They lolled on the sofa listening to Morphine. Mo thought the sultry sounds just right as she breathed in and let go a deep exhalation; her body like putty in his hands. Zack held her head against his stomach. His fingers never got enough of the feel of her silky hair. He was breathless and sated as he had never been.
“Zack, you’re Dad was a cop too? Right?” She nestled.
“Mmmhmm.” He didn’t elaborate.
“Well, you never talk about your family. Your Dad. Or Mom for that matter. I know they passed away. You just never…”
“Not much to say. How ‘bout I order in. You like Greek? You want to go out later?”
Mo knew the topic was closed. But her curiosity lingered. Let him put it out there on his own. “Greek’s good. I wouldn’t mind staying in and relaxing if that suits you. So you still want to go on that tour? I want to see everything. I want to go down in that coal shaft at the… the…”
“Museum of Science and Industry. Of course I want to go. We haven’t gotten to the Planetarium yet either. He swept a hand along her long, defined stomach then nudged her up a bit to reach for the phone. “Tomorrow, I’m cooking dinner. You can take that as a threat or a promise.”
“So Gram clocked the guy right between the eyes. That ended that job but I was so proud of her. She protected me. Stood up for me. We wound up living in her VW bus for six months until she got work with a carnival. I did my school work by lantern light. But I didn’t care. She was hard on me but I knew she loved me. This is good. You seem to know where to get all the good food.”
“I like to eat.” Zack forked in a mouthful.
“Don’t I know it,” Mo looked up at him with a mischievous smile.
“You have a dirty mind, Ms. Whitman. How’d I get so lucky? Your grandmother sounds like hell of a woman. Dirty bastard should have been arrested. I’m glad he didn’t have a chance to…”
“He didn’t.” Mo toed his ankle with a sly look. “She was hell of a woman. What’s for dessert?”
Curtis Lyons was pissed. He had absolutely refused to say a word. He had held out for more than three days and still he sat. Bull should have gotten him out by now to his way of thinking. He couldn’t co-operate with that namby pamby public defender. What’s a hold up compared to cop killing. They find out who he is and he’ll be lucky to make it till morning. Why didn’t Bull send in a real lawyer? He’s the one with the most to lose and by god if he doesn’t get him out they’re all going to need earplugs when Brother C gets to singing. He might be the only inmate in the City of Chicago without his prints on file. They think they’ll ID him from prints the jokes on them. At least Bull had taken care of his file.
He’d never gone in for the armed robberies or other notoriously high apprehension crimes. He’d never taken money for a drug deal. He had been extremely careful, and lucky. Bull had taken care of his petty theft record back when Ray was just getting started. He could hold out a little longer. Until Bull got him the kind of lawyer who could get him the hell out of here! It didn’t occur to him that Bull would have to identify him to get him out. Or that Bull might be just fine with him taking the rap for Ray.
What had he been thinking? Shit, he wasn’t gonna shoot that girl. He was just trying to make sure he didn’t get shot. Mother that knocked him to the ground was a cop. Go figure, cop right outside the door. He still hurt like hell. Son bitch yanked his shoulder out. His back was killing him. All he’d wanted was some food and to get the hell outta town. The beach in Indiana, that’s where he should be. Not locked up because that mother Bull was too busy moving in on Rosalie to take care of business. Ray was a nasty mother, but he always took care of business.
Curtis heard a racket and from the loud oaths and clanging figured another stoned or drunk ass was gonna be tossed in a cell. Not with him he hoped.
“Shut up, Jamal.” He heard the guard say.
“Shit.” Couldn’t be but Curtis sat on the bunk with his head low. He recognized Jamal Smith’s voice. Drunk again. Probably had some smoke on ‘em. He dipped his head lower.
“Hey! Hey Curtis! Curtis. What the fuck, man! Yo, bro? What you doing? It’s me. Jamal. You high?” Jamal went on and on as the cop steered him to a cell. “What you doing, man? That’s my cousin. Curtis. What?”
“You know that man?” the guard stopped in front of Curtis’ cell.
“That’s Curtis. Yo, Curtis! Put me in with Curtis, man.”
“Sure. Curtis got a last name?” The guard Iooked at the man who was just about folded in on himself.
