Chapters (95)
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Sixty-Nine
- Seventy
- Seventy-One
- Seventy-Two
- Seventy-Three
- Seventy-Four
- Seventy-Five
- Seventy-Six
- Seventy-Seven
- Seventy-Eight
- Seventy-Nine
- Eighty
- Eighty-One
- Eighty-Two
- Eighty-Three
- Eighty-Four
- Eighty-Five
- Eighty-Six
- Eighty-Seven
- Acknowledgements
- About the Author
- Also by David Swinson
- Thank you for buying this ebook, published by Hachette Digital.
I make my way back to the car. I need a shower and a change of clothing. After that I’m going to call Hurley, ask him about the secondhand dealers that my boy, Record Store Oscar, told me about.
Fifteen
Fifteen
Hurley was at a witness conference when I called him earlier, but he suggested meeting at the Fraternal Order of Police lodge. It’s on 4th Street, about a block from the US attorney’s office. I used to be a frequent flyer in this spot. Long time ago. Back when I had court almost every day.
Couple of young uniforms are standing on the sidewalk just before the glass double-door front entry. I’ve already worked up a bit of a sweat on the short walk here. Seeing them standing there talking in this humidity makes me want to sweat more. Don’t know how they can be out here chatting it up and put up with the discomfort that comes with trapped sweat under those Kevlar vests. Conditioning, I guess. Personally, I never got used to it.
Just before I ring the buzzer to announce myself, I hear one of them say, “How can they tell me without any notice that I got to work twelve hours? How do they get away with that shit?”
“That is some bullshit,” the other responds.
“Well, my witness conference just got a lot longer. I’ll be parking my ass at the Nickel for the remainder. Fuck those protesters.”
I chuckle to myself. The Nickel. That’s the US attorney’s office, ’cause the address is 555. I used to call it the Triple Nickel.
“Ching-ching, baby. That’s how you have to look at it,” the other says.
I push the button for the intercom, announce myself.
I pull the door open when I hear the lock click, walk up a short flight of stairs, then make a right through an open door to the restaurant and bar. Fortunately, it’s not that crowded. They’ve cleaned it up. Looks more like a regular commercial establishment than the dingy old hiding spot it once was. The tough, scratchy-voiced waitress who used to work behind the bar and at the tables seems to have been replaced by a younger, friendlier woman.
A couple of old-timers, more than likely retired, sit on stools, upper halves bent over the wooden bar, propping themselves up with an elbow while nursing something mixed. Their faces weather-worn, with smiles like “those were the days.” Same framed photos, maybe a couple of new ones, hanging on the walls. Lot of history there.