Read Online The Night Falconer by Andy Straka - Free Book Online Page A

the Lonigan case. I didn’t expect to be running into a ghost from my past like Fitzhugh.
    “Don’t I know this guy?” He cocked his head, shifting his gaze between me and Barnes. “Frank Pavlicek. Didn’t you used to be a real cop?”
    “Some people used to think so.”
    He lumbered off his stool behind the bullet-proof glass, depressing a switch that clicked open a heavily fortified door. Stepped out to greet me and pumped my hand so long I thought I might develop arthritis before he gave it back to me. “Hey, you lost a few pounds since I last saw you.”
    “Blame it on the country air.”
    “Sure. You’re where now, North Carolina? Charlotte or something like that?”
    “Charlottesville, Virgina.”
    “Right. The wife wants us to retire down to Carolina. Get out of this friggin cold. What, you working with Ms. Barnes here now?”
    “Just lending her a hand on a case.”
    He glanced at Darla, who was watching both of us with a bemused half-smile on her face. “Bringing in some old- school talent, huh Barnesy? I’m impressed.”
    She shrugged. “You know I just lie awake nights, Sergeant, trying to figure out ways to impress you.”
    “Don’t I wish. Hey …” He looked back at me. “You’re not talking about this Kitty Hitter deal, are you?”
    Word had obviously gotten around.
    “Kitty Hitter?”
    “Yeah. That’s what Marbush, the Lieutenant who took the report, dubbed Barnesy here’s case involving some woman doctor who claims a guy with a bird killed her cat and a bunch of other pets.”
    “Cute,” Darla said.
    “Yeah, but at least the doc went and hired you so now the NYPD can rest easy.” He turned back to me. “That’s not the case you’re talking about though, right Frank?”
    “That would be it,” I said.
    Fitzhugh stared at me. “I’ll be damned.”
    Darla added: “Actually, Frank’s a falconer. Works with big birds and stuff. Doctor Lonigan thought his expertise might be useful in our investigation. And we stopped by because we’ve got an important development to report,” she said.
    “Yeah?” The big cop eyed her for a moment. Then he motioned toward the squad room in back. “Why don’t you two come on back.”
    He punched a combination into a keypad by the door. It clicked open and we followed him into a large, brightly lit hallway that opened up to a great room full of desks, some of which were sectioned off by partitions.
    “You guys want something to drink?”
    We both declined.
    “Smart,” he said. “Last time I tried to drink the battery acid they call coffee around here, I thought my ulcer was going to explode.”
    We rounded a corner and passed a room where four or five other cops were meeting. The space was filled with desks, phones, and computer terminals, all snaked together by what appeared to be miles of cable taped and bundled into walk-overs on the floor.
    “Looks like a hacker’s convention,” I said.
    Fitzhugh addressed the room. “Hey everybody, look what the cat dragged in.” He tried not to break out laughing.
    “Stop,” Darla said.
    “Ms. Barnes has a new partner on the Kitty Hitter thing. Mr. Frank Pavlicek, also formerly of the NYPD.”
    A few mildly curious looks. A muscular Latino man in dark pants and a white collared shirt stared in our direction.
    “Hey, Pavlicek, ain’t you heard? Jim Carey already done the movie.”
    Guffaws rippled across the room.
    Fitzhugh waved his hand. “You guys are hopeless,” he said. Turning back to us: “C’mon. I’ll take you to meet Marbush.”
    We moved on down the corridor toward the back of the building.
    “You just get into town, Frank?” Fitzhugh asked.
    “First thing this morning.”
    “This doctor must be getting real serious about her missing feline.”
    “Something happened out at the airport,” Darla offered. “That’s why we’re here.”
    “Okay.”
    “I went to pick up Frank and his daughter, who works with him. When we got back to my van, someone had broken the glass