“He gotta last name? Hear that Curtis? He asks you gotta last name. Lyons. Rooaarr! Lyons. Ain’t that some shit? What chu doin’ in here, cuz?”
The phone was ringing and groggy, Zack reached out with some confusion. The ring of the phone was like an unwelcomed alarm clock. His mind raced out of dreams as he disentangled himself from Mo. Somehow they’d made it to the bed after a round on the living room carpet. Zack’s home cooked meal of grilled chicken and vegetables had been topped off with epic calorie burning sex. Half asleep they’d been and yet had found the energy to make mayhem of the sheets once they’d made it to bed. He rubbed his face and took the call. His eyes widened as he looked at Mo who didn’t stir.
“Wake up Burnham; they got Lyons down at Central. Al’s voice was deep and businesslike. “Lyon’s won’t talk but I’ve got intel says Bull’s meeting a plane in Joliet. Moving into the big time. I’ll be downstairs in thirty five. Leave the girl. She’s safest there.” Zack looked at the portable phone as if it were a statue come to life. With a look at Mo’s sprawled body, he climbed carefully out of bed.
“Yep, boosting losers just ain’t enough anymore.” Al steered the Crown Victoria a few cars behind a white Sprinter in the early morning rush. Interstate 55 got busier as they neared Chicago. It was almost at a standstill by the time they got off at a hundred and twenty seventh street; cutting east toward the industrial complexes on the lake. The stacks came into view as they got closer, spewing smoke into the air. Not one of the tourist attractions, Zack thought.
They had managed to keep an eye on Bull as he met the plane with the van and a driver neither of them knew. Watching from a distance with binoculars, they saw crates unloaded from the small plane into the van. Al reached into his car and handed Zack a video camera. “You probably know how to operate that thing. They must‘ve flashed badges at the bohunks,” grunted Al with derision.
“We’re gonna need back up,” Zack went to dial his phone.
“I’m not in the mood for friendly fire, Burnham; you know he’s got people on the payroll. Who can we trust? This is too big.”
“We can’t go in alone. I’m not supposed to be anywhere near this.” Just the same Zack snapped his phone shut.
“Who’s going to investigate who’s investigating you? How do we know Larson himself isn’t involved? Real handy you get shot receiving vast amounts of heroin. Handier still we both just disappear. Unhinged father, suspected crooked cop. Who’s gonna look too hard?”
“Look, I’m on suspension and you’re out of your jurisdiction. Any bust we’re able to make won’t stick. We’ve got to get someone else on this.” Zack looked at Al’s profile watching the big man drive with a bland expression on his face.
“I figured you’d be squeamish. Being a ‘by the book’ kinda guy. Just to ease your bleeding heart I’ve made some arrangements. Bet your one of those liberals who thinks drugs should be legalized. That we should just keep junkies in the hospital and feed ‘em whatever they want.”
“Yeah, I am one of those liberals. But you’re twisting it around to suit your biases. You don’t like big government but you sure always pressed for more money for law enforcement. Think about how much money is spent on drug interdiction when what we really need to do is treat addiction. That’s why I didn’t go into narcotics when I was asked. I was more interested in finding killers than arresting people for their weaknesses. Besides Al, look around. How many people here don’t want to escape? One
way or another.” They were heading through some of the most drug and crime infested areas on Chicago’s southeast side.
“There are better ways to escape. I not interested in the user. I’m interested in the people who use them and keep them trapped in addiction for profit. Users get caught in the net. I worked Narco. Before Homicide. But those users were as likely as not trying to bring more business in for their supplier. You know drug dealing is a pyramid business. Sure we want the tip but we have to destroy the foundation. We came from opposite sides of the tracks in the same blue collar hood. We didn’t resort to drugs ‘cause we didn’t live uptown.” Al still had his cop driving down. He made a quick turn, but hung back, with the Sprinter just in view.
“We never knew the kind of grinding poverty that breeds junkies like shit breeds flies. I say put the money into that. I haven’t seen where billions of dollars in drug interdiction has done much to destroy that foundation. Besides which, as you well know, there are two separate sets of rules for white and black users. So what are these arrangements?” Zack scrubbed his morning bristles with a yawn.
