Officer Down
As soon as he saw the flashing lights in his rearview mirror, Dent glanced down at the speedometer to confirm he was safely under the speed limit. Only then did he pull to the side of the road.
The police cruiser stopped behind him.
While Dent knew that some private investigators had trouble with the local law, he had managed to avoid that complication. He didn’t interfere with their business and they left him alone. Of course today might prove the exception which changed the rule.
Dent brought down his window. “Afternoon, Officer.” The cop was young, probably just out of the academy.
“Dent.”
“Have we met?”
The officer shook his head. “Mind if I join you?”
“Be my guest.” Dent unlocked the passenger door wondering whether the cop wanted access in order to plant evidence of some sort. If so, why? He was working three cases but none of them should have given the police cause for concern.
The officer sat and closed the door behind him before holding out his hand. “The name’s Lester.”
Dent shook. “What can I do for you Officer Lester?”
“Are you wearing a wire?”
“Nope.”
“I’ll trust you. I have to trust you.”
Dent shared the sentiment since the PI was alone with an armed man on a desolate stretch of road, a man who could shoot first and falsify reports later. “You want to tell me what this is about?”
“Not really but I don’t have any choice. The Chief sent me to hunt you down. He knew it wouldn’t be wise for him to contact you directly.”
“I’m on my way to interview a witness. Every minute I’m delayed, the fuzzier the memory becomes.”
Officer Lester pursed his lips. “Odd things have been happening and the Chief is concerned that rogue cops might be involved.”
“What kinds of things?”
“Bag men and drug dealers killed, their money taken. The Chief says there’s no evidence of a turf war. The targets are too random and the streets have been quiet.”
“So why does he suspect his own people?”
“Who better than a cop knows what’s what?”
It made sense. Dent was familiar with the temptations a cop faced. “And how are you involved?”
“I’m the new guy. The Chief took me aside yesterday for the usual welcome aboard speech and laid this on me.” Lester sighed. “I’m just trying to fit in and learn the ropes. You know?”
Dent nodded. “If anyone finds out what you’re doing, they’ll make your life miserable. If they don’t just kill you outright.”
“The thought has crossed my mind.”
“So what does the Chief want with me?”
“He wants someone outside the department to investigate. You’re an investigator.”
Dent stared out the windshield. “He wants me to find the dirty cops?”
“The Chief doesn’t know who he can trust.”
“And he thinks he can trust me?”
“I guess.” Lester appeared confused. “Is there any reason he shouldn’t?”
Dent smiled. “I used to wear the uniform, a long time ago. When my wife developed cancer, I needed money, and certain people were willing to give it to me if I looked the other way when they asked.”
“You were crooked?”
“The quick answer is, yes. The truth is, I only wanted to keep the love of my life alive. That’s why it didn’t go to trial. The Chief gave me the option of resigning and I did. And then she died anyway.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You can see why I’m a little surprised by this.”
“Maybe the Chief figures your experience is an advantage.”
“Send a dirty cop to find a dirty cop.”
“Something like that.”
Dent rubbed his ear. “I couldn’t keep an investigation like this quiet. The people I’d have to talk to, they aren’t Freedom of Information clerks.”
“The Chief understands the situation. He told me you that if you didn’t solve this within twenty-four hours, you never would.”
“I suppose he has decided I can simply ignore my other clients, paying clients, clients who have their own sense of urgency.”
Officer Lester winced but continued. “He’s asking for those twenty-four hours. Ferret out the corruption before they hear you coming and throw up walls, destroy evidence, take care of loose ends.”
“What can you give me for background?”
“The files are in my cruiser. The Chief wasn’t sure you’d take the job.”
“No matter what the Chief told you, I don’t have a choice. Any more than you did.”
“So I can tell him you’ll conduct the investigation?”
“You can tell him that we’re even and I expect to be paid as soon as I hand him my report. That will be five thousand dollars in case he needs to transfer funds between line items.”
Officer Lester whistled. “Going private pays well.”
“The circumstances are highly unusual.”
“What if it’s too much?”
Dent grinned. “Then you can tell the Chief to arrest me for highway robbery. I won’t take the job for a penny less.”
Officer Lester opened his mouth but finally only shrugged and opened his door. “Let’s go get the files.”
After taking possession of the thick manila envelope and driving away from the newest addition to the force, Dent called his appointment to reschedule the interview for the day after tomorrow.
