A dark blue evacuation of fired-up cops was pouring out of the 19th Precinct when they arrived at it. Without pausing, Gannon maneuvered around them as he tugged at Ruby’s hand, leading her straight in up the steps of the old ornate stone building.
In through the front door, a full-figured cop grabbed at Gannon as he was halfway through the worn vestibule. He was a puffy, pale uniformed sergeant with a pockmarked face. Gannon looked at the man’s eyes through his thick glasses.
“Jimmy Farina,” Gannon said, smiling widely. “You gotta be kidding me.”
“Hey, Mickey. Kidding me? What the hell? Is that really you?” the cop said.
“Hey, hon,” Gannon said to Ruby. “You know who this is? It’s Jimmy Farina, an old boss from my days on the West Side.”
Ruby stood wide-eyed and managed a smile.
“What the hell, Mick? You back now?” Farina said.
“Yeah, Sarge. I’m back. Not a moment too soon, it looks like. What the hell’s going on here? You need any help? This a fire drill?”
“Yeah, I’ll say. It’s a shots-fired drill. Only it’s not a drill. There just was a shooting at the college around the corner. Somebody with a damn machine gun, they said. I heard it myself there at the desk or I wouldn’t even have believed it. Believe this shit? Probably some Columbine deal with these nutjob blue-hair college kids. It’s just all-out pandemonium these days. ESU is on the way.”
“Crazy, man. Wow. Maybe you should retire, too, huh? Before it’s too late. Hey, is my boy Danny up there?” Gannon said, sliding past him.
“Yeah, Stick’s up there minding the store,” Farina said, looking at Ruby approvingly as Gannon pulled her with him.
“Doing well for yourself, huh, Mickey?” Farina said, giving him an A-OK sign with his fingers. “When you get back?”
“While ago,” Gannon lied, hoping his voice didn’t sound bizarre. “Been back for a bit.”
“We should go out for a Guinness,” Farina said.
“If you’re buying. I’m a pensioner now, remember?” Gannon said, grinning like a fool.
“Mike? Is that you?” Stick said from his office doorway as Gannon finally got up the stairs and came through the detective room door. “What in the stone-cold hell are you doing here?”
Gannon brought Ruby past the empty cubicles into the office and sat her down on Stick’s couch.
“And this is?” Stick said.
“Close the door, Stick,” Gannon said, looking down at the floor, his mind racing.
“What?”
“Close the damn door, Stick,” Gannon said, looking at him.
“What is it?” Stick said as he closed the door. “Which one of you smells like a mattress fire? What the hell, Mick? What’s going on?”
“We’ve got a bit of a situation,” Gannon said.