Parker 02 - The Guilty (10 page)

how much I appreciate your trusting me with this assignment. I'm...wait, Parker's moving. I'll call you back when I

get anything new."

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83

"You do that, Jamesy, you do that."

"Hey, Miss Cole?" James said apprehensively. "Do you

think I can file expense reports for my breakfast? The bagels

at this place are like three bucks each."

"Not a chance, Jamesy. Talk to you later." She hung up.

15

I rounded the corner and saw him standing at a street vendor,

paying for coffee and a muffin and waiting for change.

"Make that two coffees," I said.

"My friend here will take his with twelve sugars," Curt

Sheffield said.

The vendor looked at me like I'd asked for a side of pork

loin. "That's a lot of sugar, man."

"Three Splendas," I said. "I thought cops weren't

allowed to lie."

"That's to suspects and witnesses. Not reporters. In fact,

that's encouraged."

Curt took his change. I watched in awe as he inhaled the

muffin in three bites.

"I think I've seen the same thing happen with boa constrictors. I bet if I look closely I can see a muffin-shaped protrusion in your uniform."

"Lay off, I haven't eaten since breakfast. You know at first

I liked the idea of being the NYPD's poster boy, but you

can't catch a break on the streets. Parents introducing their

kids to me like I'm walking around in a Mickey Mouse

costume or something."

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"If Mickey carried a loaded Glock." He licked the crumbs

from his fingers. "And aren't you guys supposed to eat donuts?"

Curtis sipped his coffee, wiped some crumbs from his

mouth. He nodded, said, "Let's go," through a mouthful, and

led me down the block. It was a cool afternoon, the streets

lined with people preparing for the commute home.

"So tell me about the note," I said.

"What, no foreplay?"

"Not when two people have been killed."

"That's our job to deal with," Sheffield said. "You write about

it, remember? That shit last year don't make you Dick Tracy."

"You're right, but you also know I'm one of the few guys

in this town who'll give you a fair shake."

Curt sipped his coffee. "Word is Harvey Hillerman is hard

up on Wallace to raise circulation. Says the
Dispatch
is

growing and you're shrinking worse than my old man after

joining the polar bear club."

Harvey Hillerman was the owner of the
Gazette,
and perpetually at war with the tabloid tactics of the other papers in

town. But it was hard to keep the public's interest with payroll

scandals when the
Dispatch
could just take a shot of Athena

Paradis in a bikini, slap it on the front page and match your

circulation rate.

"It's not my job to worry about Hillerman."

"It's your job to make sure you have a job,
paisan.
"

"You know you're black, right?"

"What,
paisan
is reserved for Italians? Screw that."

We walked toward Sixth Avenue.

"So what have you got?" I asked.

"Well, the ballistics report came back. I'll tell you, the

pressure on Perez is unreal. Costas Paradis is watching every

move he makes with a magnifying glass, and he's holding that

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Jason Pinter

glass up to the sun. Man's got eyes and ears from every

lawmaker to every sewer grate in the city."

"His daughter was killed, what do you expect?"

"Carruthers has instituted mandatory overtime every day

this week," Sheffield continued. "They have undercovers

staking out every major nightclub, patrolmen inspecting every

rooftop within line of sight. They have us watching any celebrity that goes anywhere after midnight. Problem is we

don't know what we're looking for. Not to mention we're all

watching our backs after Joe got killed."

I looked at the ground.

"Don't let it get to you. Guys in the department don't hold

a grudge for the most part. And the guys that do hold grudges

are all old school, the kind the department keeps on a tight

leash because they might have had ties to Mike DiForio's

crew. Carruthers knows Fredrickson was dirty, that he was

taking money from that Tony Soprano wannabe. Until

DiForio got barbecued, that is."

"When you say guys don't hold a grudge 'for the most

part,' what's that, like fifty percent? Ninety?"

Sheffield toed the cement. Then he looked at me. "Not

gonna lie, bro, there's definitely some bad blood. Fredrickson might have been dirty, but he went back a long way. The

bad ones always have friends and there are always other

people who covered their asses. Joe Mauser, though, he was

a good cop. It's just a cumulative effect of what's happened

to that family."

"What do you think?" I asked.

"Me? Shit. I wouldn't be here right now if I held a grudge.

Fact is, city needs you on this story a whole lot more than it

needs you digging up celebrity tampons to pad Hillerman's

bottom line. Plus I like your stuff. Tired of reading news

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87

reports that read like they were written by fuckers who are

stuck on typewriters and Geritol."

"I appreciate that."

"Appreciate it in private. I'm happy to give you dirt so it

doesn't end up in Cole's witch cauldron. But after this, I gotta

be a ghost, man."

I waited for him to continue.

"So ballistics confirmed the same caliber shot was used to

kill Athena Paradis and Joe Mauser."

"No big shock there," I said.

"No, we figured it was the same sick son of a bitch. But they

were
surprised to find out the caliber bullet our man used."

"Unusual?"

"I'd say .44-40 magnum rounds." Curt waited a moment.

He expected my jaw to drop, but I must have slept through

my NRA 101 course.

"Why's that surprise you?"

"Nobody uses .44-40 ammunition these days. Just an impractical caliber to use, on both sides of the good guy/bad guy coin."

"Why's that?"

"Magnum rounds are large, man. Heavy velocity, heavy

impact. The recoil on those things will knock you on your ass.

Forget everything Dirty Harry said, any cop who wants to be

able to get off a second round in the same zip code would be

an idiot to carry around a magnum. Only people who use it are

idiot cons who think it looks pretty, but any perp who knows

anything about weapons would prefer something lighter."

