Video Cowboys by Yolanda Joe

Author:Yolanda Joe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2005-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

14

“Bill said we’d get you sooner or later.”

Captain Daniel Carey was doing the talking. Doug advised me earlier that he was Wild Bill Whelk’s right-hand man on the force. Carey was throwing off MUCH ATTITUDE. And why not? He had the upper hand. We were at police headquarters in District A, just half a mile away from the bank and the hostage situation. I had turned myself in and the cops had me sitting in an interrogation room.

Captain Carey was an average guy in build and features. He was an old-school Irish cop. He wore a uniform. Starched.

Carey played with his thick mustache and growled, “You look awful stupid sitting here. And why? ’Cause you’re hardheaded, that’s why. This is no place for you.”

Captain Carey wasn’t lying. The interrogation room smelled like one of my man Doug’s sweatshirts after a workout. That’s Funk with a capital K. The walls were so dirty I wasn’t sure if the original color was blue or gray. On the right side of the room, there were a couple of holes in the wall. One was perfectly round like somebody’s head; hat size extra large y’all. The other was a footprint: spike-heel pumps, size off the rack.

I was sitting facing a glass, which you know was a two-way dealio so NO TELLING who was sitting back there getting their jollies off seeing a diva TV reporter slumming behind bars.

Windows? If that’s what you wanna call them. There were two. They were about as clear as ice blocks and shoved all crooked into the wall with bars covering them. The floor was linoleum, swarthy as mud, tattered on the corners or missing altogether in some spots. So I just glared at Captain Carey, halfway hot because I didn’t cotton to being called stupid.

“Whataya gaping at?” he asked.

“Believe it or not, you’re the best-looking thing in the room— which ain’t saying much.”

“You gotta smart mouth, Ms. Barnett, but can you back it up?”

“You didn’t catch me. I turned myself in, remember?”

“Doesn’t matter HOW you got reeled in lady, Chicago P.D. baited the hook.”

“Let’s skip the games. How are the hostages?”

Captain Carey pulled up a chair and propped his leg up in it. “They’re all still okay. We tossed a note tied to a weight up against the door. He had the pregnant woman stick her head out, grab it, and take it inside.”

“What did the note say?”

“We told him that we would trade him a hostage for food. Send out a hostage, tell us what he wants to eat, and we’ll send it in.”

“Well whose idea was that?”

“Bill’s.”

I rolled my eyes. “So what happened?”

“Nothing yet. He’s still waiting to see that tape he sent out aired on TV.”

“The one for me? Marked urgent?”

“That’s the one.”

“But that’s our deal, captain. You gotta play it. We’re communicating with each other back and forth via those tapes. What’s on it?”

“Gibberish.”

“Show it to me.”

“When skis go on sale in hell.” Captain Carey growled, “Do I look like I pee sitting down?”

“No,” I snapped.

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