True Blue

CHAPTER 47

THE EGGS were good, the toast slathered in butter, the bacon crispy, and the coffee steamy. They ate their fill and then Mace and Roy sat back. He patted his stomach. “Gotta start playing ball again before I get a gut.”

“So the Captain wants you to rep him?”

He took a sip of coffee and nodded. “I don’t have any details yet.”

Mace fingered her cup. “But you don’t think he did it?”

“No, but I’ll admit that my judgment is probably a little biased. I like the guy.”

“Big teddy bear?”

“With a combat bronze and two Purple Hearts,” he said sharply.

“I’m not making fun of him. It’s shitty that a war hero is on the streets.”

“But if he did kill Diane?”

“Then it’s over, Roy, friend or not.”

“At least he won’t be living on the streets anymore.”

“So you going to rep him?”

“I’m not sure. I work for Shilling & Murdoch. They don’t do criminal defense work. I don’t do criminal defense work anymore.”

“There’s always pro bono. Your firm can’t have a problem with that.”

“I thought you believed he was guilty?”

“Everybody deserves a good defense. Least I heard that somewhere.”

“I’ll meet with him, go from there.”

She pulled the key out. “Do you want me to let you know what I find?”

“Like I said, I’m going with you.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I’ll probably lose my license to practice before this is all over.”

Mace looked confused. “But you still want to come with me? Why?”

“I have no rational basis for answering that question.”

“Meaning you have an irrational basis?”

Roy put some cash down for the meal.

“So how are you going to find out which box was Diane’s?”

“When I think of it you’ll be the first to know. By the way, how much do I have left on my buck retainer?”

“After last night, ten cents. Use it wisely.”

When Mace and Roy came out of the diner, Karl Reiger picked them up from his observation post tucked inside the mouth of an alley. Farther down the block Don Hope sat in a pale blue Chevy van, his glass on the same target. When Roy and Mace climbed on her bike and drove down the street, Hope eased the van forward and followed. Reiger backed down the alley, came out on the next street over, and ran a parallel course on their tail. They radioed back and forth on a secure communication line and switched out the surveillance every three blocks to knock down the odds of Mace picking up the tail.

Reiger settled back in his seat. It should have been over last night. And it would have been if the punk lawyer hadn’t screwed his shot. That would not happen again. Reiger didn’t like killing people, especially fellow Americans, but above all, he was going to survive this, even if no one else did.