Murder One by William Bernhardt Read Free Book Online Page B

eyes. “From Ben? Yeah, right.”
    “Well, it’s about time he gave her something intimate,” Jones said. “How long has she been—” Loving jabbed him in the ribs, knocking the wind out of him.
    “Here it is.” Ben dragged out a large oversize package, long and thin like a poster, only somewhat thicker and more solid. It was wrapped in red and green paper—Christmas leftovers, obviously.
    Christina’s eyes brightened immediately. “You did get me something!” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek against his. “You old softie, you.”
    “Is she talking about the Boss?” Jones asked. Loving shushed him.
    Christina tore into the package without hesitation. Barely a second passed before the interior was revealed, black and green and wobbly.
    Christina’s eyes crinkled. “Is it … a desk blotter?”
    Jones looked up toward heaven. “He got her a desk blotter.”
    Loving pursed his lips. “Very intimate.”
    Paula nodded. “Sexy, even.”
    Ben appeared perplexed. “What? I just thought, she’s going to have a new office, and she’s going to want it to look all lawyerlike, so she needs a desk blotter.”
    “It’s nice,” Christina said, keeping her voice even. “I really like it.”
    Ben noted that the other three were glaring at him. “What’s your problem?”
    But there was no time to explain. Before anyone could even attempt it, they heard a harsh pounding at the outer doors. “Open up!”
    Paula jumped. “Who the hell is that?”
    The pounding continued. Christina moved closer to Ben. “Someone you forgot to invite to the party?”
    Ben started toward the front doors, but before he could get there, they burst open.
    The voice returned, this time amplified by the unmistakable sound of an electronic bullhorn. “ Police! Nobody moves! ”

3
    I N A MATTER OF SECONDS , the ambience in Ben’s office switched from a tipsy gala to a surreal nightmare, a cop show out of Kafka. Uniformed officers surged through the door like storm troopers, weapons out, wearing heavy flak gear.
    A piercing white light swept across the room, blinding them. It seemed to be coming from outside the bay windows. Ben went to take a look, but the sound of the churning blades tipped him off before he got there. It was Police One—the Tulsa P.D. chopper.
    Down below, he spotted dark shadowy figures hustling around the building. He’d been around cops enough to know what it was—the SOT team (what the rest of the world called a SWAT team) in their BDUs, their Remington 7005s at the ready, forming a tactical perimeter.
    “What in the name of—” Ben eyed the seven officers now in his office, two plainclothes, five uniforms. He recognized at least one of them. He couldn’t remember the name, but he knew the man had been a witness in the Dalcanton case.
    Ben stepped forward. “What’s going on here?”
    The plainclothes cop pushed Ben back. “I’m Detective Sergeant Matthews. We’re going to search the premises. Don’t get in the way. If you don’t cooperate, I’ll have you physically restrained.”
    “You want to search? That’s it? What’s with the big dog-and-pony show outside?”
    Matthews moved so close Ben could smell his breath. “When we’re dealing with cop killers, we don’t take any chances.”
    “Cop killers?” Christina said. “What are you babbling about? There’s no one here but staff.”
    “We know.” He motioned to his officers to spread out through the office. “Like I said, we’re going to search. Don’t worry, shyster. We’ve got a warrant.”
    “From who? Judge Bolen?”
    “No.” Matthews lowered his voice. “From your personal pet. Judge Hart.”
    Ben felt a cold chill at the base of his spine. This was no mistake. They knew who he was. And they knew what they were doing here.
    “I want to see the warrant.”
    Matthews dropped it in his hands. Ben scanned it as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, everything appeared to be in order—even the signature.