S Hunter - Longevity

Meg shrugged. “It’s something you may want to consider doing before working here too much longer. You can do it from here,” she added, “and I need to get back. I’ve got my own minor catastrophe pending.”

“Wait,” Livvy said. “One more thing. This ‘private little war’ McGregor described. I need to take that literally, don’t I? That’s LLE code for a double-or-nothing, take-no-prisoners, tactical action, isn’t it? Just deny it if I have it wrong, please.”

Meg looked at the polished stone-inlaid floor for moment and then met her eyes. “I have nothing to say about that except that you catch on quickly. And now you can forget I ever confirmed it.”

“Confirmed what?” Livvy asked with a blank expression.

Meg was smiling when she turned away to head back to the office.

As an LLE detective, Livvy had access to ages and family histories for everyone in the city. She sat down on the bench with the topiary fox stalking her and tapped into the files.

Chris, of course, she already knew: 101 chrono, widowed, no children.

Agnew was only 27 chrono, unmarried and a rookie in LLE. It must have been a choice right after making grade, and it was a strange one. LLE was not considered a stepping-stone to anything. One joined it from conviction or sometimes, if one was talented but a little wild one was shuffled into it to save their career. Like Williams, she suspected. She looked a little deeper and saw that Agnew came from a working class family, naturals, and that he had excelled at the Academy. Like every other city employee, he could receive a reset annually as a benefit, if he chose to use them. He had gone in for a reset three months ago. Perhaps he was from one of those ambivalent families that wanted their children to have choices.

Best, 82 chrono, married to his fourth wife, two children from the first marriage and none since, twenty-five years in LLE. A possibility, she supposed, but after twenty-five years in the squad?

Dalton was 83 chrono, married and divorced once years ago, with LLE fifty-five years, like Chris a highly decorated detective. She was the only other woman on the squad.

Toscano, 45 chrono, married, one child, with LLE ten years. Dalton’s partner. That alone put him way down on the list.

Best’s partner, Wachowski was 34 chrono, unmarried, and the other LLE rookie. Transferred from Tactical at his own request after a back injury that had taken some time to heal, despite accelerated healing. She might find more about that if she called Bruno, discretely.

They were all possible suspects, because any one of them could have some special, hidden need for money. But Meg had more than just hinted to her that chrono and allotment were important clues. She had directed her to these records as though the information would give her a motive and a suspect.

It was Williams, Agnew’s partner, whose personal history caused Livvy to straighten up on the bench. Williams was 71 chrono and had been transferred to LLE from Homicide 10 years ago. His wife – his second, much younger wife – had recently given him a third child. His first wife had divorced him five years ago and had custody of their two teenaged children. In such situations, the Law was lenient, although Williams had had his last reset and was required to pay a substantial fine. Williams was the only one on the squad whose chrono and allotment history suggested a motive, but it was a doozy.

Putting her comu away, Livvy walked slowly back to the office. Williams’ antics had appeared almost frenetic today. She’d thought Agnew’s reaction, which mainly consisted of ignoring his partner, was that of someone who had had their quota for the week and wasn’t in the mood for more. He’d seemed in fact slightly embarrassed, as she would be in his situation. Now, she drew on years of experience assessing suspects and playing poker and thought about what she’d really seen on Agnew’s face. That was consciousness of guilt she’d been seeing; she’d bet on it.

When she got back to her desk, she spent another minute in careful observation and decided she could raise her bet. She stifled her wave of fury. There had to be a way to use it.

“Hutchins, in here,” the Chief called, and Livvy jumped.

He nodded at the door after she stepped into his office and she pulled it closed behind her.

“An IA came in to Homicide. Mickey Bedford was killed on her way to Dulles along with her bodyguard. Looks like a kidnapping gone wrong. They took the boy,” he said.

“Jesse,” Livvy said, and swallowed.

The Chief rested his chin on his knuckles and sighed heavily, then opened his palms and rubbed them over his face as though clearing cobwebs.

“You want me over there?” Livvy asked. She hadn’t sat down.

“No,” the Chief said slowly. “There was no one left behind connected to your case and if there is anything useful, Homicide will find it. I’ll follow the case reports for you. I want you working on Josephson from what we have here. That probably means, at this point, McGregor’s disappearance.

“Dalton says she’s given you enough to make you dangerous,” the Chief added, watching her steadily.

“I’d say so.”

“Do you have anywhere to go?”

“Yes, Chief, but I’d rather not say for now.”

“Go with it, then. At this point we’re running out of options.”

He continued to looked at her keenly and rubbed his hand over his face again. “McGregor said you did well with that incident with Maas, and he gave you his notes to bring in, which to my way of thinking implies a fair degree of confidence in you.

“Sometimes I hate this job. You have this under control?”

“Absolutely not,” Livvy said calmly.

The Chief snorted and then grimaced. “Good. I like my detectives to have a realistic picture of the situation. If you need anything special, go to Bruno Morelli in Tactical.”

“I’ll remember that,” Livvy said.

Timing was crucial. Before walking into The Vat on the trail of Michael Agnew, Livvy forced herself to wait a half hour. She figured that should have allowed him enough time to settle in, start on his anesthetic of choice, and meet with whomever he might have planned to meet, if anyone. He’d gone in alone. The Vat wasn’t known as an Enforcement bar and wasn’t in the vicinity of City Central, and sitting in her car, observing the foot traffic, Livvy recognized no one among those who followed Agnew in, but all that meant nothing. They might have arrived first.

Since her experience had always been that she was unlikely to pass unnoticed walking into a bar alone unless she was wearing a burka, and probably not then either, she didn’t try.

The Vat was dark and a little dingy, with the run-down ambience that seemed to suit serious drinkers and the overweight men in leather vests playing pool in the cubbies along one side. When she walked in she heard a couple of comments she’d rather have missed and everyone looked her over thoroughly. Except Agnew, who didn’t even look up.

Looking miserable, Agnew was sitting alone, in a corner booth, and paying no attention to anyone around him. Livvy’s research had shown that he still lived at home, with his parents. He apparently hadn’t wanted to go home.

“Agnew. Mind if I join you?” Livvy asked while sliding into the booth.

Agnew glanced up at her and reddened, then went back to staring at his drink.

“Do you have any Irish whiskey?” Livvy asked when the waitress appeared.

“I can check,” she said.

“No, never mind,” Livvy said. “Whatever beer you have on tap, some pretzels, and a refill for my friend.”

From the glasses on the table, that meant three for Agnew. She took it slow, finishing one beer and ordering another for them both before even trying to initiate a conversation. It wasn’t hard to let her mind wander back to when she had been so young that disillusionment this serious could feel like the end of everything that mattered. She was dealing with a very bright young man, and part of her goal was to remind him that he still had a future and work that made a difference.