While he didn’t say so to the witness, he thought to himself, “That is if I haven’t been shot for resisting arrest.”
Cops, whether good or bad, for good or bad, hung together. If Dent managed to solve this case without being killed, he would make life-long enemies. Even the cleanest cops would never forgive him.
Sure, the Chief would be in his corner. That might help a little until the top cop decided to run for public office or teach history to high school students.
Five thousand was high for a day’s work but low for a lifetime of harassment. Dent might just have to investigate transferring his license to another state and starting all over again. He knew what cops could be like.
Dent drove to the Blue Buzzard and ordered a late lunch before opening the manilla envelope.
There were about fifteen sheets of paper, laser printed, each with a photograph clipped to the corner.
Dent drank his coffee while he read.
He was holding brief biographies of area hoodlums. Included were places of frequency, schedules, and guards. Personal firearms were noted as was history of wearing protection.
Seven of the sheets had an X in the upper right-hand corner. Dent recognized some of the names. These were the targets who had already been hit.
The waitress arrived with his sandwich. “Can I bring you anything else?”
“Thanks. I’ll send up a flare when I can use a refill on the coffee.”
Dent slowly chewed his BLT. He had expected the envelope to contain police reports on the dead men. While a list of possible future targets might allow him to catch the killer in the act, Dent wondered who compiled the information.
Why bother gathering details on the dead men unless the Chief was hoping to find a connection? Nothing had jumped out at Dent yet but he would have liked to know more.
Who was the first cop on the scene? Who ran each of the investigations? Who was friends with whom, the cliques within the clique?
Were all the hoodlums killed with the same weapon? When were they killed? Where?
The information was great but Dent needed more.
While he couldn’t call the Chief, perhaps he could reach Lester to act the part of the mule and deliver copies of the police reports. Dent simply didn’t have time to sift through newspaper accounts of the killings, searching for details that probably never appeared in print.
Dent wiped his mouth, pushed the empty plate away. He had learned long ago not to even leave the crumbs behind when he wasn’t sure how soon he’d eat again.
As soon as he started asking questions on the street, the clock would start ticking. He’d be lucky if he had twenty-four hours. He might not have half that.
With cops involved, the trail could go cold and evaporate in less time than it took for a bullet to find its mark.
The waitress returned with a coffee pot, posed at the edge of Dent’s table. “Did you hear?”
“Hear what?”
“Someone killed a cop over on Old County Road.”
Old County was where he left Lester. “That’s terrible. Did they catch the people responsible?”
The waitress took Dent’s coffee cup and refilled it. “Not according to the news. It didn’t even sound as though there were any suspects. Really, when the cops aren’t safe, what chance do the rest of us have?”
“Things get worse every day. I’ll take the check when it’s ready.”
“I’ll just go add it up.”
Dent scooted his papers into the manilla envelope.
Did the rogue cops catch up with Lester? Did they know Dent had been hired and was holding this information? If they were willing to kill one of their own then they wouldn’t hesitate to waste a nosy private detective.
Back in his car, Dent called the police business line and asked to speak to the Chief.
“I’m sorry, but he’s not in this afternoon.”
“Can you beep him for me?”
“He’s out of town on a fishing trip. Would you like to talk with Captain Prescott?”
“No thanks. How soon do you expect the Chief back?”
“Not for a couple of days.”
Dent disconnected. With one of his cops killed, the Chief was probably already halfway home.
Unless: how far would the rogue cops go to protect themselves? They’d already killed seven hoods and Officer Lester. Would they risk taking out the Chief?
Dent flipped through his address book until he found Troy’s number.
“This is Dent.”
“Hey, did you hear about that cop getting shot?”
Dent sniffed. “A waitress brought me the news with my coffee. Listen, you play cards with the Chief. Do you know where he likes to fish?”
“It depends.”
“On what?” Troy was the Public Works Director and Dent once brought his teenage daughter back from Vegas.
“Creature comforts.”
“Again? In English?”
“If he’s going alone, he stays at the Crown Hotel and fishes at the nearby lake. If there’s a party of us, we stay at his cabin on Long Pond. Otherwise he takes his camper out to a place on the river.”
“I didn’t know they were restocking the Gooseneck.”
“They aren’t.”
The Chief was a widower but his late wife had been widely popular and the reason for his public support before she was killed in a car accident. Maybe in another five or six years he’d be allowed to date again. “Does otherwise have a name?”
