under the wall. “Yeah, if this was the entry, shoulda been some kind of stuff on the floor. Or if it came through the window, some glass.”
A faint scraping noise emanated from the hole in the wall. Both men stepped around the large leather couch and peered in. They could see nothing at first. Then a chunk of material was yanked from the hole on the other side, and they saw the jowly face of the police sergeant looking back at them.
“This damned thing goes all the way into this office,” said the cop. “And damned if it don’t keep goin’!”
They both strode past the patrolman assigned to guard the office and found their way through the hallway to the next room, where a photocopier stood beside large metal racks holding sealed reams of copy paper. Sure enough, the hole had come through the wall, and even burrowed cleanly through the paper reams and out the other side. The small room was awash with paper, which also clogged the hole in the opposite wall. Gaston instructed three patrolmen to help them trace the path of the hole through the building, removing debris that had apparently been sucked into the hole.
Soon, they returned to the original office and were peering through the hole in the wall. Now it showed — except for some bits of material the patrolmen couldn’t remove — a distant dark circle that appeared to lead to the outside.
“Jesus,” whispered Cameron excitedly. “All the damn way through the building! Okay, that’s ballistics!”
“Let’s get some angles. Let’s get some sizes. And let’s shoot the scene.” Gaston had backed up to the middle of the room and was staring at one hole, then another, lost in thought.
“Yeah, sure, Ralph. You stand there and think, I’ll go and get the tools. I got to get the tools. The black man got to get the tools, because the white boy, he got to think. The Twinkie can’t get the damn tools.”
Ralph smiled slightly. It was an old joke between them.
“’Yup. That’s about it,” he said and went back to his thinking.
Cameron left the room and in the outer offices opened their cases full of equipment. Actually, he always got the tools, because Ralph never could remember to bring everything. Ralph was always too involved in reconstructing what had happened. But then Ralph always packed the tools when they were done, because the methodical criminalist put everything back right, so Cameron could find it again. They’d been a good team all these years.
The patrolman watched as Cameron opened the cases to reveal the orderly set of tools and camera equipment. He began to select measuring tapes, string, a protractor and three- D still and video cameras.
“This is screwy, huh?” asked the large red-haired cop.
“Yeah,” said Cameron as he checked the camera. “Looks like we got an all-nighter here.”
“Never saw anything like this at home.” The patrolman leaned his beefy shoulder against the door frame.
“Where’s home?” Cameron wasn’t really interested, but he sensed an opportunity coming along. He began laying out more tools from another case.
“Just moved from Mississippi,” continued the burly cop. “Never saw this kinda thing. San Francisco. Jesus. Screwy stuff. Screwy people. Like, I never saw so many gays.” Cameron grunted. The cop took Cameron’s response as a sign that the conversation could continue. He leaned over confidentially. “That guy, for instance …” He waved his hand at the direction of Gaston, who was reaching into the hole in the wall. “… I hear he’s gay. That true?”
“Just don’t bend over around him, you’ll be okay.”
The cop chuckled nervously. He wasn’t sure whether it was a joke or not. “You guys partners?”
“Yeah. Nine years.”
The cop raised his eyebrows, realizing that he might have made a mistake in raising the question.
“Uh … you … uh … friends?”
“Sure, but not real close in that way. I’m married.”
The cop breathed a subtle sigh of
A faint scraping noise emanated from the hole in the wall. Both men stepped around the large leather couch and peered in. They could see nothing at first. Then a chunk of material was yanked from the hole on the other side, and they saw the jowly face of the police sergeant looking back at them.
“This damned thing goes all the way into this office,” said the cop. “And damned if it don’t keep goin’!”
They both strode past the patrolman assigned to guard the office and found their way through the hallway to the next room, where a photocopier stood beside large metal racks holding sealed reams of copy paper. Sure enough, the hole had come through the wall, and even burrowed cleanly through the paper reams and out the other side. The small room was awash with paper, which also clogged the hole in the opposite wall. Gaston instructed three patrolmen to help them trace the path of the hole through the building, removing debris that had apparently been sucked into the hole.
Soon, they returned to the original office and were peering through the hole in the wall. Now it showed — except for some bits of material the patrolmen couldn’t remove — a distant dark circle that appeared to lead to the outside.
“Jesus,” whispered Cameron excitedly. “All the damn way through the building! Okay, that’s ballistics!”
“Let’s get some angles. Let’s get some sizes. And let’s shoot the scene.” Gaston had backed up to the middle of the room and was staring at one hole, then another, lost in thought.
“Yeah, sure, Ralph. You stand there and think, I’ll go and get the tools. I got to get the tools. The black man got to get the tools, because the white boy, he got to think. The Twinkie can’t get the damn tools.”
Ralph smiled slightly. It was an old joke between them.
“’Yup. That’s about it,” he said and went back to his thinking.
Cameron left the room and in the outer offices opened their cases full of equipment. Actually, he always got the tools, because Ralph never could remember to bring everything. Ralph was always too involved in reconstructing what had happened. But then Ralph always packed the tools when they were done, because the methodical criminalist put everything back right, so Cameron could find it again. They’d been a good team all these years.
The patrolman watched as Cameron opened the cases to reveal the orderly set of tools and camera equipment. He began to select measuring tapes, string, a protractor and three- D still and video cameras.
“This is screwy, huh?” asked the large red-haired cop.
“Yeah,” said Cameron as he checked the camera. “Looks like we got an all-nighter here.”
“Never saw anything like this at home.” The patrolman leaned his beefy shoulder against the door frame.
“Where’s home?” Cameron wasn’t really interested, but he sensed an opportunity coming along. He began laying out more tools from another case.
“Just moved from Mississippi,” continued the burly cop. “Never saw this kinda thing. San Francisco. Jesus. Screwy stuff. Screwy people. Like, I never saw so many gays.” Cameron grunted. The cop took Cameron’s response as a sign that the conversation could continue. He leaned over confidentially. “That guy, for instance …” He waved his hand at the direction of Gaston, who was reaching into the hole in the wall. “… I hear he’s gay. That true?”
“Just don’t bend over around him, you’ll be okay.”
The cop chuckled nervously. He wasn’t sure whether it was a joke or not. “You guys partners?”
“Yeah. Nine years.”
The cop raised his eyebrows, realizing that he might have made a mistake in raising the question.
“Uh … you … uh … friends?”
“Sure, but not real close in that way. I’m married.”
The cop breathed a subtle sigh of
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