11th hour

Chapter 27

Conklin and I sat in the observation room, our hands cupped around containers of cold coffee, as Lieutenant Lawrence Meile and Captain Jonah Penny, from Vice and Narcotics, respectively, interviewed each of the three Narcotics cops whose names we’d tagged four hours before.

It was uncomfortable, yeah, and painful to see men I’d known for years being grilled about their whereabouts at the time Chaz Smith had been shot. In fact, no one was happy in that interrogation room, not the men asking the questions and especially not Sergeant Roddy Jenkins.

Jenkins kept his voice even, but I thought he was a picture of contained fury as Meile asked him to produce an alibi for Chaz Smith’s time of death — and he didn’t have one.

“I was just driving around. That’s what I like to do when I’m off duty.”

Meile said, “Come on, Roddy. It was two days ago. Where were you in the afternoon?”

“I was screwing your wife, Meile. Ask her. It was pretty good.”

Meile boiled out of his chair and went for him. Penny pulled Meile off Jenkins, and Conklin got into the room in time to stop Jenkins from throwing a punch.

“Roddy. Roddy. Settle down.”

Jenkins acted like Conklin wasn’t there. He shouted at Meile, “I said I was driving around. What? Are you fuckin’ kidding me? You accusing me of taking out that douche bag? I’m not saying another fuckin’ word until my fuckin’ lawyer is sitting next to me.”

Roddy’s name was still on the short list when he threw down his badge and gun and stormed out of the interview room shouting, “Fuck you. Fuck all a’ you.”

Conklin returned to the observation room, said, “That could’ve gone better.”

I said, “I don’t mind seeing his temper. He’s organized. He’s got a lot of years on the force. He’s smart enough to have waited in the bathroom for Smith, and if he was mad, I don’t doubt he would have pulled the trigger. And get two shots dead center too.”

“He’s worked in the department long enough to get a hate-on for dealers.”

“Yeah.”

I crumpled my coffee container, dunked it into the trash, answered my ringing phone.

I hoped the call was from Joe; it wasn’t, but it was almost as good. Claire was calling.

“Got a couple of minutes for me, girlfriend?”