“Shit,” the EMT said and shook his own head. He wrapped the bandage tight, running it from under my armpit, up over my shoulder, down across my collarbone, around my back and chest, and up to my armpit again.

Inspector Carnell Jefferson watched me steadily with his sleepy eyes as the EMT did his work. Jefferson looked to be in his late thirties, a slim black guy of unremarkable height and build, with a soft, easygoing jaw and a perpetual smile playing lazily at the corners of his mouth. He wore a light blue raincoat over a tan suit and white shirt, a silk tie with a pink and blue floral print hanging slightly askew from an unbuttoned collar. His hair was cut so short and tight to his skull, I wondered why he bothered having any there at all, and he didn’t even blink as rain dripped down the tight skin on his face.

He looked like a nice guy, the kind of guy you’d shoot the shit with at the gym, maybe have a few pitchers with after work. Kind of guy who loved his kids and had sexual fantasies only about his wife.

I’d met cops like him before, though, and he was the last guy you’d want to get too comfortable with. In the box, or testifying at a trial, or hammering away at a witness, this nice guy would turn into a shark in less time than it took to snap your fingers. He was a homicide inspector, a young one, and black in a southern state; he didn’t get where he was by being any suspect’s friend.

“So, Mr. Kenzie, is it?”

“Yup.”

“You’re a private dick up in Bahstan. Correct?”

“That’s what I told you.”

“Uh-huh. Nice town?”

“Boston?”

“Yes. Nice town?”

“I like it.”

“I hear it’s real pretty in the autumn.” He pursed his lips and nodded. “Hear they don’t like niggers much up there, though.”

“There are assholes everywhere,” I said.

“Oh, sure. Sure.” He rubbed his head with the palm of his hand, looked up into the drizzle for a moment, then blinked the rain from his eyes. “Assholes everywhere,” he repeated. “So since we’re standing in the rain talking all friendly about race relations and assholes and the like, whyn’t you tell me about that pair of dead assholes blocking all this here traffic on my bridge?”

Those lazy eyes found mine and I saw a glimpse of the shark in them for just a moment before it disappeared.

“I shot the little guy twice in the chest.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I noticed. Yes.”

“My partner shot the other guy as he drew down on me with a shotgun.”