Boston Noir by Dennis Lehane (Ed)

Author:Dennis Lehane (Ed)
Format: mobi
Tags: Crime & mystery, Anthologies (multiple authors), Crime, American fiction - Massachusetts - Boston, Crime & Thriller, Mystery & Detective - Short Stories, Mystery fiction, Mystery, Detective, Detective and mystery stories, Noir fiction, American, Fiction, Short stories, Mystery & Detective - General, Anthologies, Mystery & Detective, American Mystery & Suspense Fiction, Fiction - Mystery, Boston (Mass.), General, Suspense
ISBN: 9781933354910
Publisher: Akashic Books
Published: 2009-11-01T04:00:00+00:00

About a half hour later, I was at the local district headquarters of the Boston Police Department, where I found Sergeant Francis Xavier O'Connor sitting behind a chest-high wooden desk, passing on whatever was considered justice in this part of town. There in the lobby area, the tile floor yellow and stained, two women in bright red lipstick, hands cuffed together, shared a cigarette on a wooden bench. O'Connor had a folded over copy of the Boston American in his hands, his face red and flush, and he glanced up at me as I approached the desk.

"Ah, Beantown's biggest dick," he said over half-glasses.

"Nice to see you too, sergeant. Thought you'd be spending some time up at your vacation spot on Conway Lake."

"Bah, the hell with you," O'Connor said. "What kind of trash are you lookin' for tonight?"

I leaned up against the desk, my wrists on the wooden edge. "What I'm looking for is right in front of me."

"Eh?"

"Quick question," I said. "Got a visit tonight from a young lady, mid-twenties, said she was from Seattle, looking for some help. She told me she came here, talked to you, and somehow my name came up. Why's that?"

He grinned, bounced the edge of the folded newspaper against his chin. "Ah, I remember that little flower. Came sauntering in, sob story in one hand, a Greyhound bus ticket in the other, and she told me what kind of man she was lookin' for, and what the hell? I gave her your name and address. You should be grateful."

"More curious than grateful. Come on, Francis, answer the question. Why me?"

He leaned over, close enough so I could smell old onions coming from his breath. "Figure it out. Young gal had some spending money, spent it for some info...a name. And you know what? Her story sounded screwy enough that it might fuck over whoever decided to take her on as a client, and your name was first, second, and third on my list. Any more questions, dick?"

I stepped away from the desk. "Yeah. Your dad's nose still look like a lumpy potato after my dad finished him off?"

His face grew even more red. "Asshole, get out of my station."

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