Blood Innocents by Thomas H. Cook Read Free Book Online Page A

Someone named Winthrop Lewis Daniels had been arrested for possession of cocaine.
    Reardon looked up from his desk. “Mathesson,” he called. Me saw Mathesson turn away from the water cooler in the hall and approach his desk.
    â€œI got something here,” Reardon said.
    Mathesson was smiling. “Find some more blood?”
    Reardon handed him the arrest sheet. “About a third of the way up from the bottom. That cocaine bust. Take a look at that.”
    â€œWinthrop Lewis Daniels.” Mathesson said. He looked at Reardon. “Who’s that?”
    â€œI don’t know, but look at where that bust was made. Look at when it was made.”
    Mathesson’s eyes resumed to the sheet, widened in recognition. “Well, I’ll be goddamned. That puts that hophead close to the deer, don’t it. Shit, he couldn’t have been more than two or three blocks away.”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    Mathesson smiled. “Now wouldn’t that be a lucky break.”
    â€œIt says Langhof made that bust,” Reardon said. “Is he around the precinct house?”
    â€œHe’s upstairs.”
    â€œTell him I want to talk to him.”
    When Mathesson had gone Reardon looked at the arrest sheet again. He took a map of Central Park from one of his desk drawers and unfolded it on his desk. The map confirmed what he already knew: that Daniels had been arrested two blocks away from the cages of the fallow deer maybe five minutes or so after they had been killed.
    He heard steps coming down the stairway at the rear of the precinct house and turned to see Mathesson and Langhof approaching his desk. Langhof was dressed in a neatly pressed uniform, his cap blocked squarely on his head, with the badge shining brightly from his chest like a small golden flame.
    â€œMathesson here says you want to talk to me,” he said.
    â€œYeah,” Reardon said. “I want to talk to you about that cocaine bust you made yesterday.”
    â€œWhat about it?”
    â€œWhere did you pick Daniels up?”
    Langhof looked at Reardon suspiciously. “Right on Fifth Avenue. Why?”
    Reardon reversed the map on his desk so that Langhof could read it. “Where on Fifth Avenue?”
    Langhof placed his finger directly on the steps at 64th Street. “Right there.”
    â€œOn the steps?”
    â€œYeah. Right on the steps.”
    â€œThe arrest sheet said you busted him at 3:35 A . M . on Monday morning. Is that right?”
    Langhof looked at Reardon. “That’s exactly right. I’m always real careful about the time. I always get that right. A lot depends on that.”
    â€œWhat was Daniels doing?” Mathesson asked.
    â€œHe was standing on top of the stairs. He was kind of leaning on that stone pillar at the top.”
    â€œJust leaning?”
    â€œNo, he wasn’t just leaning!” snapped Langhof. “He was snorting coke, the stupid little fuck.”
    â€œOn the street?”
    â€œRight there on Fifth Avenue,” Langhof said. “We cruised right up to him in the patrol car. I just kind of looked out the window, just glancing out, you know, not really looking for anything, and there he was. Snorting right on the fucking street.” He shook his head in amazement. “I couldn’t believe it. I thought maybe this was some kind of joke, a come-on, you know, some kind of April fool type thing to make us look stupid. I tapped my partner and pointed to this guy. He says, ‘Do you think that’s for real?’ I couldn’t believe that a guy would just stand around on the street and snort coke. Not even at three or four in the morning.”
    Mathesson smiled. “So what did he say, your partner?”
    â€œHe said we’d better find out.”
    Mathesson seemed delighted with the story. “Then what happened?”
    â€œWe both got out of the car. We just strolled over to this guy — what’s his name?