Bread (87th Precinct) by Ed McBain Read Free Book Online Page A

fence? He would not have risked climbing it in broad daylight. The only answer was that Reardon had let him in. Which meant one of two things: either Reardon had known him and trusted him, or else the killer had presented himself as someone with good and valid reasons for being let inside.
    Just inside the entrance door, Carella found two spent 9-mm cartridge cases, and left them right where they were for the moment. He went to the wall phone and dialed the precinct. He told Lieutenant Byrnes that he’d left Frank Reardon at approximately 1:30 that afternoon, and had returned to the warehouse not ten minutes ago to find him dead. The lieutenant advised Carella to stay there until the Homicide boys, the man from the ME’s office, the lab technicians, and the police photographer arrived,which Carella would have done anyway. He asked if Hawes was back from Logan yet, and the lieutenant switched him over to the squadroom outside.
    “Get anything up at Grimm’s house?” Carella asked.
    “Just one thing that may or may not be important,” Hawes said. “There were no lights on until just before the fire.”
    “That may tie in with what I found here.”
    “You think it’s the old electric-bulb gimmick?”
    “Could be,” Carella said. “I’ve also got a bottle that may or may not have chloral hydrate in it, a pair of spent 9-mm cartridge cases…”
    “Oh-oh,” Hawes said.
    “Right. We’ve got a homicide, Cotton.”
    “Who?”
    “Frank Reardon, day watchman here at the warehouse.”
    “Any idea why?”
    “Probably to shut him up. It’s my guess he doctored the booze the night watchmen would be drinking. Do me a favor and run a routine check on him, will you?”
    “Right. When’re you coming back here?”
    “The loot’s contacting the clean-up boys now,” Carella said. “Knowing them, I’ll be here at least another hour. One more thing you can do while I’m gone.”
    “What’s that?”
    “Run a check on Roger Grimm, too. If this was an inside job…”
    “Got you.”
    “I’ll see you later. Few things I’ve got to tag and bag before the mob arrives.”
    “Take your time. It’s very quiet up here right now.”
    It was not quiet when Carella got back to the squadroom at a quarter to six. Detectives Meyer and Brown had already comein to relieve the skeleton team, and they were busy in the corner of the room, yelling at a young man who sat with his right wrist handcuffed to a leg of the metal desk. Hawes was sitting at his own desk, oblivious of the noisy confrontation going on behind him. He looked up when Carella came through the gate.
    “I’ve been waiting for you,” he said.
    “So do you want a lawyer or don’t you?” Brown shouted.
    “I don’t know,” the young man said. “Tell me my rights again.”
    “Jeee-sus Christ !” Brown exploded.
    “Took a little longer than I expected,” Carella said.
    “As usual,” Hawes said. “Who’d Homicide send over? Monoghan and Monroe?”
    “They’re on vacation. These were two new guys, never saw them before. What’d you get from the IS?”
    Meyer Meyer, hitching up his trousers, walked over to Hawes’s desk. He was a burly man with china-blue eyes and a bald pate, which he mopped now with his handkerchief as he sat on the edge of the desk. “Explained his rights four times,” he said. He held up his right hand like an Indian war bonnet. “ Four goddamn times, can you imagine it? He still can’t make up his mind.”
    “Screw him,” Hawes said. “ Don’t tell him his rights.”
    “Yeah, sure,” Meyer said.
    “What’d he do?” Carella asked.
    “Smash-and-grab. A jewelry store on Culver Avenue. Caught him with six wristwatches in his pocket.”
    “So what’s with the rights? You’ve got him cold. Book him and ship him out.”
    “No, we want to ask him some questions,” Meyer said.
    “What about?”
    “He was carrying two decks of heroin. We’d like to know how he got them.”
    “Same way as anybody else,” Hawes said.