The Big Mitt (A Detective Harm Queen Novel Book 1) by Erik Rivenes Page B

In fact, Doc didn’t say much of anything while I was there, except to congratulate me. Kind of strange, eh, Harm? The old man spits fire in front of voters and reporters, but in there...” He pointed to the office door. “He let his brother do the talking.”
    “He doesn’t have to pass orders to me through you.” Queen scowled. “I’ve got a goddamn meeting with them in five minutes.”
    Doc Ames’s door suddenly opened, and Queen and Norbeck watched Michael Ryan walk out. A big broad-shouldered Irishman from the second ward, he was beloved by the University of Minnesota students he engaged with along his beat. He wore a sad little smile on his face and shook his head, and a few of his friends rushed up to him to ask him what happened.
    “Now boys, it’s nothing for you to be concerned with,” he exclaimed, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead. “I’ll venture the good doctor knows what’s best for this city, and he’s decided that it doesn’t include me.”
    “What?” cried one distraught cop. He ran up to Ryan and put his hand on his shoulder. “That can’t be! You’re Mike Ryan! Not a more honest officer in Minneapolis than you! What does this mean for the rest of us?”
    “I hope for the sake of those two girls at home, Allan,” Ryan said, “that you’ll get to keep your salary. Now if you’ll excuse me, boys, I don’t feel much like lounging around here today.” The other waiting policemen surrounded him with words of condolence and somberly escorted him out of the room.
    “Holy mother of God,” Norbeck said, grinning widely at Queen. “Damn it if I’m not glad I passed muster. They’re taking the entire police force and turning it upside down and inside out!”
    “Christ, stop that smiling, Norbeck. The other men can see you. This isn’t supposed to be funny.”
    “Sure, right, yeah.” Norbeck forced his mouth into a frown. He paused for a moment, and then spoke softly. “I’d better go see how he is. That’d be the right thing to do, I figure.”
    “Yeah, do that. I’ll wait here and smoke a cigarette.”
    Norbeck slid in behind the procession, and Queen proceeded to light his smoke and boil with fury. Shit, he thought. What are they doing laying off the likes of Mike Ryan? He was a man who was respected by everyone, and even Queen grudgingly admired him, although they were opposites in every possible way. Queen got newspaper stories written about him whenever he got soaked on liquor and into a brawl. Ryan was the kind of officer who’d climb a tree to rescue a homeless cat, or scold a crook who offered him money to avoid arrest. While Queen didn’t trust a cop who wouldn’t take a bribe, he also knew that papers opposed to the mayor would have a field day with Ryan’s firing. What was especially unsettling, though, was the feeling he was having now about his own prospects. Just moments ago, he had been concerned with a promotion to Chief of Detectives. Perhaps he had been fearing the wrong thing. If a man like Ryan could go, everyone was fair game. Especially someone like himself, whose reputation didn’t exactly shine in influential circles.
    “Detective Queen!” Mayor Ames’s portly personal secretary, Tom Brown, came jostling his way through the hall, and the job seekers cleared him a path. The din of excited talk lowered to a whisper at the recognition of Queen’s infamous name, and he even heard a low whistle come from somewhere in the clusters of men. Boy, I want to wring some necks, the detective thought, as he eyed both them and the man who came down the corridor to greet him. Brown met his look and hurriedly waved his hand. “The Mayor will see you now, Queen.”
    He followed Brown to the office door, where a police officer stood guard. Queen knew Fred Connor well, and nodded to him. Connor stepped aside, opened the door, and raised a good-humored eyebrow back in acknowledgement. He was one of the few colored policemen in Minneapolis, and Queen had