2 in the Hat by Raffi Yessayan Page A

hoped to catch part of the four o’clock roll call. He needed to have the same information as the cops when he was on the street with them. In the main lobby, he punched inthe key code and took the back stairs to the second floor and stepped into the watch room just as roll call was ending.
    Connie didn’t recognize the patrol supervisor giving the briefing. The sergeant stopped his update as the defective spring on the door hissed gently and then gave way, the door slamming shut. The sergeant stared at Connie for what seemed like a minute without saying a word. It was no secret that some of the cops, especially old-timers like this sergeant, didn’t like having ADAs in their station. They didn’t trust lawyers even if they were on the same side. They saw every young prosecutor as a defense attorney in training. He turned to Connie. “You the DA I’ve been hearing so much about?”
    “I suppose so,” Connie said.
    “Name?” he barked. He had an egg-shaped head, a high and tight doing nothing to disguise the horseshoe-shaped bald spot on the top of his head.
    “Conrad Darget.”
    “Who you riding with, Darget?”
    After riding with different guys for the first few months after becoming a RIP, Connie had settled on Mark Greene and Jack Ahearn. They were the hardest working detectives in the district, destined to make Homicide. “I ride with Greene and Ahearn, sir.”
    “Fine. You carrying?”
    He had to give an answer. “Sir, I …”
    “Never mind,” the sergeant interrupted him. “I don’t want to know. You signed a liability waiver form?”
    “Yes, sir. On file with the captain.”
    “I don’t want to catch any shit if you get hurt out there. And if you are carrying a piece, don’t use it. Detective Greene, make sure he has a vest. I don’t want a DA getting killed on my watch.” He turned back to face the officers standing before him. “Everyone. Careful out there tonight. Things have been heating up. And like I said, anyone with information on Wheeler, reach out to Sergeant Figgs.” The familiar hiss and bang announced the patrol supervisor’s departure.
    Roll call was over.
    Connie waded through the officers and found Greene and Ahearn. “What’s on the agenda tonight?”
    “Shawn Tinsley. The shooter Tracy Ward ID’d today,” Greene said. “I pulled everything I could find on him. Checked his BOP. Not much of a record. Weed charges, a domestic. Everything dismissed. I pulled hisFIOs to see if any of the guys have stopped him, see who he’s hanging with. No real bad guys in the bunch, at least not according to their BOPs. I checked with the BRIC. Not on their radar either.”
    “That could be a problem. They are the Boston
Regional
Intel Center. If they start asking who the kid is, next thing you know, the whole world knows Shawn Tinsley.”
    “I didn’t tell them why I was asking about him. Otherwise they’d tell the Strike Force and half the Gang Unit would be up Tinsley’s ass in ten minutes.”
    “Not the most subtle bunch,” Ahearn laughed.
    “That’s their job,” Greene continued. “Jackie and I used to do the same thing. Won’t help us on this case. Tinsley’d know something was up and he’d lay low.”
    “Let’s hope we get lucky and find him tonight,” Connie said.
    Greene said, “I think Tracy Ward’s full of shit. He gave us Shawn Tinsley’s name just to get us off his back.”
    “And to get a smoke,” Ahearn added.
    “His story sounded too good,” Connie said. “He gave us a lot of detail about Tinsley’s crew. How they’ve been dealing crack. How Tinsley thought Ward was moving in on his turf.”
    “None of that has checked out. That’s why we’re going up there tonight. See if there’s any truth to what he gave us.” Mark Greene patted his chest. “You want to borrow a vest, Connie?”
    “Never wear one,” Jackie Ahearn said. “I hate those things. Can’t move around. I’m not afraid of bullets.” Ahearn smiled. “Connie, use mine. Get