Read Online Time of Departure by Douglas Schofield - Free Book Online Page B

messenger,” she said.
    â€œI won’t. Just do not—repeat, do not!—put any more calls through from our movie star friend! Now, what do you want?”
    â€œ I don’t want anything,” she sniffed, “except maybe a substantial raise for hazard duty. Mr. Grayson, on the other hand, wants you in his office.”
    I took a few seconds to collect myself and then headed for Sam’s office. As I walked in, he was just ending a phone call. “Yes, I’m well acquainted with the principle of two plus two,” he said. “Thanks for the call.” He hung up his phone. He looked at me.
    â€œWhat’s this I hear about you getting mugged?”
    â€œOh, that.”
    â€œYes, that! Right outside my apartment building! Why didn’t you tell me?”
    I dropped into a chair. “I wasn’t hurt, so no harm done. The guy’s in custody, or in the hospital under guard. I’m not sure which. You’re busy. You don’t need to worry about things that might have happened.”
    He studied my face. “But I do need to worry if one of my prosecutors is being stalked.”
    â€œYou’ve been talking to Annie.”
    â€œShe’s only assigned to you, Claire. She works for me.”
    I sighed and told Sam everything. Well … almost everything. I left out the part where I got sick twice. He was silent after I finished. He leaned back in his chair and stared out the window. Finally, he said, “Of course you’re grateful that he saved your ass that night—I sure as hell am!—but my advice is to stay clear of him.”
    â€œI’m trying to.” I had already explained about directing Hastings to the police and instructing Annie to block his calls.
    â€œWe can always arrange some coverage for you.”
    â€œAre you talking about police protection?”
    â€œSomething less visible. See if he’s still following you.”
    â€œI don’t know … it’s not like he’s dangerous. At least to me,” I added, remembering how efficiently Hastings had dealt with my assailant.
    â€œDon’t be so sure. Word is there’s something strange about him. For a time, after the last girl disappeared in that old case, he was even a suspect. He was cleared, but not long after that, he resigned from the department and left town. He claimed he’d inherited some money.”
    â€œThat was thirty years ago. How do you know all this?”
    â€œLipinski was transferred to CID a year after Hastings. They knew each other, but I’m not sure their relationship was that friendly.”
    When I was relating my experiences to Sam, I had elected not to mention Hastings’s assessment of Lipinski’s professional deficits. Apparently the discussion was running ahead of me.
    I leaned forward. “Lipinski’s been talking to you about Hastings, hasn’t he?”
    â€œThat was him on the phone.”
    â€œWhy did Hastings’s name even come up?”
    â€œDetective Geiger attended the scene outside my building, remember?”
    I made the connection. “Right. Lipinski’s Man Friday.”
    â€œThe fact that Hastings resurfaced in Gainesville the same week those two girls were found at Bronson has generated some talk in the squad room. Cops always say they don’t believe in coincidences, and I have to say, Claire, neither do I.”
    The old coincidence trap, I thought. Nobody ever bothers to break it down. There are different kinds of coincidences, and some of them are just that—coincidences, and nothing more. Others … okay, maybe not.
    And, in this case, I had to admit—
    Sam’s phone rang. He answered, listened, and said, “Put him through.” He handed the receiver to me. “It’s Terry Snead, for you.”
    â€œHi, Terry.” I listened to him for maybe thirty seconds without saying a word. For the last fifteen of those seconds, I had