Read Online Flipping Out by Marshall Karp - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Marshall Karp
Tags: Suspense
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for his entire forty-seven years, married for twenty-six, and
sober for the past twenty- four. He's the kind of tough, smart cop I'd want
backing me up in a bar fight or a shootout.
He has one
failing. He doesn't do well with pressure from the top, and this was one of
those cases where he was being squeezed hard, often, and from all sides.
Terry and I
reported to his office at seven the next morning.
'It's Thursday,'
Kilcullen said.
'Yes sir,' Terry
said. 'I caught that in today's paper.'
'I'm not in the
mood for comedy, Biggs. And neither is
Reggie Drabyak.
He called me last night. He was stinking- ass drunk.'
'I think he's a
candidate for AA, lieutenant. You really should think about taking him to one
of your meetings.' Terry said it with such a straight face that Kilcullen
wasn't sure whether or not he was being played.
He let it pass.
'Reggie wants to know who killed his wife, and told me if Lomax and Biggs can't
solve it, he can.'
Terry has his
own shortcomings. Among other things, he is genetically incapable of dealing
with criticism. I'm not great at it myself, but I'm better than he is. I took a
half step in front of him and squared off with Kilcullen. 'You and I both know
that Reggie can't solve this, Loo.'
'Then the
question is, can you solve it? This is day four of the investigation. And yet, I see no progress.'
'We're putting
in the time, but we're running into a lot of dead ends. No ballistics, no prints,
no suspects, and the biggest problem, no motive.'
'You realise, of
course, that Reggie is not the only one crawling up my ass,' Kilcullen said.
'I know, boss.
You got BUTA.'
He forced out a
laugh. 'Oh, yeah. I got big time BUTA.'
Kilcullen was
not an orator. He came from humble roots and basic schooling. Somewhere along
the way, he picked up the habit of turning many of the finer points of his
dialogue into scatological references. He complained so often about having
brass up the ass that Terry abbreviated it to BUTA. Instead of getting pissed,
Kilcullen seemed to enjoy it. Like maybe we understood him better if we gave
his biggest source of pain a code name.
'Everybody up the
chain of command is calling me,' he said. 'I got so much BUTA that my shit hits
the bowl with a clank.'
His visual
imagery is never pretty, even less so at seven in the morning.
'But that's why
you get the big bucks,' Terry said. 'Because you always know what to say to the
brass when they're screaming for justice.'
'Right,'
Kilcullen said. 'But what do I say to Reggie?'
'We're working
on it, Loo,' I said. 'I swear we're going to solve this.'
He nodded, then
hit us with another of his familiar phrases. 'Speed is of the essence, and
failure is not an option.'
He waved us out
of the room. The meeting was over.
'I always feel
so much more motivated after one of those locker room pep talks from Coach Kilcullen,'
Terry said. 'Plus I feel really confident that we're going to break this case
now that you officially swore we'd solve it.'
'It wasn't an
official swear,' I said-, 'It was more of a contractor swear. Like that asshole
Hal Hooper telling me that Diana and I would be living in the house by
September first.'
We spent the
next eleven hours working hard and getting nowhere. We went over forensics and
the statements that Chris High's team had collected. We talked to informants
who had nothing to inform.
We revisited the
names of all the johns from Reggie's caseload who might have been damaged
enough to want to commit homicide as payback. Then we spent the rest of the day
on the street talking to pimps and hookers, all of whom knew Detective Drabyak,
and most of whom thought he was a pretty decent cop.
By 6:00 p.m. we
were back at the station documenting our failures in writing. Normally, we
wouldn't get the reports out so fast, but we were killing time. We had Nora's
book party to go to at seven, and having seen more than enough of her-over the
past few days, we had no desire to be early.
At 6:45 I
suggested we wrap
sober for the past twenty- four. He's the kind of tough, smart cop I'd want
backing me up in a bar fight or a shootout.
He has one
failing. He doesn't do well with pressure from the top, and this was one of
those cases where he was being squeezed hard, often, and from all sides.
Terry and I
reported to his office at seven the next morning.
'It's Thursday,'
Kilcullen said.
'Yes sir,' Terry
said. 'I caught that in today's paper.'
'I'm not in the
mood for comedy, Biggs. And neither is
Reggie Drabyak.
He called me last night. He was stinking- ass drunk.'
'I think he's a
candidate for AA, lieutenant. You really should think about taking him to one
of your meetings.' Terry said it with such a straight face that Kilcullen
wasn't sure whether or not he was being played.
He let it pass.
'Reggie wants to know who killed his wife, and told me if Lomax and Biggs can't
solve it, he can.'
Terry has his
own shortcomings. Among other things, he is genetically incapable of dealing
with criticism. I'm not great at it myself, but I'm better than he is. I took a
half step in front of him and squared off with Kilcullen. 'You and I both know
that Reggie can't solve this, Loo.'
'Then the
question is, can you solve it? This is day four of the investigation. And yet, I see no progress.'
'We're putting
in the time, but we're running into a lot of dead ends. No ballistics, no prints,
no suspects, and the biggest problem, no motive.'
'You realise, of
course, that Reggie is not the only one crawling up my ass,' Kilcullen said.
'I know, boss.
You got BUTA.'
He forced out a
laugh. 'Oh, yeah. I got big time BUTA.'
Kilcullen was
not an orator. He came from humble roots and basic schooling. Somewhere along
the way, he picked up the habit of turning many of the finer points of his
dialogue into scatological references. He complained so often about having
brass up the ass that Terry abbreviated it to BUTA. Instead of getting pissed,
Kilcullen seemed to enjoy it. Like maybe we understood him better if we gave
his biggest source of pain a code name.
'Everybody up the
chain of command is calling me,' he said. 'I got so much BUTA that my shit hits
the bowl with a clank.'
His visual
imagery is never pretty, even less so at seven in the morning.
'But that's why
you get the big bucks,' Terry said. 'Because you always know what to say to the
brass when they're screaming for justice.'
'Right,'
Kilcullen said. 'But what do I say to Reggie?'
'We're working
on it, Loo,' I said. 'I swear we're going to solve this.'
He nodded, then
hit us with another of his familiar phrases. 'Speed is of the essence, and
failure is not an option.'
He waved us out
of the room. The meeting was over.
'I always feel
so much more motivated after one of those locker room pep talks from Coach Kilcullen,'
Terry said. 'Plus I feel really confident that we're going to break this case
now that you officially swore we'd solve it.'
'It wasn't an
official swear,' I said-, 'It was more of a contractor swear. Like that asshole
Hal Hooper telling me that Diana and I would be living in the house by
September first.'
We spent the
next eleven hours working hard and getting nowhere. We went over forensics and
the statements that Chris High's team had collected. We talked to informants
who had nothing to inform.
We revisited the
names of all the johns from Reggie's caseload who might have been damaged
enough to want to commit homicide as payback. Then we spent the rest of the day
on the street talking to pimps and hookers, all of whom knew Detective Drabyak,
and most of whom thought he was a pretty decent cop.
By 6:00 p.m. we
were back at the station documenting our failures in writing. Normally, we
wouldn't get the reports out so fast, but we were killing time. We had Nora's
book party to go to at seven, and having seen more than enough of her-over the
past few days, we had no desire to be early.
At 6:45 I
suggested we wrap
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