Grief Street by Thomas Adcock Read Free Book Online

heard some huffing on Neglio’s end and figured the time was right to bring up the short-term matter of clearance again. “This morning, a rabbi from the neighborhood was murdered, right in his synagogue no less. The name was Marvin Paznik. He was a friend of mine, so I don’t want to see the job going nine-to-five.”
    “Man of the cloth get canceled out, you better believe it’; priority. Central Homicide’s already on it.”
    “Try to persuade me that’s a comfort.”
    “Now you got a beef with Central Homicide?”
    “The squad mainly works nine to five, like I said.” Sometimes when I am talking, the inspector does not listen well. Which is typical. The bureau types believe they have heard it all, which is the department's main qualification for indoor work. Street cops know the day we can’t hear anymore is the day we get run over. “Regular murder, that’s all right for Central Homicide. But not when murder gets complicated.”
    “What’s complicated?”
    “According to the report, there were fourteen eyewitnesses. That would be twenty-eight eyes saw the killer doing the rabbi. And everybody says this killer’s only a shadow.”
    “What are you talking about— shadow?”
    “That’s what I want to know.”
    “All right. I give you today for a snoop.”
    “It’s a start.”
    “Tell me something. Hock—and I don’t mean in writing. What’s this Sergeant Becker trying to hand you?”
    “He reminds me I got wreathed. Then he tells me I should watch my back.”
    “Station house crap. You can’t take it seriously.”
    “Yes I can.”
    “Look, maybe the sergeant only—”
    “No —you look. You got wrong cops running around all over the place these days. Rabid cops like Kowalski and his fans. Here’s a flash, Inspector: the department’s full of these thugs, and anybody who reads the newspapers knows it.” I was on a tear now. “But there’s not so much to read about cop thugs going to Rikers Island with the regular thugs, is there? No. Instead you just blow off the problem by sending the likes of Kowalski to charm school. That’s some fine inspiration for all the other rabid cops. Maybe there’s one of them out there wants to give me a dirt nap someday instead of a wreath.”
    What could Neglio say to all that?
    “Maybe since you’re so quiet I should lay all this out for my friend Slattery at the Post,” I finally said.
    “You shouldn’t be talking about going to the newspapers.” Neglio thought for a long moment before saying this. *hen he added, “Not even to me.”
    “Why not?”
    “Sometimes a confidence can be reckless.”
    “You’re saying I can’t trust you?”
    “I’m saying don’t push dangerous buttons.”
    “Kowalski and all the other rabid cops, I’m right about them—and you know it.”
    “Sure. You’re morally right, Hock. Ever since you went on the wagon, you’ve been a regular Dudley Do-Right. You should relax your tight ass and think on this: when you get even with cops, it only leaves them with the impression that they owe you something.”
    Before hanging up the phone on me, the inspector wished me good luck and Godspeed. I would need it, he said, especially the Godspeed.
    So I left the station house and tried concentrating on other things. For one, I actually considered starting up with a gym sometime like Ruby was nagging me to do. Maybe some jumping up and down would take the pressure off. The way things were rushing at me lately—fatherhood, Kowalski,] department politics, dead rats, my friend’s murder—I felt like a guy trying to drink water from a fire hose.
    I legged it up Ninth Avenue to West Forty-seventh Street, Along the way, I thought about Becker's threat. I thought! about how a rabid cop gunning for me would know how to keep his hands clean.
    When I turned the corner and saw the synagogue, I; thought about the last time I saw my friend...
    ... and what he told me that day, what he called me.
    All the more reason for watching my