set me up and maybe I'll think about forgiving you."
"The Chief doesn't even know who it is."
Gino scowled and scrubbed at his blond brush of wet hair. "Yeah, right. You know what I think? I think this whole thing was a departmental conspiracy, and ten bucks says McLaren was the mastermind, the little Irish rat. I bet there isn't any anonymous donor, and you guys are all busting a gut right now."
"Nope. I saw the wire-transfer number on Malcherson's desk the other day. Looked legit to me."
"No kidding? Did you check it out?"
"Hey, I'd step in the line of fire any day for you, buddy, but I'm not willing to lose my job over this." Magozzi paused for a meaningful moment and then grinned. "I did give it to Grace, though."
Gino's scowl melted faster than his snow cone had. "You are officially off my shit list, buddy."
"Glad to hear it."
"Okay, so spill it-justice awaits."
"I don't know anything yet. Grace didn't have time to check it out before she left for Green Bay."
"Damn, I forgot about that. When's she coming back?"
"In a couple days."
"Oh, man, I can't wait that long." Gino brooded over his predicament for a few moments, then looked at Magozzi triumphantly. "Hey, what about Harley and Roadrunner? They can run the number just as easily as Grace can, and I bet they're bored out of their skulls without two high-maintenance women in their hair. We can take them out for beer and burgers later for their trouble."
"It's Saturday night. Don't you have a hot date with the wife and kids'"
"The wife and kids are deserting me for a pizza party for Helen's softball team."
"You're passing up pizza?"
"It's at one of those hideous theme restaurants where they let toddlers run amok and wallpaper with pepperoni. I have standards, you know. Besides, it's an all-girl thing."
"What about the Accident? Isn't his manhood going to be adversely affected by going to an all-girls thing?"
"Gender discrimination doesn't start until age five."
Magozzi shrugged. "I'll give Harley a call."
Gino beamed at him. "You're the man. Hey, buy me a hot dog, I'm starving."
As Magozzi reached for his wallet, his cell phone chirped. "Go on," he said, passing over a twenty. "Gotta get this." He was foolishly hoping that perhaps Grace MacBride had been overwhelmed with the sudden need to hear his voice. This had never happened before, but sometimes you just had to hold on to the dream.
He was hanging up as Gino wandered back to the picnic table, loaded with three footlongs, two bags of mini-donuts, and an unidentifiable deep-fried thing on a stick.
Gino handed over two dollars in change.
"That'sit?"
"Hey, it's for a good cause, that's what you kept telling me. Was that Grace?"
"Nope. Our old buddy Mike Halloran."
It took Gino a couple of seconds to place the name. "No kidding?Howthe hell's life in the Cheese Belt?"
"Pretty interesting, as of this morning."
"Yeah? What's up?"
"They pulled three bodies out of a swimming hole this morning, figured them for drownings. But when they laid them out, they saw a whole lot of holes that shouldn't have been there. Somebody took a swipe at them with an automatic, the coroner thought maybe anM16."
"Now that's something you don't see every day."
"Not outside a third-world country, anyhow. All the shots lined up, too, execution-style."
Gino took a monstrous bite out of a mustard-and-onion-slathered dog. "Jesus. What a way to spend a Saturday. But why did he call you? Does he think there's a Minneapolis connection or what?"
Magozzi shrugged. "They don't know where to start, because they can't ID the bodies-totally nude, no identifying marks, and no hits on the fingerprints. Halloran was hoping Grace would run the morgue shots through her facial-recognition software, see if anything popped that way."
"So why didn't he just call Sharon? They're practically driving past his front door." Gino polished off his first dog and started in on the second one.
"Because Halloran had no clue Sharon was on her way
"The Chief doesn't even know who it is."
Gino scowled and scrubbed at his blond brush of wet hair. "Yeah, right. You know what I think? I think this whole thing was a departmental conspiracy, and ten bucks says McLaren was the mastermind, the little Irish rat. I bet there isn't any anonymous donor, and you guys are all busting a gut right now."
"Nope. I saw the wire-transfer number on Malcherson's desk the other day. Looked legit to me."
"No kidding? Did you check it out?"
"Hey, I'd step in the line of fire any day for you, buddy, but I'm not willing to lose my job over this." Magozzi paused for a meaningful moment and then grinned. "I did give it to Grace, though."
Gino's scowl melted faster than his snow cone had. "You are officially off my shit list, buddy."
"Glad to hear it."
"Okay, so spill it-justice awaits."
"I don't know anything yet. Grace didn't have time to check it out before she left for Green Bay."
"Damn, I forgot about that. When's she coming back?"
"In a couple days."
"Oh, man, I can't wait that long." Gino brooded over his predicament for a few moments, then looked at Magozzi triumphantly. "Hey, what about Harley and Roadrunner? They can run the number just as easily as Grace can, and I bet they're bored out of their skulls without two high-maintenance women in their hair. We can take them out for beer and burgers later for their trouble."
"It's Saturday night. Don't you have a hot date with the wife and kids'"
"The wife and kids are deserting me for a pizza party for Helen's softball team."
"You're passing up pizza?"
"It's at one of those hideous theme restaurants where they let toddlers run amok and wallpaper with pepperoni. I have standards, you know. Besides, it's an all-girl thing."
"What about the Accident? Isn't his manhood going to be adversely affected by going to an all-girls thing?"
"Gender discrimination doesn't start until age five."
Magozzi shrugged. "I'll give Harley a call."
Gino beamed at him. "You're the man. Hey, buy me a hot dog, I'm starving."
As Magozzi reached for his wallet, his cell phone chirped. "Go on," he said, passing over a twenty. "Gotta get this." He was foolishly hoping that perhaps Grace MacBride had been overwhelmed with the sudden need to hear his voice. This had never happened before, but sometimes you just had to hold on to the dream.
He was hanging up as Gino wandered back to the picnic table, loaded with three footlongs, two bags of mini-donuts, and an unidentifiable deep-fried thing on a stick.
Gino handed over two dollars in change.
"That'sit?"
"Hey, it's for a good cause, that's what you kept telling me. Was that Grace?"
"Nope. Our old buddy Mike Halloran."
It took Gino a couple of seconds to place the name. "No kidding?Howthe hell's life in the Cheese Belt?"
"Pretty interesting, as of this morning."
"Yeah? What's up?"
"They pulled three bodies out of a swimming hole this morning, figured them for drownings. But when they laid them out, they saw a whole lot of holes that shouldn't have been there. Somebody took a swipe at them with an automatic, the coroner thought maybe anM16."
"Now that's something you don't see every day."
"Not outside a third-world country, anyhow. All the shots lined up, too, execution-style."
Gino took a monstrous bite out of a mustard-and-onion-slathered dog. "Jesus. What a way to spend a Saturday. But why did he call you? Does he think there's a Minneapolis connection or what?"
Magozzi shrugged. "They don't know where to start, because they can't ID the bodies-totally nude, no identifying marks, and no hits on the fingerprints. Halloran was hoping Grace would run the morgue shots through her facial-recognition software, see if anything popped that way."
"So why didn't he just call Sharon? They're practically driving past his front door." Gino polished off his first dog and started in on the second one.
"Because Halloran had no clue Sharon was on her way
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