19

I come in through the door meant for the public and not on-the-clock assholes like me, because getting called in on your off-day is enough for me to justify it. I don’t need to get stuck holding hands and handling shit when I should be taking Sheryl to some dinner and a hockey game. We’re new, me and her. I’m trying hard not to screw it up.

I’m surprised to see Ruiz out front looking clean and sparkly for phone duty.

“Jesus,” I say, “I don’t see you for one week and then when I do, you’re busted back to desk. What’d you do this time, Ruiz?”

He says, “It is my rep’s opinion that I should keep my stupid mouth shut.”

Jankowski’s our rep. That’s exactly how he talks.

“You know I’m just going to find out from someone else, right?”

“Better from them than me,” Ruiz says.

“Good man. Is the lieutenant in?”

“Brass meeting, downtown. Her and Kelley.”

“I see.”

“You going to the game tonight?”

“Yup. Got a date for it.”

“Nice! Panthers are gonna go crazy tonight. I can feel it. It’s in the air, Sarge.” This Miami-born idiot reaches up and grabs the air like it’s got a Florida win in it. What an asshole.

“They better not,” I say. “Gretzky doesn’t lose to expansion teams. And why the hell are you Florida people so damn smiley about your terrible hockey team?”

“Terminal positivity,” he says. “It’ll kill us someday, but we’ll be smiling when it happens.”

I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction, I just go through to the back, where I find Mirkovich and Louis sitting on their asses and shuffling papers.

“You’re not back out on the street, huh? This is what happens when the Lieu’s gone?”

“Paperwork’s not done,” Louis says.

“I bet it’s not,” I say. “Which one of you got who?”

Louis speaks up like he’s used to being the mouthpiece for the pair. “I did Safulu.”

“Which left Tavira to your big dumb Croatian ass?” I point at John Mirkovich.

“Hey.” He says it like he’s offended. “I’m not that big.”

He smiles after that. Ruins everything.

“Tell that to your mother, Deputy. She feeds you too much, but goddammit I still love her mostaccioli. How’s your sister, anyway?”

Kristina Mirkovich and me, that was never gonna work, but you couldn’t have told us that to start with. She was too high-strung, and I was too loose, but that didn’t stop us from trying to find the middle for two good years and one really bad one. The being civil afterward part, that’s the worst kind of work, and her brother knows it all too well, but hey, I must’ve done all right. He hasn’t put a knife in me yet.

John Mirkovich kicks the desk leg like he’s testing it. “Kristina actually got a promotion. You didn’t hear?”

I look at him to see if he’s fucking with me. He’s not.

“No,” I say, “I didn’t.”

“She’s an AHD on hardcore gang prosecutions now. You might even hear from her on this.”

I don’t know if it’s medically possible to get an instant headache, but I get one. Right now. “You shitting me?”

“No, sir, Sergeant, sir.”

“Your tone, Ivica.” I give him the eye. “I don’t like it.”

Mirkovich makes a face then that only an ex-brother-in-law can. Tongue out, eyebrows up, and it’s good nobody else sees him do that, because now I don’t have to pretend I didn’t see it.

I turn to Louis. “You handing me paperwork, or do I have to waste my whole day off standing here?”

I flip pages, but I’m thinking, God, I fucking hope not. In fact, Jesus Christ, if You’re listening, please do not give this case to my ex-wife. That’d be great. Thanks. Oh, and also, it’d be great if Gretzky had a hat trick of assists tonight and the Panthers get shithoused and pull the rug out from under every Panther fan on earth, all thirty-six of them. That’d be great, Lord. I’d rub that shit right in Ruiz’s stupid face next time I see him too, but, you know, God, respectfully so.

But then Mirkovich’s news is catching up to me, and I’m thinking, Good for Kristina. Seriously. She’s got the nose for HG cases, not to mention the guts. She’ll be great at it. When she has something over somebody, she never lets go. And I know that better than anybody.

To get this conversation back on track, I say, “Good collars. Might be worth some Attaboys. They give you anything rough?”

“They were waiting for us.” There’s a little heat in how Louis says it. “I think their own people snitched them out, and I think they knew it.”

The property boxes on the form are pretty bare. Neither one had a wallet on him. It scans that they planned to come in. Something interesting about Safulu’s form is how Louis noted he has scars that look like they were once punctures down his upper left and lower left arm, and also on his left ribs. There’s also one more thing about these forms I don’t like: two blank spaces in the Indexed information sections that I’d rather not see.

I say, “Why hasn’t WAD gotten back on arraignment dates yet?”

Louis shrugs. “Just waiting for the follow-through. I’ll update you.”

“Thanks,” I say. “You got anything else? I’m sure they confessed and we can just pass go and collect all their years of sentencing right now.”

“They’re hardcore, Willie.” Mirkovich has his serious face back on. “Some new branch off of Big Fate’s clique. You know, the one that killed Trouble and all them last year but we couldn’t prove shit?”

Yeah, I remember. Worst crime scene evidence I ever saw, the most unprovable clusterfuck there ever was. Homicide guys still talk about it. And nobody’s said shit, but it’s pretty much the reason Erickson got transferred too. They called it a lateral move, but it was a demotion in all but name.

“I don’t know if they’re both hardcore,” Louis slips in. “Tavira sure is. But even he didn’t like having to sit out front of Saint Francis if Scrappy’s crew might come out at any second. I think the other one’s green.”

Louis is a smart one. He’ll rise. The good black ones always do. If he can keep his head down and fill out his paperwork correctly and in a timely fashion, that is.

“And they’ve asked for legal representation, I take it?”

Louis says, “We put in the PD requests, but we haven’t heard anything.”

“Say it with me, deputies: ‘It is the policy of this Department to provide the most expedient method of communications between persons in custody of this Department and their attorneys or other persons attempting to secure their release.’”

They don’t say it with me. They don’t have 5-03/060.00 memorized. Amateurs.

It might just be my willingness to get to my date this evening, but I still just state the obvious when I say, “We’re not holding them over unless they’re eager to talk, but at least tell me Vazquez scheduled transpo late.”

Mirkovich winks at me. “I heard the bus had an engine issue.”

Louis opens his mouth to disagree but then he catches Mirkovich’s elbow with his ribs. He coughs and says, “They’re on for the morning bus, but Vazquez says we’ll see how that goes if their lawyers get here.”

“Sounds about right,” I say, and head back to the cages.