Julia Spencer-Fleming - All Mortal Flesh

The phone rang. Russ snatched it up. “Van Alstyne here,” he said, motioning Lyle to sit back down in his chair.

“Hey, chief, it’s Nathan Bougeron.”

“That was fast. Whattaya got for me?”

“It was fast because your girl has made herself well known. Her name’s Emiley, Emiley-with-an-extra- e , by the way.”

“An extra e ?”

“I think it stands for energetic. She’s been with the force for ten years now, at BCI for six. The guy I spoke to said she’s poised to become a senior investigator, if she wants the job.”

“Senior investigator? After six years? That’s unbelievable. Why wouldn’t she want it?”

Across the desk from him, Lyle was raising his bushy gray eyebrows.

“My guy says she’s got her eye on politics. She has a master’s in psych, and she’s working on a law degree. The word is, when she finishes, she’ll jump ship to some district attorney’s office downstate.”

“Huh. Well, she wouldn’t be the first to use the DA’s office as a launching pad. Does this mean that I can expect her to spend all of her time with her nose in a law book?”

“Nunh-unh. She’s a tough cookie, according to my guy. Very, very focused. Here’s the kicker: She put in a couple of years in Violent Crimes, and then moved to Homicide for a couple more, but last year she was reassigned-my guy didn’t know, but he thinks she asked for the job-to the Ex squad.”

“The what?”

“Oh, sorry. That’s our nickname for it. The External Law Enforcement Investigation squad. The guys who work with DAs and county prosecutors to take down dirty cops in departments where they don’t have an internal affairs division.”

Or where the IA department was corrupt as well. “Okay,” he said. “Yeah. I just never heard the nickname.” The Ex squad. Christ on a bicycle. What had the mayor said? You and the department need support. Yeah.

“So I’m wondering, what’s going on up there? I can’t believe you’ve got a rotten officer.”

Russ cleared his throat. “She’s helping us with a homicide.”

“Really? Huh. Maybe my guy got his info messed up.”

No. He didn’t.

“Thanks for taking a look for me, Nathan. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, Chief. You let me know if I can do anything else for you. And say hi to all the guys.”

“I will. Thanks.” After he hung up he said, “Nathan says hi.”

“Talk’s cheap. Let him drive over here and buy me a drink.” Lyle leaned forward onto Russ’s desk, propping his elbows on a broadsheet from the department’s HMO and a smear of opened envelopes. “What about Jensen?”

“She’s bright, ambitious, and evidently on her way to becoming the first female governor of New York, after a brilliant career in law enforcement and a successful stint as an ADA.”

“Yeah? Then what’s she doing sitting in our squad room, drinking Harlene’s day-old coffee?”

“Since she made investigator six years ago, she’s worked VCAP, Homicide, and the External Law Enforcement Investigation squad.”

Lyle grew very still. Then he shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. If she’s all smoked to work for the DA’s office, she’s going to need to stay in tight with the rest of us out here humping our tails to catch the bad guys.”

“Unless she wants to be able to tell the good people of New York how she brought down a crooked chief of police and the department he had in his back pocket.” He rolled his chair back. “Somebody in our department thinks I murdered my wife.”

Lyle shook his head again. “No.”

“You were the one who pointed out that I was a logical suspect.”

“Yeah, but I was just trying to get you to see-”

“Doesn’t matter. Jensen is going to tap me as a suspect.” He got up and paced across the floor. “It’s what I’d do if I were walking into this investigation. Hell, Lyle, it’s what you’d do if you and I weren’t friends.” He looked out the window. Same snow, same shoppers, same SUVs. “Let’s say you’re Jensen. Your boss at BCI has sent you out here because he believes I’ve killed my wife and I’m using the department to cover it up. You go over the records of the evidence so far. Do you find anything to rule that theory out?”

“No.”

“Hell, no. I’ve got no alibi for the time when the murder occurred. In fact, time of death was muddled because Meg Tracey left the door open and you guys never closed it.”

Lyle dropped his gaze and mumbled something.

“I’m not blaming you, Lyle. Linda was your friend, too. Everybody was shook up that evening. But to Jensen, it’s going to look like collusion. Now, add in the fact that my missing knife could be the murder weapon and e-mails on my wife’s computer suggest that she was seeing someone else when she died. You’re Jensen, with the mayor and the aldermen and the power of the BCI behind you. What are you going to do?”

“Put you on leave. Immediately, if I can.”

“She can. You should have heard the aldermen at the surprise meeting this morning. They were dropping fifty-pound hints that I take a week off.”

“It’s times like these that being an elected sheriff would come in handy. No town board waiting in the wings to hand you a pink slip.”

“Huh. So you boot the chief. But you’re also worried about the deputy chief, because he’s your suspect’s right-hand man. You can’t suspend him, though, because you need someone who can run the police department while you’re working the homicide.”

Lyle’s mouth twisted in a sort of smile. “If she knew anything, she’d put Harlene in charge.”

“You can bet Jensen thinks Harlene’s a gossipy old broad who should have been retired years ago. What do you do?”

Lyle sighed. “I isolate him. Take him off the case and route all the investigation reports directly through me.”

“Okay. So you and I can figure out which direction she’s going to take the investigation in. Here’s the tricky part: What’s she going to do in the next hour? And what does she think I’m going to do?”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know yet. I figure I have three options. I could go back to my mom’s place, crawl into bed, and not come out again until spring or an indictment, whichever comes first. Or I could figure out some way to sidestep her, so that I can keep on with the investigation. I’m worried that if she likes me as the perp, she won’t pay enough attention to the other evidence lying around.” He paused. The light was changing outside. A little more white, a little less bright. As if ice were sheeting over the sky. More snow coming.

“What’s the third option?”

“I could eat my gun.”

“Don’t joke about that.” Lyle’s mobile face was dead serious.

Russ flipped his hand to show it was open. “Sorry.”

“I think she’ll assume you’re going to go head to head with her,” Lyle said, dragging the conversation back to Russ’s question. “Once she pegs you as the prime suspect, she’s got to assume you’re going to be busy covering your ass with both hands. Maybe by hauling her back out to the mayor’s office for a showdown while the rest of us trash the files. Or manufacture some new evidence implicating somebody else.”

Russ thought for a few seconds, then pushed away from the window frame. “I want you to do two things for me.”

“Okay…” Lyle’s voice was tentative. “What?”

“I want you to get me the registration info for the license number of the car the Tracey kid saw at my house. But before that, I want you to have an accident in the squad room.”

“A what?”

“Carry in some coffee or one of Harlene’s strudels and drop it all over the floor. Make it big and messy and make sure everybody’s paying attention to you.”