P. Parrish - Dead of Winter

Louis was forced to park near the supermarket and walk back to the station. Inside, it was crowded with strange men who with their bland faces and black wingtips looked like J.C. Penney catalog clones. One corner desk had been taken over as a command post, stocked with extra phones and heaped with files. The place even smelled different. No fire in the hearth, just the stink of cigarettes.

Louis noticed Dale’s radio was not playing. There was also no sign of Dale. He went over to the dispatch desk.

“Hey, Flo.”

She looked up and smiled. “Oh, Louis, I’m so glad you’re back,” she said jumping up. “Let me get you a coffee.”

“No, don’t bother. Listen, where’s Dale?”

A frown creased on her face. “Out on patrol. Chief put him with Jess.”

Louis shook his head. Dale had no business out on the street.

“Things are not the same here, Louis,” Florence said softly.

“I know,” he said. “Is the chief in?”

“Yes, but he hasn’t come out of his office in the last hour. Want me to buzz him?”

Louis nodded. Florence paged Gibralter on his intercom and his voice came back telling her to have Louis wait. Louis’s eyes drifted up to the wall and he saw that Ollie’s portrait had been hung next to Pryce’s and Lovejoy’s, all with black bands. Four days had passed since Ollie’s death. Jesse had told him that there had been no sign of Lacey.

He felt a rush of cold air at his back and turned to see Steele come in. Steele went straight to the command desk, pulling off his black overcoat and handing it off to an aide. Rubbing his hands, he went to the coffeepot and poured a cup, using Jesse’s mug.

Florence looked at Louis and frowned. With a shake of her head she turned back to the dispatch radio.

“Kincaid.”

Louis looked at Gibralter standing at his office door. Gibralter’s eyes focused briefly on Steele then back on Louis. He waved him to the office. Louis hesitated as Zoe flashed into his head, followed by a disturbing image of her with Gibralter. Was that always going to be there now, every time he looked at the man?

Louis went in, closing the door behind him. Gibralter was sitting at his desk. His uniform shirt was crisp but there were circles under his eyes and a shadow of whiskers on his jaw. The office had a slightly fetid smell, an odor of cigarettes and body musk. Louis spotted a Styrofoam takeout container in the trash and a bottle of Aramis on the credenza.

“You have something from the doc?” Gibralter said.

Louis held Gibralter’s eyes for a moment looking for a clue in them about Zoe. Gibralter had trusted Jesse with his secret and had no reason to suspect that Louis now knew. There was nothing new in Gibralter’s eyes, Louis finally decided.

Louis pulled the papers from his shirt pocket and handed them to Gibralter.

“It says you need to continue to see him,” Gibralter said. “You have other problems I need to know about, Kincaid?”

“The future visits are routine. I can come back to work.”

Gibralter nodded stiffly. He fished in a drawer and pulled out a paper. “Now I have something for you,” he said, holding it out.

Louis came forward and took it. The Loon Lake city seal jumped out at him. It was a letter of reprimand. Conduct unbecoming a police officer, improper and inappropriate radio traffic, profanity and blatant unprofessionalism…

“I don’t deserve this,” Louis said.

Gibralter swung the chair around to the credenza and switched on a tape recorder. The tape crackled with static and then Louis’s voice filled the office.

“Jesus…Jesus…Coward! He’s a fucking coward!”

“Kincaid, pull yourself together!”

“Turn it off,” Louis said sharply.

Gibralter turned it off and the room went silent. He held out a pen. “Sign it.”

Louis didn’t move.

“Sign it or I’ll add insubordination.”

Louis stared at the letter in his hand. Quit, Kincaid, just quit and walk away. You don’t need this, you don’t need this damn job and you don’t need her.

Gibralter started to reach for the paper.

Ollie’s face came back to Louis in that moment. Ollie’s face splattered with blood and his pleading eyes. He grabbed the pen from Gibralter, scribbled his name and thrust the paper back at Gibralter, throwing the pen on the desk.

“Can I go now?” he asked.

“No. I think you need a few days in the office.”

“I have a release for full duty.”

“I don’t care what you have. I decide when a man is fit for duty.” Gibralter reached down below his desk for an empty box. He tossed it across the desk and Louis caught it against his thighs.

“Take down the Christmas decorations.”

Louis could see the network of tiny red veins around the cold blue irises. The man was cracking, just like the rest of them.

Suddenly, something snapped inside Louis. The room shifted, everything shifted. The impotent rage burning inside him was mutating into a cold anger. He realized in that instant he had made a decision. He wouldn’t quit and leave Jesse, Dale, or any other cop, at Lacey’s hands.

But what could he do? Gibralter wasn’t going to let him work the case. And now Steele was in control of the search, the arrest, of everything.

Then he knew. He would help Steele. He would do whatever he could to help Steele catch Lacey. He didn’t want to be caught in a damn ego war but Lacey had to be stopped. If it meant taking sides against Gibralter, he would do it. He would do what he could and then get the hell out.

“Am I dismissed?” Louis asked tightly.

“Get out of here.”

Louis left the office and went to his desk, tossing the box in a corner and sinking into the chair. Taking a stand against Gibralter was a dangerous move. He had to play it carefully. Very carefully.

Level the playing field. But how could he find something to neutralize Gibralter?

He glanced at the phone. He grabbed the phone book and dialed the Argus, asking for Doug Delp.

“Delp here.”

“Delp, this is Kincaid. Can I buy you lunch?”

“Sure. Dot’s?”

“No.” Louis paused. “Jo-Jo’s”

“That shithole out on 29?”

“Yeah. Ten minutes, okay?”

He spotted Delp in the gloom of Jo-Jo’s, sitting at the end of the bar. There was no one else in the place except for a drunk slumped over the table in a corner booth. The bartender eyed Louis’s uniform as Louis slid onto a stool next to Delp.

“Nice place,” Delp said, stirring his coffee.

Louis ignored him, motioning to the bartender to bring another cup.

“Where you been?” Delp asked. “I called the station.”

“Therapy.”

“Oh, yeah. How’s it going?”

“Fine.” The bartender set a mug of coffee in front of Louis. Louis stirred in three sugars and took a sip. He grimaced and pushed it away.

“Okay, what’s with the secrecy?” Delp asked. “Don’t tell me you’re ashamed to be seen with me.”

“I need a favor,” Louis said.

Delp studied him for a moment. “What?”

“Do you know anyone at a newspaper in Chicago?”

“Got a buddy at the Tribune. Why?”

“Somebody who’s been around a while, maybe on the police beat?”

Delp leaned forward. “This is about Gibralter, isn’t it?”

Louis tightened. He sure hoped he could trust this asshole. “I want to know why he left Chicago.”

“Why?”

“Can you do it or not?”

“Where you going with this?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Not yet, you mean.”

Louis hesitated. “All right. Not yet.”

Delp shook his head. “Promises, promises.”

“Look, Delp, can you help me or not?”