[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

"So you worked all weekend while I played hooky?"
"And lucky thing you did, Ms. Cooper. May I say that for once you are no
longer the favorite prosecutor of the Manhattan Special Victims Squad? I don't
want to be a snitch, but somebody drew a mustache and horns on that picture of
you holding my baby boy last Christmas. You look downright evil."
"Easy come, easy go. What now?"
Page 196
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"The guys are really pissed at you because of the order from Judge McFarland
in the Carido case."
"You mean not being able to try to match their DNA evidence to the linkage
database? Two weeks and we'll have a whole new set of rules. Good ones, I
hope."
"In the meantime, we caught six new squeals since Thursday night."
"Yeah, I saw the complaint reports on Laura's desk this morning. Four of them
knew their attackers. DNA won't make the difference in those cases. Tell the
squad to work those cases the old-fashioned way with their brains."
"Well, they need the databank in the other two. In fact, when you look those
reports over more carefully, you'll see that Saturday night's break-in down on
Allen Street may be part of a pattern. We want to try to link it to an open
series in Tribeca."
Mike had finished his hero and was working on his second bag of nachos. "She's
not going to win any popularity contests in the Homicide Squad either. Same
beef."
"I didn't go up to court intending to try to make new law, guys. It was a
command performance."
"Yeah, well, don't go calling nine-one-one again any time soon," Mike said,
wiping the mustard from his cheek with the back of his hand. "Some dick is
likely to tell you to stick your DNA up your "
"Laura? You just reminded me, Mike. Laura?" She poked her head through the
doorway. "Would you call down to the supply office? They need to issue me a
new cell phone. Beg them to let me keep my old number, okay?"
"Got it."
"I had to turn mine in to the detectives this morning so they can make a
record of the exact times of the calls I made from my building last night," I
explained to Mike and Mercer. "They have to check with Benito, too. Maybe he
heard whether my attacker said anything while the line was open."
"I thought you told me he didn't say a word."
"That's exactly what I told you. And I'm Sure of it. They just want to
double-check, in case I'm mistaken.''
"Guess you got zero credibility, Coop. Those cops trust you about twice as
much as you trust your witnesses. It's good medicine for you. What'd you think
of Hubert Alden?" Mike had finished his bottle of root beer and reached for a
swig of my Diet Coke to wash down the food.
"Same as I think about anybody who throws a curve like that one. You and I had
such tunnel vision about the Met as the geographic center of this
investigation. There's something way too slick about Alden, and I worry that
maybe he's just steering us away from the progress we were making," I said, as
Mike started to tell Mercer about the rehearsal studios at City Center.
"Progress? You still got a ballerina in a refrigerator down at the morgue and
me itching to put cuffs on Joe-do-you-know-who-I-am-Berk. Progress is when I
ratchet those little metal bracelets on some-body's wrists."
Page 197
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"When do we check the place out?" Mercer asked.
Mike looked at his watch. "It's almost three o'clock. Let's get up there while
there's still someone to show us around. Where are your wheels?"
"Bayard Street. Near the sleazebag bail bondsman's office."
"I'm in front of the building. Let's use mine. Chow down, blondie."
The ride up Avenue of the Americas was slowed by traffic. I tried to nap in a
corner of the cluttered rear seat of Mike's department car. I didn't have to
count sheep I had an even longer list, it seemed, of suspects who had eluded
the long arm of the law this past week: the Turkish doctor who drugged his
victims; Ramon Carido, the rapist who'd been bitten by a dog; and Ralph
Harney, the stagehand who'd gotten a stand-in rather than provide us with a
sample of his DNA.
"Ralph Harney," I said aloud. "You think he knows enough about electrical
stuff to have been the guy who blackened the apartments and waited for me last
night?"
Mike cocked his head and looked at me in the rearview mirror. "He's a
stagehand, not an electrician."
"But he's worked around all that elaborate stage wiring for years. Had to pick [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

zanotowane.pl

doc.pisz.pl

pdf.pisz.pl

kajaszek.htw.pl