Cop Hater by Ed McBain Read Free Book Online

with them sandwiches.'
    "'So what?' the first guy says.
    "'You married?' the second guy asks.
    "'Yes, I'm married."
    "The second guy shakes his head. 'How long you been married?"
    "Ten years," the first guy says.
    "'And your wife still doesn't know what kind of sandwiches you like?'
    'The first guy points his finger up at the guy above him and yells, "Listen, you son of a bitch, leave my wife out of this. I made those goddamn sandwiches myself!'"
    Carella burst out laughing, almost choking on his coffee. Bush stared at Foster dead-panned.
    "I still don't get it," Bush said. "What's so funny about a guy married ten years whose wife doesn't know what kind of sandwiches he likes? That's not funny. That's a tragedy."
    "He made the sandwiches himself," Foster said.
    "So then it's a psycho joke. Psycho jokes don't appeal to me. You got to be nuts to appreciate a psycho joke."
    "I appreciate it," Carella said.
    "So? That proves my point," Bush answered.
    "Hank didn't get enough sleep," Carella said to Foster. Foster winked.
    "I got plenty of sleep," Bush said.
    "Ah-ha," Carella said. "Then that explains it."
    "What the hell do you mean by that?" Bush said, annoyed.
    "Oh, forget it. Drink your coffee."
    "A man doesn't get a joke, right away his sex life gets dragged in. Do I ask you how much sleep you get or don't get?"
    "No," Carella said.
    "Okay. Okay."
    One of the patrolmen walked into the Squad Room. "Desk sergeant asked me to give you this," he said. "Just came up from Downtown."
    "Probably that Coroner's report," Carella said, taking the manila envelope. "Thanks."
    The patrolman nodded and went out. Carella opened the envelope.
    "Is it?" Foster asked.
    "Yeah. Something else, too." He pulled a card from the envelope. "Oh, report on the slugs they dug out of the theatre booth."
    "Let's see it," Hank said.
    Carella handed him the card.
     
    BULLET
    Calibre:   .45       Weight:   230 grms.     Twist:    16L     No. of Grooves:   6
    Deceased:    Michael Reardon     Date:   July 24
    Remarks:   Remington bullet taken from wooden booth behind body of Michael Reardon .
    "Argh, so what does it tell us?" Bush said, still smarting from the earlier badinage.
    "Nothing," Carella answered, "until we get the gun that fired it."
    "What about the Coroner's report?" Foster asked.
    Carella slipped it out of the envelope.
     
    CORONER'S PRELIMINARY AUTOPSY REPORT
    MICHAEL REARDON
    Male, apparent age 42; chronological age 38. Approximate weight 210 pounds; height 28.9 cm.
    Gross Inspection
    HEAD: 1.0 x 1.25 cm circular perforation visible 3.1 centimeters laterally to the left of external occipital protuberance (inion). Wound edges slightly inverted. Flame zone and second zone reveal heavy embedding of powder grains. A number 22 catheter inserted through the wound in the occipital region of the skull transverses ventrally and emerges through the right orbit Point of emergence has left a gaping rough-edged wound measuring 3.7 centimeters in diameter.
    There is a second perforation located 6.2 centimeters laterally to the left of the tip of the right mastoid process of the temporal bone, measuring 1.0 x 1.33 centimeters. A number 22 catheter inserted through this second wound passes anteriorly and ventrally and emerges through a perforation measuring approximately 3.5 centimeters in diameter through the right maxilla. The edges of the remaining portion of the right maxilla are splintered.
    BODY: Gross inspection of remaining portion of body is negative for demonstrable pathology.
    REMARKS: On craniotomy with brain examination, there is evidence of petechiae along course of projectile; small splinters of cranial bone are embedded within the brain substance.
    MICROSCOPIC: Examination of brain reveals minute petechiae as well as bone substance within brain matter. Microscopic examination of brain tissue is essentially negative for pathology.
     
     
    "He did a good job, the bastard," Foster said. "Yeah," Bush answered.
    Carella