Read Online Season of the Witch by Timothy C. Phillips - Free Book Online

shrugged. “I just need a little sleep, at this point. Those guys really grilled the hell out of me.”
    Broom clicked his teeth with his tongue, and looked down at me with a fatherly air. “Hey, Roland, remember, these are the good guys. Anybody can make a mistake.”
    “No hard feelings with me, Les.”
    A black Crown Victoria cruised up and stopped in front of us. It was Keeler, the young detective with the freckles and the bubble gum.
    “Hey, Longville, you need a ride?” His eyes shifted from me to Broom.
    “To err is human,” Broom murmured. He put a hand on my shoulder. “Give me a call later.”
    “Hop in,” the young man called out. I slid into right front seat as Broom walked away. “I figured I’d give you a ride to wherever it is you need to go,” Keeler said.
    “Well, if my Buick’s not stolen or stripped, it’s over on Dodge Drive trying to look inconspicuous to the local thieves.”
    “Sure.” He gave a little chuckle, and put out a big freckled hand. “James Keeler. Call me Jake.”
    “Roland Longville. Call me Roland.” We shook hands.
    “Sorry about all of the hard stuff in the interrogation room. We gotta do what we gotta do, you know.”
    “No sweat, I’ve been there.”
    “That’s what I hear. So, you were partners with Big Broom. The two of you must have really put the fear of God into the shitbirds.”
    I suppose I must have smiled. “We were a good team.”
    The young man sat chewing on what he was going to say, then made some sort of internal decision and plunged in: “Hazelwood was a rotten cop, and frankly he was on his way out. Word is he was taking money from Longshot Lonnie. He was under investigation by IA, like Broom said. To most of the rest of us he was, you know, an outcast. But you’ve still got to look after your own, you know? Personally, I had no respect left for the guy. I never liked him. If he was mixed up with Lonnie, it was just a matter of time before he got what was coming to him.”  
    I took in this last bit in tired silence. I needed some rest before I could digest it all.
    * * *
    Keeler pulled up next to my Buick. We shook hands again. I thanked him for the lift and told him I’d be around, then I got out of his car. He nodded and pulled away.
    I got into my Buick, which was, amazingly, all in one piece. I started the engine and pulled away from the curb, heading for home.
    * * *
    I slept fitfully, dreaming of policemen in plain clothes and Eve without any. I awoke around 11:00 a.m. and, feeling none too rested, went into the bathroom and took a long, hot shower. I needed someone to find out some things for me. I needed someone who knew people in this part of Birmingham. Somebody connected. Lucky me. I just happened to know someone like that.
    * * *
    Twenty minutes later, I was sitting in my office, phone to my ear. I had managed to catch up with Jake Keller at the West Precinct. I got the feeling that he liked to spend a lot of time on the job.
    “You’ve helped me to a degree already, Jake. Can I count on you to go a little further?”
    “What is it you want from me?” Jake’s voice was a low, non-committal hiss.
    It was a mixture of complex emotions, that voice, with just a hint of don’t call me here and a generous dash of not you again. I knew I had him roped in, though. He loved police work and this was an intriguing puzzle. I couldn’t tell him everything, though, not yet. That made me feel all the more sleazy for asking my next question. “What’d you guys have on Hazelwood?”
    “I can’t talk to you about that; it’s an active case.” His voice grew firmer, but was still a whisper. I could mentally see him, casting about nervously to see if he was overheard, part detective, part college boy.
    “Forget the paranoia, Jake. You know I need that info if I’m going to sort this out. You guys are on the wrong track. I don’t want to get you into any trouble; I just want to get myself out of it. I need something, anything, so I