Night Work by Steve Hamilton Read Free Book Online Page B

was with me that night, in fact, at my bachelor party. He hadn’t paced himself as well as I did. By the time we got to the strip club, he was already passed out in the car. Now, for the past two years he’d been calling down to the Westchester Police Department at least once a week, trying to find out why the investigation hadn’t gone anywhere. He’d been making a real nuisance of himself, this loud, stubborn detective from up the river. Another reason he was my best friend in the world.
    “We had a nice dinner,” I said. “Very nice.”
    “Come on, spill it. Did you have breakfast, too?”
    I laughed. “Howie, come on.”
    “Just tell me. Was there meaningful physical contact?”
    “Was there what?”
    He’s trying too hard, I thought. He’s trying to make me sound like a normal guy going out on a normal date.
    “You know,” he said. “Something beyond shaking hands, a kiss on the cheek …”
    “Yes, okay? There was some amount of meaningful physical contact.”
    “Hot damn. How come I never get good blind dates?”
    “You’re married, Howie.”
    “No, I mean back in the day. When my blind dates opened the door, I usually screamed and ran.”
    “I think you’re remembering it backwards,” I said. “What’s going on at the station?”
    “It’s pretty quiet right now. But you never know.”
    “I’m gonna go take a run at a kid pretty soon. I’ll talk to ya later, okay?”
    “You gonna be at your usual spot tonight?”
    “I might be.” Meaning absolutely yes. Sunday night was the one time all week I’d go to the Shamrock and have a few.
    “Maybe I’ll stop by. You can tell me more.”
    “Elaine will love that.”
    “She’ll be fine if she knows I’m with you.”
    “Okay, so maybe I’ll see you.”
    “When are you gonna go out with Marlene again?”
    “Soon. I hope.”
    “When am I gonna meet her?”
    “Never. I hope.”
    “You’re a funny man, JT.”
    “Good-bye, Howie.”
    I put the cell phone in my pocket. Trying way too hard, I thought. You had to love him.
    I saw Larry coming down the stairs again, just as I was leaving.
    “Heading out?” he said.
    “Think I’ll go pay a visit to Wayne.”
    “On a Sunday?”
    “A surprise visit,” I said. “It’s my specialty.”
    “Okay, then.” A long pause. “I’ll see you later, Joe.”
    With that, I was out the door. No costume, no cape, but I was about to become Probation Officer Man again, ready to kick some ass.
    I didn’t have to drive too far on this call. Some days, I’d put two or three hundred miles on my car, getting from one end of Ulster County to the other. I work mostly at the main office here on Broadway, but we’ve got another up in Saugerties, one down in New Paltz, one way the hell out in Ellenville. It’s over a thousand square miles, one of the biggest counties in the state, spreading from the Hudson River all the way out to the Catskill Mountains.
    Most of it’s still undeveloped. Lots of trees and open fields. It’s no surprise people move up here from the city, when you can catch a train and be in Manhattan in less than two hours, then come up here to your house in the woods. Listen to the coyotes howling at night and the bears taking down your bird feeder.
    Of course, Ulster County has its share of problems, too. Kingston’s the closest thing to a real city, with gangs and drugs and everything else. New Paltz has one of the state universities, with everything that comes with it—the binge drinking, the sexual assaults, more drugs. There’s Woodstock, of course, at the base of the Catskill Mountains, with the thrivinghippie culture and yeah, even more drugs. The Woodstock Green is practically an open-air pharmaceutical marketplace.
    That’s the side of things I see most of the time now. Every single day, I’m dealing with somebody using drugs or selling drugs or doing something else illegal because of the drugs. Sometimes it seems like it’s all I do anymore, because low-level drug crimes