Vapor Trail by Chuck Logan

don’t answer his phone. But he’s probably home sacked out, sleeping off a hangover. I reckon he’s been hitting the bottle steady since you took his badge. If he’s not home, you could try Annie Mortenson’s; she’s his on-and-off lady friend, but she won’t give him the time of day if he’s been drinking, so he probably ain’t there. I’d check every bar and casino within a one-hundred-mile radius.”
    “Great,” Broker said.
    “You asked.” Mouse shrugged, took a folded sheet of paper from his jacket pocket, and handed it to Broker. “I’ll check around and put the word out. All the other poop’s there; addresses, phonenumbers, the witness next to the church, the secretary who found the body. You can reach Mortenson at home or try the library; she’s part-time there.”
    Lymon squared his shoulders, came forward in his chair. “Harry had contact with the priest. Why not turtle up, go out to his place, and bring him in for questioning?”
    John waved his hand in a downward motion. “Don’t provoke him if he’s drinking; he could bounce weird. The last thing you want is to play guns with Harry. You got that, Lymon?”
    “What did I say?” Lymon said.
    Mouse scowled. “We don’t know he had contact with Moros. We know he asked around and cleared an anonymous tip.”
    Lymon smiled, shook his head. “You guys all stick together, the over-forty club.”
    “C’mon, Lymon; you gonna arrest him because he called you a name? Where’s your probable cause?” Mouse said.
    “At least we should test his hands for nitrates, to see if he fired a gun in the last twenty-four hours,” Lymon said.
    “Enough,” John said sharply. He turned to Broker. “See why I need a certain touch? None of these guys can think straight about Harry.”
    “Aw, bullshit,” Mouse said.
    John sighed. “Okay, Mouse; get it off your chest.”
    Mouse shrugged. “We’re running scared. Bringing Broker in on Harry is too much gun. Sends a bad message.”
    John smiled tightly. “Says you . I say we eliminate Harry up front. No more embroidering his name into the Saint legend. Plus, the guy needs help; let’s sock him away in treatment.” John glared at Mouse. “You want to take him to treatment?”
    Mouse shook his head. “Fuck that!”
    “So that’s it. Stonewall until I get back in town,” John said. They all stood up.
    Mouse said, “We’ll keep it low profile, talk to the congregation . . .”
    “All six of them,” Lymon quipped.
    Broker nodded. “I’ll touch base later this morning after I call on Harry.”
    Lymon stepped closer. “You know, you might need backup going out to Harry’s. I could . . .”
    “Take off,” John said sharply to Lymon as he took the young detective by the arm and walked him to the door. Then he turned to Mouse. “When it gets right down to it, Broker is going to need a hand with Harry.”
    Mouse shook his head. “Sure, but I’ll do it under protest. I don’t go for strong-arming him into the hospital.”
    “See what it’s like here?” John said to Broker. “I got a mutiny.”
    “So hang me,” Mouse said. “Harry breaks the law, I’ll put him down. But all Harry did was mouth off to Lymon. I ain’t defending it, what he said, but all he did was say some words.” Mouse paused and said to Broker, “What you and him have in the past is your business.” Mouse turned and left the room.
    “I’m going to be real popular around here,” Broker said. “And what’s Lymon’s story? The dude is barely housebroken.”
    “It’s a brave new world, buddy. Lymon is pretty typical of the new breed. Smarter than most. He went straight from high school in the suburbs to college to patrol in Park Rapids. You remember in St. Paul, the first thing they had us do at rookie school?”
    Broker shrugged. “Sober up?”
    “You know what they do now? They put gloves on them and stick them in the ring. Most of these kids have never been hit in their life. Then they take them to the