Without hesitating, Woolsey jackhammered into reverse, gunned backward, then forward, slamming the Chevrolet across the al ey.
Shutter fast, the wrestling cop was on his feet and across the al ey. He and his partner hit the man at the same time, slamming him into the side of the Chevy.
“Freeze, you fucking freak show!”
The wrestling cop again cranked one of the man’s arms upward behind his back. I heard a thunk as the man’s head struck the car roof.
Woolsey and I got out and looked at the man draped over her car. His wrists were cuffed and the standing cop’s gun was at his temple.
Breathing hard, the wrestling cop kicked the man’s feet apart and frisked him. The search produced a Glock 9-mil imeter semiautomatic and two Ziploc baggies, one fil ed with white powder, the other with smal white tablets.
Tossing the Glock and drugs to his partner, the wrestling cop spun his col ar. The standing cop caught the baggies and took a step back, keeping his gun barrel trained on the man’s chest.
Darryl Tyree regarded us with al -pupil eyes. One lip was bleeding. The ghetto gold chains were knotted, and the cornrows looked like they’d mopped an arena.
Slidel and Rinaldi holstered their guns and approached Tyree. Slidel was stil breathing hard.
Avoiding eye contact, Tyree shifted his weight, shifted back, then back again, as though he wasn’t sure what to do with his feet.
Slidel and Rinaldi crossed their arms and regarded Tyree. Neither detective spoke. Neither moved.
Tyree kept his eyes on the ground.
Slidel dug out and tapped his Camels, extracted one with his lips, and offered the pack to Tyree.
“Smoke?” Slidel ’s face looked scalded, his eyes furious.
Tyree gave a tight head shake, wiggling the tiny pigtails at his neckline.
Slidel lit up, inhaled, placed hands on hips, and exhaled.
“Rock and E-bombs. Planning a two-for-one sale?”
“I don’ deal.” Mumbled.
“I’m sorry, Darryl. I didn’t hear that.” Slidel turned to his partner. “You get that, Eddie?” Rinaldi wagged his head.
“What’d you say, Darryl?”
Tyree slid his eyes to Slidel , but what little sunlight entered the al ey was at the detective’s back. Squinting, Tyree turned his face to one side.
“Shit’s not mine.”
“I got just one problem with that, Darryl. The product was traveling in your pants.”
“I been set up.”
“Now who would do a thing like that?”
“I been around. Man makes enemies, you know what I’m sayin’?”
“Yeah, I know. You’re a tough guy, Darryl.”
“You got nothin’ on me. I’m jus’ goin’ ’bout my bidness.”
“What business would that be?” Slidel .
Tyree shrugged and kicked a heel at the gravel.
Slidel took a drag, dropped the butt, and gave it a twist with the bal of one foot.
“Who you serving for, Darryl?”
Another shrug.