Kiss Of Evil

65

Carla Davis rushes across the icy parking lot at the Cleveland Heights city hall. Bobby Dietricht has gone to Jeremiah Cross’s address on Powell Road. Greg is on his way to the Cain Manor apartments. It is Carla’s job to reach out to the Cleveland Heights PD before they begin banging on doors. Even though time is incredibly tight, it is absolutely necessary.

In the lobby of the Cleveland Heights city hall Carla sees two grimfaced men chatting by the elevators; one weaselly and rail thin; the other portly, pockmarked. Carla recognizes the older, heavier of the men as Denny Sanchez, a Cleveland Heights detective.

She takes out her badge, and all three cops exhibit the usual camaraderie, tempered by the usual rivalry.

“What can we do for the city?” Sanchez asks.

Carla explains, in minimal detail, the need for Cleveland Heights assistance.

Sanchez buys half the loaf, says: “I think the chief will want a little bit more.”

Carla glances at her watch. A little bit more puts Paris in the middle. “That’s classified for the time being.”

“Then so are the Cain Manor apartments,” Sanchez says. “Just give me a name. I won’t take it.”

Carla hesitates for a moment. “Cross.”

The skinny cop barks a laugh.

“Something funny?” Carla says, leaning in, towering over him.

“No,” he says. “No ma’am.”

Sanchez asks: “Is there somewhere we can call you?”

Carla holds the skinny cop’s stare until he looks away, then says, “I can wait right here if you’ve got to talk to someone, Denny.”

“Well, we have to clear this from high on high. You understand. It’s New Year’s Eve, for God’s sake. Let me talk to Chief Blake. I’ll call you right back.”

“Like tonight?”

“Like in ten minutes,” Sanchez says.

Carla flips him a card, holds up her phone. “Ten minutes.”