49 #DeadPorter

The blue lights surrounded Cliff Walker’s downtown apartment within minutes of Colin Cooper’s phone call to Captain Sorrell. Haye arrived shortly after, noting the porter lived within walking distance of the Baltimore City Hotel. It would have been easy enough to follow the old man home after he’d finished his shift.

The lieutenant took one look at the crime scene with the porter’s destroyed head, then turned to Colin Cooper, who had stayed rooted to the spot on Sorrell’s instructions. He was grinning as usual. ‘Not got the stomach for brains and blood, Haye?’

‘Shut the fuck up, Coops,’ Haye said, shoving Cooper towards the door. Haye hated the ex-cop with a passion, but he doubted even Cooper would have the balls to shoot dead a fellow member of staff then call a homicide captain from the crime scene.

Cooper decided to remain silent for the short journey back to police HQ, which suited Haye fine. Captain Sorrell was already waiting for them in the interview room. He began the proceedings before Cooper had even taken his chair.

‘Lawyer?’ Sorrell asked.

‘Depends on what you have to say,’ Cooper shrugged.

‘What were you doing in Cliff Walker’s apartment?’ Sorrell said, getting straight to the point.

‘Well, I know you fellas think I’m head of some prostitution cartel, but that doesn’t pay so well, so my day job is head of security for the Baltimore City Hotel, in case you fucking forgot. Old Cliff lives alone. When he misses a shift for the first time in a hundred years or whatever, it’s my job to check it out,’ Cooper explained.

‘Sounds feasible. Okay, let’s move on. Give me the hooker’s name. Now,’ Sorrell demanded.

‘I’m a fucking ex-detective. Don’t you think I’ve asked her everything already? She was paid in cash by the guy wearing the hat. He kept it on inside the room. He had the lights out. She saw nothing. Believe me, I’ve gone over it a hundred times with her. There’s nothing more to ask,’ Cooper insisted.

‘There’s always more to ask. Her name or else,’ Sorrell warned.

Cooper smirked. ‘Or else what, captain? I thought the days of beating on suspects was long gone. That’s why I left.’

‘Talking of which,’ Haye said, chucking several sheets of paper stapled together onto the desk in front of them, ‘this is a sworn affidavit from TP. Says you beat on him while he was cuffed. You really are a lying scumbag, Coops.’

Cooper flicked through the pages quickly, before coming to Tre Paul Beckett’s signature and scoffed, ‘Who’s gonna take the word of some yo, with convictions as long as his arm, over a former cop with an unblemished record? You guys are pathetic. You’ve shot your load. Time for my lawyer now,’ Cooper said, leaning back and crossing his arms.

Outside the room, Sorrell kicked a wall in frustration. ‘That is the most stubborn bastard that ever walked God’s earth. He’d rather face certain death in jail than give us her goddamn name.’

Sorrell buried his head in his hands before sighing loudly, ‘Okay, just let him go, Haye. This is getting insane. Tonight, I’m gonna need a beer. A lot of beer.’