“I know a cop, someone we can trust. He’s retiring but it’s not official yet. He’s not far from the warehouse Ms. Villareal told me about. We’ll stop there and grab ‘im. It so happens he’s friendly with the DA. Married to the DA’s aunt. So he went over Larson’s head. Though my feeling is if we bust Bull, no one’s going to quibble about your suspension.”
“Maybe, but the courts may have a different idea about it.” Zack adjusted his seat. “If Lyons starts talking after this, we might just find out who killed Ray.”
“Yeah, college boy, you’re probably right. Gotta make it stick. Duke got a warrant for the warehouse based on Ms. Villareal’s information. First priority is making sure she or no one else gets hurt. She’s meeting Bull at the warehouse. I thought no but she suggested he might spook if she didn’t. So what’s with you and the girl?”
“How’d you know?” He looked at Al, puzzled. “You been spying?”
“Got to know who I can trust. Besides you made the papers.” Al snorted into a laugh. “Now you’re a hero. Suspended cop. Will that stick?”
“It’ll stick and cop killers don’t exactly have an edge with juries. But he’ll cop a plea. He has to talk sometime.” Zack felt a serious need for a cup of coffee. Early calls to duty after making love half the night sure took a bite out if you didn’t have your usual dose of caffeine. He looked at his ringing phone and felt like shit. Gotta do what I gotta do. He ignored the phone. Better a lot of annoyance than a lot of worry.
Al glanced at Zack and made some kind of assessment Zack was aware of. He didn’t know what the conclusion was but he couldn’t waste energy worrying about it. Al had never liked the “new breed” of cop and thus had never had a liking for him. Al could like him or not. His concern was finding out who killed Ray and clearing his name.
Duke Washington hobbled down the steps with his cane. The man was probably in his sixties and held the rail of his brownstone porch, working his way slowly to the street. Zack let out a sigh. “You’re kidding me right?”
“He’s still got a badge. Wash is a good cop. Got shot a couple years ago taking down that Rangers’ drug lord. He’s been on disability and will retire in a coupla weeks. Got pinned. One of your own, don’t remember?”
“Yeah, I remember, decorated for valor. Saved a kid’s life, got shot five times. Yeah, I was working on the Patchett murder, then. Didn’t make the ceremony.”
“Too busy with high society murders to honor one of your own?” Al got out of the car and opened the door for Duke Washington while Zack sighed in annoyance. The guy did not let up. Why should he explain why he’d been borrowed from his precinct for a Gold Coast murder? Corruption and politics. Naturally.
“We got twenty four hours to make this good or my nephew’s calling in the Feds.” Duke flapped the warrant. “So you’re the young man Al said got Curtis Lyons in that robbery. Didn’t know who he was. I don’t know if Lyons is smart or lucky but he’s managed to stay off the radar. His name came up during the Rangers investigation. Just in passing. I passed it on to City but never got any intel back on it. The bureau had nothing on him, nothing.” Washington put his cane on the seat beside him. “I know I’m here just for the record but let me tell you. Big time drugs is a nasty business. They got bigger weapons and more of ‘em. And a bad cop is a desperate cop if he thinks he’s gonna get busted. I appreciate you two are afraid to trust anyone but I wish we had more back up on this. Believe me…” he tapped a wooden leg with his cane, “I know.”
Zack turned at the tap of wood on wood. He saw a wizened but tough looking man who had probably resisted retirement for the past decade. He seemed eager for a last bit of action before settling on his porch to watch the world go by. “We watched them pull into the ware house. Its five blocks away. We videotaped Shaughnessy and another man unloading what looked like wooden crates from a small plane at Joliet airport. What we were told is they’ll cut it there. Bull Shaughnessy rented it on a short term lease. He’ll find out that was good thinking shortly. It looks like it should be condemned but it’s for sale. Shaughnessy will have guards on the goods. Mostly to keep other dealers from trying to get their hands on it. His people will do the packaging and distribute it to local small timers all over the south side. This is according to Al’s information.” Zack swung a nod at Al.
