on the phone, chatting with his wife, wondering what they’ll cook for their granddaughter tonight. I suppose the good news is that I’m no longer dealing with Reeger. The Sarge handcuffed me to a hot water pipe outside the bathroom and then left me to chase after a hijacker at the Race Street Pier. I thought I’d be stuck there all night, tied to that red-hot piece of metal, but the desk sergeant passed me on to Thorndyke. Considering how the evening started, waiting for a cop to finish his grocery list is a step up.

Thorndyke hangs up the phone, takes off his wireframe eyeglasses, and dries the sweat off his ears with a handkerchief. Then he puts the specs back on, reaches into his bottom drawer, and pulls out two sheets of fresh carbon paper.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.