The Tin Collectors by Stephen J. Cannell
Authors: Stephen J. Cannell
Tags: United States, Fiction, General, People & Places, Thrillers, Mystery & Detective, Juvenile Fiction, Mystery Fiction, Police, Police Procedural, Los Angeles (Calif.), Detective and Mystery Stories; American, Police - California - Los Angeles, Police corruption, Corruption, Detective and mustery stories; American
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Chief Brewer with his ears back, and you got some tricky 'undue use of force' statutes that could go against you. Your best bet is to see if Rags can spin the big wheel and plead it down."
"You won't help me? Come on, Dee, you're off the department. They can't threaten you; they can't get to your pension. What's the problem?"
"I'd . D o it if I could, man. I just can't. I've got no stomach for it anymore. I go down there, and my guts start churning. I'd choke. I hate those pricks worse than the National Anthem. You wanna know why I pulled the pin? It wasn't 'cause I had my thirty in. It was ulcers. My stomach lining looks like a Mexican highway. I can't put myself back in that mess. Go talk to Rags. Get him to negotiate a kick-down."
Shane stood up and handed DeMarco his half-empty beer. "Okay," he finally said. "Sorry to take up your morning." Then he turned and walked away, his shoes filling with warm sand as he went.
"Hey, Scully," DeMarco called, and Shane turned around. "Whatever you do, don't volunteer to take a polygraph. I think the IA poly is rigged. They use it to get confessions. I've had more than one case where I think I got a bum test."
"Okay," Shane answered. "Thanks for the warning."
? ? ?
Shane pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the Coast Highway. As he started toward the Santa Monica Freeway, his stomach was churning and he could taste bile in his throat. Then he heard a siren growl and saw a black-and-white behind him with its red lights on. Since he was in a black-and-white slickback, it surprised him that he was being flashed to the curb like a civilian. He pulled over and got out.
A young uniformed cop with two stripes on his sleeve moved up to him.
"What's up, Officer?" Shane asked.
"You Sergeant Scully?" the man asked.
"Yeah."
"I'm Joe Church. I was ordered to accompany you to Parker Center forthwith. Apparently your mobile data terminal is turned off."
"They get the gallows up already?" Shane quipped.
"I'm sorry, what, sir?" Officer Church said, deadpan, maybe with a tinge of cold anger.
"Why?" Shane asked. "What do they want?"
"Chief Brewer wants to see you immediately." He sort of barked it at Shane.
"Did I do something to piss you off?" Shane asked.
"You wanna follow me?"
"I can make it. You afraid I'll get lost?"
"Why don't you wait till I pull around. Since you haven't got a bar light, I'll put on the flashers and siren. It gets us there faster."
"You got a siren, how cool. I can hardly wait."
Shane got back into his unit and waited until the squad car pulled around in front of him. Joe Church growled his siren once, then raced out into the fast lane with Shane behind him.
The two police cars shot up onto the Santa Monica Freeway, heading back to downtown L . A . and Parker Center, Code Three.
Chapter 8
the Tin Collector (2000)
SUPER CHIEF
TRAFFIC WAS JAMMED UP because some jackass had issued a motion-picture permit to an Arnold Schwarzenegger movie that was now shooting on Wilshire at Spring Street. The film crew had moved in downtown, parking their honey wagons, dressing rooms, and sixteen-wheelers up and down the curb on Third, laying out barricades and blocking traffic for ten city blocks. Shane couldn't believe that some dummy in city government had signed a film-location permit that would tie up all of downtown L . A . Twice, Patrolman Church had to get out of his car and talk to an off-duty policeman working for the movie company so they could get through.
After struggling for over forty minutes, they finally drove into the parking structure next to Parker Center. They both found a spot on the top level. Shane got out of his car, and Joe Church immediately joined him.
"Damn movie has this town tied up worse than my colon,"
Church growled as they looked at a low-flying helicopter that was hovering half a block away. There was a cameraman hanging out of the side door in a harness. Suddenly the rotors changed pitch, and the silver-and-red Bell Jet Ranger
"You won't help me? Come on, Dee, you're off the department. They can't threaten you; they can't get to your pension. What's the problem?"
"I'd . D o it if I could, man. I just can't. I've got no stomach for it anymore. I go down there, and my guts start churning. I'd choke. I hate those pricks worse than the National Anthem. You wanna know why I pulled the pin? It wasn't 'cause I had my thirty in. It was ulcers. My stomach lining looks like a Mexican highway. I can't put myself back in that mess. Go talk to Rags. Get him to negotiate a kick-down."
Shane stood up and handed DeMarco his half-empty beer. "Okay," he finally said. "Sorry to take up your morning." Then he turned and walked away, his shoes filling with warm sand as he went.
"Hey, Scully," DeMarco called, and Shane turned around. "Whatever you do, don't volunteer to take a polygraph. I think the IA poly is rigged. They use it to get confessions. I've had more than one case where I think I got a bum test."
"Okay," Shane answered. "Thanks for the warning."
? ? ?
Shane pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the Coast Highway. As he started toward the Santa Monica Freeway, his stomach was churning and he could taste bile in his throat. Then he heard a siren growl and saw a black-and-white behind him with its red lights on. Since he was in a black-and-white slickback, it surprised him that he was being flashed to the curb like a civilian. He pulled over and got out.
A young uniformed cop with two stripes on his sleeve moved up to him.
"What's up, Officer?" Shane asked.
"You Sergeant Scully?" the man asked.
"Yeah."
"I'm Joe Church. I was ordered to accompany you to Parker Center forthwith. Apparently your mobile data terminal is turned off."
"They get the gallows up already?" Shane quipped.
"I'm sorry, what, sir?" Officer Church said, deadpan, maybe with a tinge of cold anger.
"Why?" Shane asked. "What do they want?"
"Chief Brewer wants to see you immediately." He sort of barked it at Shane.
"Did I do something to piss you off?" Shane asked.
"You wanna follow me?"
"I can make it. You afraid I'll get lost?"
"Why don't you wait till I pull around. Since you haven't got a bar light, I'll put on the flashers and siren. It gets us there faster."
"You got a siren, how cool. I can hardly wait."
Shane got back into his unit and waited until the squad car pulled around in front of him. Joe Church growled his siren once, then raced out into the fast lane with Shane behind him.
The two police cars shot up onto the Santa Monica Freeway, heading back to downtown L . A . and Parker Center, Code Three.
Chapter 8
the Tin Collector (2000)
SUPER CHIEF
TRAFFIC WAS JAMMED UP because some jackass had issued a motion-picture permit to an Arnold Schwarzenegger movie that was now shooting on Wilshire at Spring Street. The film crew had moved in downtown, parking their honey wagons, dressing rooms, and sixteen-wheelers up and down the curb on Third, laying out barricades and blocking traffic for ten city blocks. Shane couldn't believe that some dummy in city government had signed a film-location permit that would tie up all of downtown L . A . Twice, Patrolman Church had to get out of his car and talk to an off-duty policeman working for the movie company so they could get through.
After struggling for over forty minutes, they finally drove into the parking structure next to Parker Center. They both found a spot on the top level. Shane got out of his car, and Joe Church immediately joined him.
"Damn movie has this town tied up worse than my colon,"
Church growled as they looked at a low-flying helicopter that was hovering half a block away. There was a cameraman hanging out of the side door in a harness. Suddenly the rotors changed pitch, and the silver-and-red Bell Jet Ranger
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