“Is it important?”
“I think the Chief might be in danger.”
“Is this related to the cop that was shot?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Troy sighed. “Marilyn Housner. The library director. And you didn’t hear it from me.”
Dent called the library and learned the director was on vacation. Gooseneck River it was.
He laid down the telephone and started his car.
Around the turn of the century—the previous century—Gooseneck River had been home to revival meetings. While the few permanent buildings had long been razed, the clearing was never reclaimed by the wild. Kids, and apparently at least one chief of police, found a new use for the property.
Dent turned on the radio and hit area stations to see if there was an update on the shooting. He heard three different versions of tomorrow’s weather and a nearly insufferable amount of inane banter.
While stopped at the intersection of Arlington and Vine, Dent found himself facing a police cruiser.
The officer hit the lights and siren.
Dent gunned the engine and jumped the curb to bang a right onto Arlington.
He took the next right and then the first left.
Sparing a second to look in the mirror he saw the cruiser fishtail around the last corner.
Dent accelerated, let up on the gas, and then hooked a left without braking.
He slid into an open parking spot and killed the engine as he dropped to the seat.
The siren came closer, passed, disappeared into the distance.
Dent slowly sat and peered through the windshield. Sensing the coast was clear, he made a U-turn and took the long way to Gooseneck.
Officer Maloney was a bad cop and a so-so driver. Dent wasn’t surprised that Maloney was the first to be added to the list of possible rogue cops. Even back when Dent carried a badge, Maloney gave off a smell that no amount of cologne could cover.
And if Dent remembered correctly, Maloney tried.
Cindy had never cared much for the other cops. Most of the civilian wives and husbands didn’t. Even the mere mention of Maloney, however, caused Cindy to wrinkle her nose. “Don’t ever cross that one.”
Cindy would not have been happy with this case.
Dent wasn’t too fond of it himself.
He was watching his mirror more than he was paying attention to the road ahead, waiting to see flashing lights, the beginning of the end. Maloney could have easily spun some story to the dispatcher, accused Dent of any crime from attempted robbery to hit and run. Armed and dangerous. Fired on a police officer. Use extreme caution.
Getting shot by an honest cop didn’t make you any less dead.
Dent doubled the speed limit and then passed it.
He should have asked Lester for the Chief’s personal phone number but then Lester should have given it to him without prompting.
Did the Chief suspect the rogue cops were collecting information by monitoring telephone calls? Was that even still possible? Dent wished he spent more time keeping up on the evolving technologies but then he wouldn’t have a moment for anything else.
Finally reaching Old Post Road, Dent floored the accelerator. Now he spent more time scanning the road ahead, searching for a possible ambush.
The only thing working to his advantage was that they couldn’t simply shoot the Chief. Nobody would buy a hunting accident this far out of season in an area which rarely saw game. The rogue cops would have to try to be clever and clever took time.
Dent came around a corner to find a large branch blocking half the road. He tapped his brakes, started to skid, turned into it and regained control. After no one appeared to take advantage of the surprise, Dent decided the branch wasn’t a trap, simply another job for Public Works.
Why hadn’t Troy given Dent the Chief’s number? They played cards and fished together. The Chief wouldn’t withhold the number from such a close friend and Troy shouldn’t have kept it a secret when the Chief’s life was in danger.
Did Dent slow enough to call Troy back or continue driving at break-neck speed? Could he accomplish more by calling the Chief or arriving on the scene? What if Troy still refused to share the information?
Dent kept the pedal to the floor.
If Troy was involved, the bad guys knew Dent was concerned about the Chief’s safety. They knew where Dent was headed.
The Chief was probably in that hotel ordering room service, the librarian sitting down by the indoor pool. Dent was rushing to a secluded area where the rogue cops wouldn’t be disturbed during their interrogation of him. Or the burial afterwards.
Dent wavered, lifting his foot from the accelerator.
Why would Troy lie? Dent had saved his daughter. What could the Director of Public Works offer to the rogue cops in exchange for diluting everybody’s share?
Dent pressed his foot down again.
Preparing for whatever lay ahead, Dent tried to recall the layout of the revival grounds. He seemed to remember two roads winding their way in through the woods, the clearing nestled in a crook of the river and surrounded on three sides by water, nothing worth calling high ground.
Of course he hadn’t been there in years. