Jack. “You bring the treats?”
Jack spun around, opened the back passenger door, and pulled out the to-go boxes of coffee and a large bag of donuts and coffee fixings. He handed them to Roy. “There’s my end of the bargain.”
Roy accepted them and then looked over his shoulder. “Gotta make this quick. Some of the big boys are starting to show up.”
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“You want the full answer, or do I Reader’s Digest it for you?”
“You’re the one working.”
“Right.” He put the coffee and donuts on the hood of Jack’s car and walked over to the sidewalk. Jack and I followed.
“You read the papers,” Roy said. “Watch TV. We been getting a lot of shit about which cases get the most attention and which ones don’t. So when a … black youth shows up dead along the river, we treat it with the utmost priority.”
I had a comment for that, but decided to keep my mouth shut.
“Also, with the mayor’s war on illegal and out-of-state guns, the guys with all the stripes wanna make sure they are all over this before briefing Hizzoner, who, I hear through the grapevine, is already on his way to the hospital as we speak to meet personally with the victim’s family—as soon as they get an ID—to share their pain and express his outrage at another senseless killing involving an illegal weapon. How the family’s gonna spin what their kid was doing down by the river at this hour—possibly in possession of some serious firepower—should be interesting to watch.”
I looked at Jack and then back to Roy. “So why’d you call Jack?”
Roy gave Jack a look, not knowing how much to say. Jack spoke first.
“Roy and I have a deal. If he comes across anything he thinks might be of interest to me, he calls. It’s called the private investigation business for a reason.”
I knew that. Back in the days when I was a cop, I had a few PIs give me their business cards. They made decent bookmarks.
“But how’d he know to call you about this?”
“I put the word out on my way home from your place this morning. Any squeals involving automatic or semiautomatic weapons, gimme a shout. Roy did.” He turned back to his friend. “You sure on the make and model?”
“Beretta Px4,” Roy said. “Nice piece for a gangbanger. Too nice to leave behind. Worth at least three or four bills on the street.”
“So, the shooter…” I started to say.
“Wanted the piece to be found,” Jack finished for me. “And I betcha another dozen donuts that when Ballistics gets their hands on the vic’s gun, it’s gonna match one used in a very recent and very local shooting.”
“Shit,” I said, not wanting to believe where Jack was headed with this. There were too many illegal assault weapons floating around the five boroughs. It was a bit of a leap to say this was the one that had killed Ricky. But Jack had a point about recent and local. “Anything interesting on the DB?” I asked Roy.
“He’s got some outstanding ink work running from just below his right ear down to his little finger. They’re processing his prints now. If he’s in the system—and that’s not a very big if, if you ask me—they’ll have him ID’d not too long after the mayor gets to the hospital.”
“Who discovered the body?”
“Livery driver. He heard a shot while enjoying a late-night beverage along the waterfront. He was halfway over the bridge before he called nine-one-one.”
“So no wits?” Jack asked.
“Nada.”
Jack and I looked at each other. Neither one of us came up with anything else to say. Officer Roy White took the bag and boxes off the hood of the car and said, “Better get these over to the scene before they get cold.”
“Good looking out, Roy,” Jack said. “You’ll let me know when anything else comes up?”
“Yeah.” Roy looked over his shoulder then back at Jack. “Same deal, right?”
Jack took Roy by the elbow and walked him away from me, back toward the scene. They stopped
Jack spun around, opened the back passenger door, and pulled out the to-go boxes of coffee and a large bag of donuts and coffee fixings. He handed them to Roy. “There’s my end of the bargain.”
Roy accepted them and then looked over his shoulder. “Gotta make this quick. Some of the big boys are starting to show up.”
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“You want the full answer, or do I Reader’s Digest it for you?”
“You’re the one working.”
“Right.” He put the coffee and donuts on the hood of Jack’s car and walked over to the sidewalk. Jack and I followed.
“You read the papers,” Roy said. “Watch TV. We been getting a lot of shit about which cases get the most attention and which ones don’t. So when a … black youth shows up dead along the river, we treat it with the utmost priority.”
I had a comment for that, but decided to keep my mouth shut.
“Also, with the mayor’s war on illegal and out-of-state guns, the guys with all the stripes wanna make sure they are all over this before briefing Hizzoner, who, I hear through the grapevine, is already on his way to the hospital as we speak to meet personally with the victim’s family—as soon as they get an ID—to share their pain and express his outrage at another senseless killing involving an illegal weapon. How the family’s gonna spin what their kid was doing down by the river at this hour—possibly in possession of some serious firepower—should be interesting to watch.”
I looked at Jack and then back to Roy. “So why’d you call Jack?”
Roy gave Jack a look, not knowing how much to say. Jack spoke first.
“Roy and I have a deal. If he comes across anything he thinks might be of interest to me, he calls. It’s called the private investigation business for a reason.”
I knew that. Back in the days when I was a cop, I had a few PIs give me their business cards. They made decent bookmarks.
“But how’d he know to call you about this?”
“I put the word out on my way home from your place this morning. Any squeals involving automatic or semiautomatic weapons, gimme a shout. Roy did.” He turned back to his friend. “You sure on the make and model?”
“Beretta Px4,” Roy said. “Nice piece for a gangbanger. Too nice to leave behind. Worth at least three or four bills on the street.”
“So, the shooter…” I started to say.
“Wanted the piece to be found,” Jack finished for me. “And I betcha another dozen donuts that when Ballistics gets their hands on the vic’s gun, it’s gonna match one used in a very recent and very local shooting.”
“Shit,” I said, not wanting to believe where Jack was headed with this. There were too many illegal assault weapons floating around the five boroughs. It was a bit of a leap to say this was the one that had killed Ricky. But Jack had a point about recent and local. “Anything interesting on the DB?” I asked Roy.
“He’s got some outstanding ink work running from just below his right ear down to his little finger. They’re processing his prints now. If he’s in the system—and that’s not a very big if, if you ask me—they’ll have him ID’d not too long after the mayor gets to the hospital.”
“Who discovered the body?”
“Livery driver. He heard a shot while enjoying a late-night beverage along the waterfront. He was halfway over the bridge before he called nine-one-one.”
“So no wits?” Jack asked.
“Nada.”
Jack and I looked at each other. Neither one of us came up with anything else to say. Officer Roy White took the bag and boxes off the hood of the car and said, “Better get these over to the scene before they get cold.”
“Good looking out, Roy,” Jack said. “You’ll let me know when anything else comes up?”
“Yeah.” Roy looked over his shoulder then back at Jack. “Same deal, right?”
Jack took Roy by the elbow and walked him away from me, back toward the scene. They stopped
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