Tradition of Deceit by Kathleen Ernst

shot in the back of the head at close range.”
    â€œWhy are you saying that he screwed up?”
    Malloy’s gaze skewered Roelke to his chair. Roelke remembered something Malloy had taught his trainees: Always look bad guys in the right eye. If they’re right-handed—and most of ’em are—it’s their dominant eye. You can stare ’em down that way . It took every ounce of Roelke’s control to not look away.
    Finally Malloy said, “I believe my exact words were, ‘Almirez may have been too trusting’. ”
    â€œRick was always careful—”
    â€œAnd I imagine you’ve heard he missed a mark and was found drinking in a tavern.”
    Damn. Roelke had assumed that Dobry hadn’t told anyone exactly where he found Rick.
    â€œThis,” Malloy was saying, “was after he attended a wedding reception, where I imagine he had one or two cold ones. Just how careful do you suppose he was at 3:45 in the Goddamn morning after all that celebrating?”
    Roelke thought of something he should have considered before. Rick had gotten engaged right before starting his shift. If there was ever a time he might …
    No . Roelke’s right knee began pumping. “Rick was a good cop.”
    â€œDamn straight. But your friend made a mistake. Have you ever made a mistake on duty, McKenna?”
    Roelke gripped the arms of his chair. Short answer: Yes. Too many to count. A few qualified as monumental.
    â€œBeing a cop means making a million decisions every day. Some you make in a split second, like reacting if someone you trust pulls a gun. Some you think about, like drinking on the job. Sometimes even good cops make mistakes. I have, you have, Almirez did.”
    â€œI don’t think Rick—”
    â€œShut up, McKenna. It’s my job to call things straight. A good cop is dead. The chief and the mayor and all my guys got blood in their eyes. The rookies are shook up. Rick Almirez is a fallen hero, but if mistakes were made, I’ve got to say so. Stupidass mistakes can get you killed out there. This is a reminder for everybody else. I’ve got to protect the living.”
    Roelke opened his mouth, shut it again.
    Malloy leaned forward. “Officer McKenna, I know that you and Almirez were tight. I know you want to charge out there and help nail the asshole who shot a cop. Well, you can’t.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œWe’re going to do this, but we’re going to do it right, and you ”—Malloy jabbed a finger toward Roelke’s chest—“don’t even work here anymore.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œYour friend got killed. That ain’t easy, but sometimes it comes with the job. So do us both a favor and go home.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œGo home , McKenna. A full investigation has been launched. We’ll find the bastard who did this. Right now, I’ve got nothing else for you. What I do have is a funeral to plan. So I’ll ask one more time. Do you want to be a pallbearer?”
    Roelke tried to stare Malloy down, sending a mental message: I’m not that kid you ordered to clean the squad car. And I’ve helped out on a homicide investigation or two.
    Malloy stared back.
    â€œYeah,” Roelke finally said. “I do want to be a pallbearer.”
    â€œI’ll be in touch, then.” Malloy picked up the receiver on his desk phone and began dialing. Translation: You are dismissed.
    Roelke left the office. He left the building.
    He also left Malloy’s brick wall behind. The sergeant had said his piece. Most of it even made sense. But I’ll be damned, Roelke thought, before I drive back to Eagle and twiddle my thumbs, waiting by the phone for news.
    Rick’s sardonic voice echoed in his mind: Don’t be a dumbass, Mc-
Kenna .
    â€œYou’d do the same for me,” Roelke muttered and headed for his truck.

Six
    When the detectives investigating