“Oh yeah, the beautiful Honduran with financial problems. She could corrupt the whole force given half a chance.” Duke chuckled. “If I was younger she’d get the whole chance.”
Al ignored the statement. His sense of humor was non-existent as far as Zack could tell. “We don’t know if this stops with Shaughnessy or even goes up as high as the chief. If it goes that high what’s to say the mayor’s not involved. Shut up, Burnham, he your hero? What I’m saying is this is not Ray shake’n down small timers. Bull knows how to grow a business, I’ll give ‘im that. We got something in common after all, Burnham. We trusted partners who made fools of us. I know how you must feel. Even though it’s been a few years since Bull and I… and I was so damned proud of him. Whether or not Bull had anything to do with Russell’s death, he’s still his murderer in my eyes. They all are. Duke, we got to do this. We can’t call in the troops. We won’t know who’s gunning for who.” Zack looked at Al and realized he’d go down to get Bull even if he wasn’t directly responsible for his son’s death. He could understand the sense of betrayal. Not only was Bull a cop, he was the cop who investigated other cops to weed out corruption. Zack’s job had been on the line pending Bull’s investigation of Ray’s death and he sure had been dragging his feet. But was it Lyons or Bull who killed Ray? Or both? He hoped to have the answer soon.
Zack blew out as if steam had been building in his chest for months. He thought of Mo again feeling a little guilty. He’d left a note saying he’d be back in a few hours. He didn’t want to worry her. He hoped he hadn’t lied. More than his job was on the line now and with the possibility of death came a sense of not having really lived. He felt as if he’d just come alive when he met Mo. She was just another woman really, why was life more precious now than a few short weeks ago?
He knew there was always a risk of being killed on the job. Being a detective might have lessened that risk but it was still a fact of the job. It was something every cop knew and lived with. He wasn’t afraid to do what he had to do. He just hoped when it was over, he’d be able to figure out what he really wanted. How would Mo fit in? Maybe she’d just want to go her own way. Could he let her? Did he have a choice? He had a flash of them kissing two miles underground in the lightless coal shaft of the Museum of Science and Industry, his favorite museum. He had been delighted at her enthusiasm for its many and varied exhibits. She had seemed to be realizing there was a whole life outside of her work. She’d limited herself so long to the pursuit of perfection in her field that she had missed many opportunities to explore the cities and countries she had been to. If he
had been with her…
“Mind somewhere else, Burnham?” Al turned into an alley a block over from the warehouse. “We’ll get out here, Duke. Let’s hope they haven’t decided to move. Burnham, she said they’d get busy breaking it down and cutting it right there.” But would she turn on them? Al didn’t think so but he had to accept it was possible. “She said there was a broken window with plywood on it but the plywood was loose. She said the window’s hidden by steel waste containers so if we can get in it’s just a few steps to the main area. She’s going to put some music on and distract Bull. Duke, I’ll radio as soon as I have him neutralized. You come in when you get the all clear. This is your bust. We just happened to be in the area. Prosecutors will feel fortunate to have the tape from the airport you managed to get. One last hurrah, Washington. Burnham, you better know your job.”
“I’m following your orders, Al. Let’s get this done.” Zack kept his gun holstered until they made it into the alley. A large dirty brick building loomed over them. Al found the window and let out a puff of air. It would take time to cut and bag the crates they had seen unloaded. He wasn’t worried about being too late. They just had no way of knowing how many. Rosalie said maybe five but she also thought Bull was trying to get more. He had his own trust issues and Zack could understand why. But Bull Shaughnessy sure wasn’t going to be bagging heroine himself. He just hoped they didn’t find themselves faced with a small army. They climbed inside and heard Latin music playing. She’d kept her word on that.
Al took the lead and Zack remarked to himself how quiet and agile the big man was as he watched him squeeze through the opening while avoiding the dirty shards of glass. Zack followed cursing a small cut on his thumb. Little daylight came through the low window making them adjust their eyes as they went. There were a few steps and a set of steel doors they’d have to get through. Hopefully, the doors would not creak but looking at them Zack knew they would. He felt a rat crawl onto his shoe as Al spied through a hole where a deadbolt lock had once been. Zack shook his shoe. He could barely see the rat scamper off. Al turned.
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