said.
“I’ll send someone out tomorrow to pick you up,” Jimmy said.
I said good night, got out of the car, and Shep and I walked back into the house where the cat was asleep on the kitchen counter. I fed them, threw my clothes in the washer, and went to bed.
Chapter 4
I woke up the next morning feeling beat six ways to Sunday with the cat lying across my chest, not a good way to start a day. After drowning my headache in a long, hot shower, I went downstairs to make coffee. The cat must have known I didn’t want him anywhere near me. He kept rubbing against my leg and trying to trip me. I found his catnip toy still in the grocery bag I’d thrown in the trash and tossed it across the room to distract him. He ignored it, and it made me wonder if he’d gotten used to something stronger at Gyro’s.
Into my second cup of coffee, I dragged out the laptop and logged into the Citrix server to check out Billy’s info on Vincent Taney. Age thirty-four, left behind a pregnant wife named Madeline and a son named William age three, worked at a body shop during the day, had a second job as a security guard at night. He was clean as a whistle. The funeral was held at a Catholic church in Northeast Philly, and he was buried in a Catholic cemetery. Taney was a fine upstanding young man in the community, who worked two jobs to take care of his growing family. According to the newspaper obituary, he was a loving father and devoted husband. What they didn’t mention was that he was hooked on heroin and had died of an overdose. The autopsy showed track marks on both arms, between the toes, and between the legs. He was a guy with three good reasons to live and one bad one to die.
I took my coffee outside and sat on the front steps. Shep and the cat came out with me. Shep wandered down into the yard to check on a mole tunnel and do a little excavating. The cat stretched out in the sun beside me. He didn’t seem to mind me petting him.
I wondered how a dirt bag like Gyro was smart enough to bring a cat to a stakeout. It made a hell of a diversion, but then if he knew we were following him, he wouldn’t have come at all. He didn’t have the balls to taunt us, not like Carmine. It didn’t make any sense.
I was thinking about dragging a chair off the back porch and taking a nap in the sun when a car came up the drive. It had police written all over its unmarked black exterior. Philly detectives had given up on Crown Vics some time ago. This was one of the new SUVs. It pulled up in front of the garage and Izzy got out carrying a bag that looked suspiciously like fast food.
I waved to her as Shep went over to check her out. He didn’t even bark. Some watchdog, but I guess since he’d paid his dues with the K-9 unit, it was all good. I ran into Shep a few years back when he helped me out on a case. I adopted him after he took a bullet for his handler and they retired him. It turned out he was decent at checkers. We’d become real pals. He was my only family.
“Hi there,” I said, as Izzy came across the yard. “What brings you out here?”
“Hello, Bam,” she said. “I’m your chauffeur today. I brought breakfast. Hungry?”
“As a matter of fact I am.”
“I hope you like sausage and egg biscuits. That’s all they had left.”
“Sounds good. Come on in. I’ll put on more coffee.”
We went inside and I told her to grab a seat at the kitchen table. I knew she was checking the place out. Women do that.
“I’m redecorating,” I said.
“This is nice. Very homey.”
“I guess that’s one way to put it.”
“Is that your couch in the yard?”
“The sofa and I had a little disagreement. He moved out.”
The cat came over and wound itself around her legs.
“That one’s harmless,” I said, “but I can put him in the other room if he’s bothering you.”
She picked up the cat, and it began to purr. “I think he is a she.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. What is her name?”
“No idea. She was
“I’ll send someone out tomorrow to pick you up,” Jimmy said.
I said good night, got out of the car, and Shep and I walked back into the house where the cat was asleep on the kitchen counter. I fed them, threw my clothes in the washer, and went to bed.
Chapter 4
I woke up the next morning feeling beat six ways to Sunday with the cat lying across my chest, not a good way to start a day. After drowning my headache in a long, hot shower, I went downstairs to make coffee. The cat must have known I didn’t want him anywhere near me. He kept rubbing against my leg and trying to trip me. I found his catnip toy still in the grocery bag I’d thrown in the trash and tossed it across the room to distract him. He ignored it, and it made me wonder if he’d gotten used to something stronger at Gyro’s.
Into my second cup of coffee, I dragged out the laptop and logged into the Citrix server to check out Billy’s info on Vincent Taney. Age thirty-four, left behind a pregnant wife named Madeline and a son named William age three, worked at a body shop during the day, had a second job as a security guard at night. He was clean as a whistle. The funeral was held at a Catholic church in Northeast Philly, and he was buried in a Catholic cemetery. Taney was a fine upstanding young man in the community, who worked two jobs to take care of his growing family. According to the newspaper obituary, he was a loving father and devoted husband. What they didn’t mention was that he was hooked on heroin and had died of an overdose. The autopsy showed track marks on both arms, between the toes, and between the legs. He was a guy with three good reasons to live and one bad one to die.
I took my coffee outside and sat on the front steps. Shep and the cat came out with me. Shep wandered down into the yard to check on a mole tunnel and do a little excavating. The cat stretched out in the sun beside me. He didn’t seem to mind me petting him.
I wondered how a dirt bag like Gyro was smart enough to bring a cat to a stakeout. It made a hell of a diversion, but then if he knew we were following him, he wouldn’t have come at all. He didn’t have the balls to taunt us, not like Carmine. It didn’t make any sense.
I was thinking about dragging a chair off the back porch and taking a nap in the sun when a car came up the drive. It had police written all over its unmarked black exterior. Philly detectives had given up on Crown Vics some time ago. This was one of the new SUVs. It pulled up in front of the garage and Izzy got out carrying a bag that looked suspiciously like fast food.
I waved to her as Shep went over to check her out. He didn’t even bark. Some watchdog, but I guess since he’d paid his dues with the K-9 unit, it was all good. I ran into Shep a few years back when he helped me out on a case. I adopted him after he took a bullet for his handler and they retired him. It turned out he was decent at checkers. We’d become real pals. He was my only family.
“Hi there,” I said, as Izzy came across the yard. “What brings you out here?”
“Hello, Bam,” she said. “I’m your chauffeur today. I brought breakfast. Hungry?”
“As a matter of fact I am.”
“I hope you like sausage and egg biscuits. That’s all they had left.”
“Sounds good. Come on in. I’ll put on more coffee.”
We went inside and I told her to grab a seat at the kitchen table. I knew she was checking the place out. Women do that.
“I’m redecorating,” I said.
“This is nice. Very homey.”
“I guess that’s one way to put it.”
“Is that your couch in the yard?”
“The sofa and I had a little disagreement. He moved out.”
The cat came over and wound itself around her legs.
“That one’s harmless,” I said, “but I can put him in the other room if he’s bothering you.”
She picked up the cat, and it began to purr. “I think he is a she.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. What is her name?”
“No idea. She was
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