Daddy's Little Killer by LS Sygnet

Johnny Orion on
the other hand …"
    "Dirty cop?"
    Briscoe snarled, "He'd no more plant
evidence than he would piss on his mother's grave.  I trained
that young man, and he was a fine detective."
    "Was?"
    "He left the department."
    "Volitionally?"
    "I ain't sure that means what I think it
means, but if you're implying that Johnny got fired, he
didn't.  He walked away with his dignity intact."
    "It was a simple question, detective. 
I have no opinion of the man either way.  I don't know him, or
you, or anyone out here for that matter."
    "Except for Winslow."
    Why he could spit out her last name but
continued to ma'am and doctor me to death seemed a bigger mystery
to me at the moment.  Maya was at least five years my
senior.  Maybe blonde wasn't such a good color for me after
all, although Todd seemed to like it well enough.  Maybe
Briscoe was just annoyed that another outsider was being brought
into his territory.
    "I had very few brief and professional
encounters with her in the past few years," I struggled to push the
bristling tone back into my brain where it belonged.  If Hardy
wanted me working with these people, it wouldn't do well to
alienate any of them until I had a better lay of the land.  "I
would hardly consider that contact enough to say that we know each
other well or in the context of friendship, Briscoe.  I meant
no disrespect to your friend."
    "I shouldn't have barked at you," Briscoe
muttered low.  "It's just that Johnny took the blame for a
whole lot of shit that he didn't do.  Folks at central
practically crucified him in the middle of the street, and to my
way of seeing things, they would've never got close to Masconi
without Johnny's hard work."
    "I take it Masconi was the suspect who
walked after the evidence was excluded."
    "That's right."
    "And where is Mr. Masconi now?"
    "Nobody knows.  He left town after his
brush with justice and nobody's seen or heard from him since. 
You ask me, his former employer might've had a thing or two to do
with that."
    "And?"
    "And what?"
    "Who did he work for?"  Precognition
tickled my brain.  This was what George meant.  That rush
to judgment.  Still, if Briscoe's affirmation was on cue, it
was a disturbing link.
    "Danny Datello."
    Bingo.
    "Do we know if this latest victim can be
linked to Mr. Datello?"
    Briscoe chuckled.  "Hell, you didn't
have to ask who he was.  That tells me a lot, Dr.
Eriksson.  But to answer your question, I'm not even sure we
know for a fact who the victim is tonight.  On account of the
fact that she ain't got a face left to identify or fingers to
print."
    "Good point.  So how bad is this turf
war going to be when you show up with another outsider, former FBI
to boot?"
    "No shit?"
    "Not even a skid mark," I said dryly. 
"Or didn't George tell you that I recently left the bureau?"
    "The old goat said you had cred, but he
never mentioned you was FBI."
    "I'd suggest we keep that as quiet as
possible for now, detective.  In the meantime, maybe you can
tell me something.  I was here for a couple of weeks several
years ago.  I don't remember it being this foggy."
    Briscoe's belly jiggled.  "Ah hell,
honey.  Fog is what we're second most famous for.  Half
the time it feels like you're living in a cloud on top of the
Himalayas.  I surely do hope you brought a coat."
    "Isn't this springtime?"
    "Yeah, but we end up wearin' gear year round
out here.  It's soggy and wet every day.  You're gonna
freeze your tush off in that get up."  He gestured toward my
spring suit, a light wool and cotton blend.  "I'd suggest
something leather to cover anything you wear.  Keeps the dew
out."
    "I'll keep that in mind, detective."
    I signaled again and wound away from the
freeway into an affluent neighborhood.  Heavy ground fog
notwithstanding, the crime scene came into view easily
enough.  Red and blue lights penetrated the haze in an eerie
glow.  All was not well on Templeton Lane tonight.  I
parked behind one of the patrol cars