Sullivan's sting

5

The meeting ended precisely as 2:45 p.m. (Lester T. Crockett ran a tight ship), and the staff filed out carrying case folders and notebooks. The air was still fumy with cigarette smoke and the odors of hamburgers and french fries they had ordered in for lunch. Crockett switched his window air conditioner to Exhaust and turned back to his desk. Anthony Harker was still sitting in a folding metal chair.

"Fifteen minutes, chief?" he asked.

"Can't you put it in a memo?" Crockett said.

"No, sir."

"All right. Ten minutes."

Harker hunched forward. "Sullivan called yesterday and left a message on my machine. She's made contact with David Rathbone."

"Made contact?" Crockett said. "What does that mean?"

"She's moved in with him."

The chief laced fingers across his vest and stared up at the ceiling. "Yes," he said, "I would call that making contact. What else did she say?"

"Not much. He was in a unisex beauty salon getting his hair trimmed and styled, plus a shampoo, facial, manicure, and pedicure."

Crockett grunted a laugh. "He lives well."

"Anyway, Rita left him there while she did some shopping with money he gave her. That's when she made her call."

"So? What's your problem?"

"Communications. Chief, there were a lot of questions I wanted to ask, but she had to leave her message on my machine. I want to give her permission to call me here anytime during the day."

Crockett frowned. "Including from Rathbone's home?"

"Yes, sir."

"Chancy. She might be overheard. No, she's too smart for that. But he might notice the higher phone bills and ask for itemization of local calls. That could blow the whole thing."

"I realize that," Harker said. "What I'd like is an unlisted phone in my office for Sullivan's use only. We'd arrange with the phone company that all incoming calls on that line would be billed to us. That way she could call me here during the day and, in case of emergency, my motel at night."

"All right," Crockett said, "set it up." He unlaced his fingers, leaned forward over the desk. "Something else bothering you?"

"Chief, Rathbone and his pals are not tough guys. I mean they don't go around knocking people on the head or robbing gas stations. They live relatively normal lives; they're just nine-to-five crooks."

"Get to the point."

"Admittedly Rathbone isn't Billy the Kid, but if he finds out Rita is a plant, he might turn vicious."

"He might. But you spelled out the deal to her, didn't you? And she didn't back off. She's a cop, and a good one." "Still. ."

"Listen, Harker, you're accustomed to stock swindles and inside trading. White-collar crime. Sullivan's expertise is drug smuggling, homicide, and rape. So don't tell me she won't be able to handle a flimflam artist like Rathbone if he turns nasty." He paused a moment, then: "Worried about her, are you?"

"Yeah."

"Want to pull her off the case and go at Rathbone from a different angle?"

"No."

"Then stop worrying. If anything happens to Sullivan, I'll take the rap, not you."

Harker stood up. "This is the first time I've asked a woman to put out to help me make a case. I don't like this business."

"You'll get used to it," Crockett said.