Strip Search by Rex Burns

Author:Rex Burns [Burns, Rex]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4532-4793-8
Publisher: MysteriousPress.com / Open Road
Published: 2012-03-24T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 10

BY THE TIME the shift ended, Wager was wincing when an apartment had neither bell nor knocker. He could buzz from the lobby and identify himself so they’d open the security door; but once in the building and going down the long halls a door at a time, he had to use his knuckles, and after four hours of it they were sore. All to no profit—so far no one in the surrounding apartment towers had seen or heard anything when Doc’s body was tossed on the trash heap. When they returned to Homicide, Max scribbled a note for the oncoming shift, telling them where he and Wager had quit canvassing. Stretching mightily so that his fingers brushed the ceiling of the office, he asked casually what Wager had planned for his Saturday evening.

“A night on the town.”

“Look, Gabe, what you’re doing … It’s tough enough when somebody goes under legitimately—when they have the proper backup and authorization. …”

“I know.”

“Yeah, well, just make sure you’re covered, okay? And I’m not talking about the bad guys. More than one career’s been flushed because somebody went out on a limb by himself.” He led the way to the elevator and pushed the button for the underground parking garage. “Have you thought about telling Doyle what you’re doing?”

He had, and decided against it. “I’m just drinking a few beers and talking to some people. On my own time.” And he didn’t want to take the chance that Doyle, with an administrator’s reflexive No, would tell him that the Homicide Division was a team, and that, by God, cases would be dealt with according to the operations manual or he—Detective Sergeant Wager—could get his butt out of his—Chief Bartholomew Doyle’s—Homicide section and into the Traffic Division.

The garage doors opened to the cool odor of stale automobile exhaust and a scattering of concrete pillars holding up the gloom between distant lights. The two men paused for a moment, groping for something that would not let the shift end on an argument.

“Munn thinks he spotted Pepe the Pistol again.”

“Where?”

“Over in the projects near his girlfriend’s house. The word is she’s knocked up and that’s why he’s still around.”

“His buddies are dead but chivalry’s not, is that it?”

“Just young love, I guess.” Max’s large shoe scraped the gritty concrete floor. “If you need help, Gabe, will you give me a call? Don’t try and do it all by yourself, okay?”

“Sure.”

“I mean it, partner.”

“Right—will do.”

He watched the big man thread his way between the silent cars, and a few moments later heard the slam of a door. Max was all right—Max was his partner. But he had a wife and kids to worry about. He was the kind of guy who had a lot more fear for them than he had for himself, and so sometimes he wouldn’t take chances that he thought might hurt them. Not the physical threats and dangers—those came with the job, and Max, like every other cop and most of their families, accepted those chances.

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