I heard a throat cleared, then breathing. Final y a voice said, "This is George Dorsey."

"Yes?" My mind scanned, but got no hits.

"You're the one dug up those stiffs?"

The air had gone hol ow as if George Dorsey had cupped his hand around the mouthpiece.

"Yes." Here we go.

"I saw your name in today's pap -- "

"Mr Dorsey, if you have information about those individuals you should speak with one of the investigating officers."

Let Claudel or Quickwater deal with the postmedia circus parade.

"Ain't you with Carcajou?"

"Not in the sense you mean. The investigating officer -- "

"That fuck has his head so far up his ass he's going to need sonar just to find it."

That got my attention.

"Have you spoken with Constable Quickwater?"

"I can't speak with fuck-al while this moron Claudel is squeezing my nuts."

"Excuse me?"

"This ass wipe has aspirations to higher rank, so I sit here sucking shit."

For a moment no one spoke. The cal sounded like it was coming from a bathysphere.

"He's probably putting something together for CNN." I was growing impatient, but didn't want to risk losing information that might be useful.

"Are you cal ing about the skeletons unearthed in St-Basile?"

I heard choking noises, then, "Shit, no."

It was then that my brain locked on to the name. George Dorsey was the suspect Claudel had locked up.

"Have you been charged, Mr Dorsey?"

"Fuck, no.

"Why are they holding you?"

"When they popped me I was holding six bumps of meth."

"Why are you cal ing me?"

"Because none of these other fucks wil listen. I didn't whack Cherokee. That was unskil ed labor."

I felt my pulse increase.

"What do you mean?"

"That ain't how brothers take care of business."

"Are you saying Cherokee's murder wasn't gang-related?"

"Fuckin' A."

"Then who kil ed him?"

"Get your ass over here and I'l lay it al out." I said nothing. Dorsey's breath was loud in the silence. "But this ain't going to be a one-sided shuck." "I've got no reason to trust you.

"And you ain't my choice for Woman of the Year, but none of these jag-offs wil listen. They've launched the D day of police fuck-ups and parked me right on Omaha Beach."

"I'm impressed with your knowledge of history, Mr Dorsey, but why should I believe you?"

"Got a better lead?"

I let the question dangle a moment. Loser though he was, George Dorsey had a point. And no one else appeared inclined to talk to me today.

I looked at my watch. Eleven-twenty

"I'l be there in an hour."

Chapter 21