The Quickie - v4 by James Patterson

Author:James Patterson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2010-07-21T12:26:05+00:00

Chapter 61

I WAS COMING OUT of Keane’s office when my partner called me on my cell phone.

“Have the rodents left the building?” Mike wanted to know.

“The two-footed ones at least,” I said.

“Come meet me for an early lunch at the Piper’s,” Mike said. “My treat.”

It took me twenty minutes or so to drive to the Piper’s Kilt on 231st Street in Kingsbridge. The Bronx cop and district attorney hangout was much more bar than grill, but the burgers were outrageous. Ten thirty being on the early side, the restaurant part of the establishment was empty — except for my partner tucked away in the farthest corner booth.

After I sat, I clicked my waiting Diet Coke to my partner’s Heineken.

“How’s the face?” Mike said.

“Flesh wound, like you said, amigo,” I said with a shrug. “No hearing loss either. And as a bonus, I get to wear this attractive bandage.”

Mike smiled.

“What do you think IAB will say on their report?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I was too busy screwing with them to get any kind of realistic gauge. Worst case, I’ll probably get a reprimand for not following proper procedure with the ESU. I can’t see the commissioner coming down too hard on us, considering how expedient we were in clearing this mess up for him.”

“That’s true,” Mike said. “I forgot about that.”

The waitress delivered our cheeseburgers, the buns soaked with grease.

“Bacon, too?” I said, smiling at my plate. “Mike, you shouldn’t have.”

“Hey, for you, partner,” Mike said, lifting his bottle, “I go that extra mile.”

“I want to thank you, Mike,” I said after a few chomps of burger heaven. I don’t know if it was my pregnancy or what, but I was suddenly famished. I hadn’t tasted food this intensely since I’d quit smoking eight months ago.

“I don’t remember if I did or not,” I said as I popped an escaping morsel of bacon into my mouth. “Thanks for saving me out there.”

“Please,” Mike said, tipping his bottle in my direction. “I watch your back, you watch mine. As far as I’m concerned, the police department consists of me and you. We’re like that commercial for Vegas. What happens here stays here. Which reminds me.”

Mike put down his beer and lifted up some papers from the seat beside him.

Even in the dim bar light, I could see they were print-outs. The burger I was chewing seemed to transform itself instantly into ketchup-flavored matchsticks as I spotted the rows and columns of numbers.

“I found this in the fax machine yesterday,” Mike said. “Phone company sent over a second copy of Scott’s Local Usage Details for some reason. How do you like that? It looks just like the one that you put on my desk, except this copy has your phone number all over it.”

Across the scarred table, Mike drank in his beer, and my complete astonishment.

“It’s time to talk to me, partner,” he said. “It’s time to unburden your soul to Father Mike.”

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