"Idiots don't kill women with a single shot from a hundred

yards out," I said.

"No. That takes a different kind of mental defect."

"So what are magnum rounds used for?" I asked.

"Hunting, mostly," Sheffield said. "Got an uncle, lives out

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Jason Pinter

in Montana, goes big game hunting using magnum rounds.

Got a black bear head on his mantel used to scare the shit out

of me and my sister growing up. It's a good caliber for up to

a hundred and fifty yards, after that the bullet is too heavy to

maintain its accuracy."

"The killer shot both Athena and Joe Mauser from within

two hundred yards."

"Right."

"Further reduces his idiocy quotient. Obviously the killer

is smart enough to know his range."

"Question is," Sheffield said, "why would anyone use

magnum rounds for that kind of sniper shooting? Only an idiot

would try to kill a person from far away using a magnum round.

.22s are lighter, faster and more accurate. Not to mention easier

to get. I'm up there on the roof? I'm using .22s."

"Unless there's a reason for using magnum rounds," I said.

"Whoever killed Mauser and Athena planned the murders out.

They knew Athena was going to be at the Kitten Club, and

they knew the setup outside city hall well enough to position

themselves for a shot. You don't go through that kind of

trouble and then randomly pick a gun and bullet that might

separate your shoulder with the recoil."

"It is sexy ammo," Curt said, rather offhandedly. "Magnum."

We continued walking, both processing the information.

Powerful, short range, heavy, high velocity.
Sexy.

"Wait," I said. "What do you mean it's sexy?"

"Look, I'm not saying you'll find it at Victoria's Secret..."

"Come on. The killer chose this ammo for a reason. Why

does someone choose magnum ammunition over something

more practical? Especially when they have everything else

planned to a T?"

"Well," Curtis said. "Dirty Harry made magnum ammo

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89

cool. Forget which one of the movies it was, but he used .44

caliber special loads, which are lighter and don't have the

same recoil. Funny thing is they didn't actually use a magnum

while shooting the movie, they used--"

"Come on," I said, impatiently. "What else?"

"Well, magnum ammo is probably the one ammunition

that's actually known in pop culture. Ever see that movie,

Winchester 73?
" I shook my head. "Great flick. James

Stewart and Shelley Winters. Anyway, the Winchester is

commonly referred to as 'The Gun that Won the West.' Most

popular rifle, probably ever, kind of a folk legend. The Winchester uses .44-40 magnum rounds."

"No shit," I said. "Winchester, huh?"

"Winchester."

"Think there's a chance our killer might have used a Winchester on Athena and Joe?"

"It's a possibility, man, but the Winchester plant shut down

a few years ago. It's not even called Winchester these days,

some conglomerate took it over. Probably called GunTex or

something stupid. And trust me, nobody uses Winchester

rifles anymore. They went out with the dodo and bellbottoms."

"Some people think bell-bottoms are hip," I said.

"Hey, what you and your girl do is between the two of y'all."

"Yeah, but maybe there's someone out there who thinks

Winchesters are the new black. Or at least has a reason for

using one."

"Well, I can't imagine there are a whole lot of working

ones left, so you got yourself a lead there, Maureen Dowd."

"And the note," I said. "You told me another note was left

at the scene again."

"No, I didn't," Curt said.

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Jason Pinter

"You did, asshole, give it."

Curt looked around, his eyes narrowing. "This is some creepy

stuff, man. Hard to get something like that out of your head."

"Do you have a copy of it I could take?" I asked.

"Nah. I didn't need one. You don't forget something like

that."

"What did the note say?"

Curt stopped, seemed to think for a moment, then carefully spoke.

"It said, 'People thought me bad before, but if ever I should

get free, I'll let them know what bad means.'"

"I'll let them know what bad means," I repeated. "I didn't

write that."

"He used a line from one of your articles after shooting

Athena, right?"

"Yeah," I said. "Not exactly flattering. I was worried for a bit

this guy had it out for me, but...guess he just liked my work."

"That make you feel better or worse?"

"Not sure," I said.

"Warm and fuzzy this guy is not."

I clapped Curt on the shoulder. "Listen, Curt, I really appreciate it."

"Just do me a favor, wait until Carruthers makes his statement before you use that quote. Do all the research you want,

just don't jump the gun," Curt warned.

"You scratch my back, I scratch yours. So now it's back

to protecting and serving and all that good stuff," I said.

"You mean posing with tourists and keeping the kids away

from my Glock. And you go back to being all fair and balanced and stuff," Curt replied.

"All the news that's fit to print," I said.

Suddenly I heard a crackling sound. Curtis looked at me.

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91

Both of our heads shot to his waistband where his walkietalkie was attached. A voice came over the speaker. I only

made out two words, and my blood froze.

"Shots fired..."

Curtis grabbed the walkie-talkie off his belt. The voice

crackled again.

"10-10, shots fired, repeat, 10-10, shots fired at the

Franklin-Rees building. All officers respond."

I looked at Curtis, saw a mixture of fear and determination in his eyes. "That's--"

"Four blocks from here."

Curtis turned and sprinted down the street, pedestrians

parting, holding their children and backing against the wall.

I had no choice. I sprinted after him.

16

I followed Curt Sheffield like a running back wisely trailing

a bruising fullback. Oxygen burned in my lungs, and I felt my

side tickle right below the scar where one year ago my perforated lung had to be inflated. Fear gripped me, my heart

hammering.
Shots fired.
Why the hell was I running
toward

the shots? I heard sirens in the distance. Screams loud enough

to be heard over them. Men and women were running past

me. We were swimming against a terrified tide. And I saw one

man run by, blood staining his shirt.