up with, and I'm thinking that if our three victims were involved in any one of those, Milwaukee might be able to help us out with an ID."
"The FBI?"
"And maybe the ATF-I'd be willing to bet they both have lists nobody else gets to see."
"I take it you feel like spending the rest of the weekend jumping through flaming hoops."
"Not particularly. I was hoping we could grease the wheel a little. What about that buddy of yours you used to play poker with? Doesn't his son work for the Feds?"
Bonar clucked his tongue. "Not anymore. Poor kid had some nervous troubles a while back and had to resign. I think he's managing a Dairy Queen in Fond du Lac now."
"Sorry to hear that."
"It's not all bad. We can probably get free ice cream whenever we're in the neighborhood."
"Terrific. In the meantime, let's fax off the morgue shots and prints to the Milwaukee SAC anyhow, cover all our bases."
"Sure, we can go the horse-and-buggy route if you want. Or you could just call Sharon in Minneapolis and tell her to run it through."
Halloran pretended he hadn't heard that and started shuffling through papers on his desk. "What's the SAC's name again? Burt somebody?"
"Eckman."
"That's right. You want to put together a package while I jot him a note?"
Bonar cocked his head curiously. "You've got a direct line to the FBI, and you're not going to use it because ... ?"
Halloran continued sifting through papers urgently until he found a blank fax cover, then began filling it in with a surgeon's concentration. He ignored Bonar for as long as he could, until he was hovering over Halloran's desk like a sadistic Goodyear Blimp.
"Call her, Mike. Purely business."
Halloran laid down his pen very carefully. "Do not try to come up on that kind of crap sideways, Bonar. Sharon and I don't talk anymore, and you know it."
"Yeah, I know it, and it's a damn shame, if you ask me."
"I didn't."
"You're going to have to talk to her sometime. Technically, she's still a Kingsford County Deputy."
"Only until Monday."
"Huh?"
"That's when her leave expires. If she's not at roll call Monday morning, she's out."
That put Bonar right back down in his chair, staring at his old friend across the desk. "Jesus, does she know that?"
Halloran nodded shortly. "Official notification went out a month ago. Certified. She got it."
"You sent her a letter telling her she was out?Aletter!"
"Thirty days' notice in writing. That's the law."
"A phone call might have been nice."
Halloran laid down his pen and looked Bonar in the eyes. "This is the way it is. I've got a department to run; I've got a hole in the roster I've been working around for months, ever since Sharon took her so-called 'temporary leave,' and I've got a phone that rings anytime a deputy of mine takes the trouble to dial the number. Sharon stopped returning my calls months ago, and I got tired of talking to her machine. Now. Do you want to keep riding me about Sharon, or do you want to hear my other idea on how to ID our three sinkers?"
Bonar leaned back and folded his arms across what he could still find of his chest. "I'd really like to keep riding you about Sharon, but if it'll make you happy, I'll listen to your idea first."
IT WAS THE THIRD YEAR the Minneapolis Police Department had sponsored a Fun Fair for the Youth in Crisis Program, and this one promised to be the most successful yet. It was nearly four o'clock already, but the park was still jammed with parents and kids, and most of the cops who weren't on duty were either volunteering at one of the booths or enjoying the festivities with their own children in tow.
Detective Leo Magozzi had just finished his volunteer stint selling hot dogs in the food tent, and now it was time for some real fun. He bought three tickets for the dunk tank from a new hire out of Fraud, politely laughed at his lame"drunk tank" crack, then got in line under the bright August sun with about twenty other people, including Chief Malcherson. Tall,
"The FBI?"
"And maybe the ATF-I'd be willing to bet they both have lists nobody else gets to see."
"I take it you feel like spending the rest of the weekend jumping through flaming hoops."
"Not particularly. I was hoping we could grease the wheel a little. What about that buddy of yours you used to play poker with? Doesn't his son work for the Feds?"
Bonar clucked his tongue. "Not anymore. Poor kid had some nervous troubles a while back and had to resign. I think he's managing a Dairy Queen in Fond du Lac now."
"Sorry to hear that."
"It's not all bad. We can probably get free ice cream whenever we're in the neighborhood."
"Terrific. In the meantime, let's fax off the morgue shots and prints to the Milwaukee SAC anyhow, cover all our bases."
"Sure, we can go the horse-and-buggy route if you want. Or you could just call Sharon in Minneapolis and tell her to run it through."
Halloran pretended he hadn't heard that and started shuffling through papers on his desk. "What's the SAC's name again? Burt somebody?"
"Eckman."
"That's right. You want to put together a package while I jot him a note?"
Bonar cocked his head curiously. "You've got a direct line to the FBI, and you're not going to use it because ... ?"
Halloran continued sifting through papers urgently until he found a blank fax cover, then began filling it in with a surgeon's concentration. He ignored Bonar for as long as he could, until he was hovering over Halloran's desk like a sadistic Goodyear Blimp.
"Call her, Mike. Purely business."
Halloran laid down his pen very carefully. "Do not try to come up on that kind of crap sideways, Bonar. Sharon and I don't talk anymore, and you know it."
"Yeah, I know it, and it's a damn shame, if you ask me."
"I didn't."
"You're going to have to talk to her sometime. Technically, she's still a Kingsford County Deputy."
"Only until Monday."
"Huh?"
"That's when her leave expires. If she's not at roll call Monday morning, she's out."
That put Bonar right back down in his chair, staring at his old friend across the desk. "Jesus, does she know that?"
Halloran nodded shortly. "Official notification went out a month ago. Certified. She got it."
"You sent her a letter telling her she was out?Aletter!"
"Thirty days' notice in writing. That's the law."
"A phone call might have been nice."
Halloran laid down his pen and looked Bonar in the eyes. "This is the way it is. I've got a department to run; I've got a hole in the roster I've been working around for months, ever since Sharon took her so-called 'temporary leave,' and I've got a phone that rings anytime a deputy of mine takes the trouble to dial the number. Sharon stopped returning my calls months ago, and I got tired of talking to her machine. Now. Do you want to keep riding me about Sharon, or do you want to hear my other idea on how to ID our three sinkers?"
Bonar leaned back and folded his arms across what he could still find of his chest. "I'd really like to keep riding you about Sharon, but if it'll make you happy, I'll listen to your idea first."
IT WAS THE THIRD YEAR the Minneapolis Police Department had sponsored a Fun Fair for the Youth in Crisis Program, and this one promised to be the most successful yet. It was nearly four o'clock already, but the park was still jammed with parents and kids, and most of the cops who weren't on duty were either volunteering at one of the booths or enjoying the festivities with their own children in tow.
Detective Leo Magozzi had just finished his volunteer stint selling hot dogs in the food tent, and now it was time for some real fun. He bought three tickets for the dunk tank from a new hire out of Fraud, politely laughed at his lame"drunk tank" crack, then got in line under the bright August sun with about twenty other people, including Chief Malcherson. Tall,
Similar Books
