The Rock 'N Roll Detective's Greatest Hits - a Spike Berenger Anthology by Raymond Benson Read Free Book Online Page A

could eat in the back seat of the cab.
    The Sixth Precinct was located on W. 10 th Street between Bleecker and Hudson, not far from where the crime occurred. Its jurisdiction covered most of West Greenwich Village and Berenger had been there on several occasions. He knew many plainclothes detectives as well as uniformed officers all over the city—some he got along with and others he didn’t. The Sixth’s Lieutenant Detective Billy McTiernan was one he would just as soon keep at arm’s length.
    The sergeant at the front desk looked up and recognized the big man that walked inside.
    “Spike Berenger, what brings you down to our beautiful neck of the woods?”
    “Hello Mackie, how’s it going?” Berenger greeted the uniformed officer.
    “Can’t complain too much. Hey, I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been meaning to give you a call.”
    “What’s on your mind, Mackie?”
    “Can you get tickets to the Stones? They sold out in, what, sixty seconds?”
    Berenger smiled. “Sorry, Mackie, I can’t get no satisfaction. Their manager is pissed at me for something, I don’t know what. I’m sure you can get a good deal outside the venue the night of the show, though.”
    “Oh yeah, for about three times the original price of the tickets!”
    “So, just flash ‘em your badge and tell ‘em to give ‘em up for face value.”
    The sergeant shrugged. “That’s not a bad idea. So what can we do for Rockin’ Security this morning?”
    “Is McTiernan here?”
    “Yeah, he came in just a few minutes ago. Is he expecting you?”
    “No, but Adrian Duncan’s lawyer is supposed to meet me here and I think McTiernan is expecting him .”
    “He’s already here. I sent him back two minutes ago.” The sergeant buzzed the door so that Berenger could walk through. “You know where it is?”
    “I’ll find him. See you later, Mackie.”
    Berenger moved past the administrative offices and into the detectives’ bullpen, a room that resembled every police squad HQ on television and in the movies. A half-dozen of New York’s finest occupied just as many desks. The noise level was high because everyone had to speak loudly in order to be heard over the others. Uniformed officers moved in and out, picking up and dropping paperwork, while the plainclothes detectives shouted into phones or called across the room to somebody. Berenger had considered joining the police force after he got out of the army. He was glad he didn’t—he couldn’t have taken such a claustrophobic atmosphere with no privacy whatsoever.
    He spotted Derek Patterson sitting beside McTiernan’s desk. Patterson waved at him and McTiernan scowled. If the Incredible Hulk had been white and sported a red crewcut, he’d have looked like Billy McTiernan. The guy was as bulky as a toad and had the sense of humor of one as well. He also didn’t like rock ‘n’ roll, which Berenger considered to be a serious social disability.
    Patterson stood and shook Berenger’s hand. “Hi Spike,” he said. “Do you know Detective—?”
    “Sure, Billy and I go way back,” Berenger said. McTiernan stayed in his seat but held out his hand for Berenger to squeeze.
    “How you doing, Berenger?” McTiernan asked in the low, gravelly voice that Berenger liked to make fun of. “I see you haven’t got your fucking hair cut yet.”
    “And I see you must’ve just mowed yours, detective,” Berenger replied.
    McTiernan ran his hand over the flat top and grinned. “Hey, it feels good when the goddamned wife scratches the top of my head.”
    “And then you sit like a good boy?”
    “Funny. I see you haven’t changed, Berenger. You’re still a goddamned hippie. Come on, let’s go someplace where we can talk in private.”
    McTiernan heaved up his massive frame with a grunt and led the two men out of the bullpen and into one of the bare interrogation rooms furnished with only a table and three chairs.
    “So, I understand you’re working for the fucking defense, is that