The Executioner

Twelve

The party was already in full swing by the time Hunter arrived. Everyone was there. From the chief of police to the Robbery-Homicide Division’s mail boy. Even the mayor was expected to turn up. That wasn’t surprising given that William Bolter had been the Robbery-Homicide Division’s captain for the past eighteen years. Most of the division’s detectives had never been under a different captain. Everyone owed Captain Bolter a favor or two – everyone including Robert Hunter.

The Redwood Bar & Grill was bustling with law-enforcement officers. The ones on duty had their beepers securely clipped onto their belts. The ones off duty had beer bottles and whiskey glasses in their hands.

Hunter and Garcia had spent the entire day at the Seven Saints Catholic Church and its neighborhood. But the house-to-house turned up nothing but scared and distressed people. Hunter’s mind was overflowing with questions, and he knew the answers would take time.

‘Believe it or not, they have a ten-year-old bottle of Macallan behind the bar,’ Garcia said, coming up to Hunter with two half-full whiskey tumblers.

Single-malt Scotch whiskey was Hunter’s biggest passion. But unlike most people, he knew how to appreciate it instead of simply getting drunk on it.

‘To Captain Bolter.’ He raised his glass. Garcia did the same. ‘Where’s Anna?’ Hunter asked, looking around.

Anna Preston had been Garcia’s high school sweetheart and they’d married straight after graduation.

‘She’s at the bar chatting to some of the other wives.’ Garcia made a silly face. ‘We ain’t staying long.’

‘Me neither,’ Hunter agreed.

‘Are you gonna go back to the church?’

‘Roberrrrrt,’ Detective Kyle Byrne interrupted, grabbing Hunter by the arm and raising the bottle of Bud in his hand. ‘A toassst to Captain Bolterrr.’

Hunter smiled and touched his glass against Kyle’s bottle.

‘Where’re you going?’ Kyle asked as Hunter started towards the bar. ‘’ave a drink wizz us,’ he slurred, pointing towards a table where a handful of detectives sat drinking. They all looked wasted.

Hunter nodded to everyone at the table. ‘I’ll come back in a minute, Kyle. I just gotta say hello to a few people, but Carlos here can hang around with you boys for a while.’ He patted Garcia on the back, who gave him a ‘you didn’t just do that to me?’ look.

‘Carlosss. Come and ’ave a drink.’ Kyle dragged Garcia towards the table.

A firm hand grabbed Hunter by the shoulder before he reached the bar. He turned around ready to raise a new toast.

‘So you finally decided to show up.’

Captain Bolter was an impressive-looking man. Tall and built like a rhinoceros. Despite being in his late sixties, he still had a full head of silvery hair. His thick mustache had been his trademark for the past twenty years. His menacing figure demanded respect.

‘Captain,’ Hunter replied with a pleased smile. ‘Did you actually think I wouldn’t turn up?’

Captain Bolter placed his right arm around Hunter’s shoulders. ‘Let’s step outside, shall we? I can’t bear to raise another toast to myself.’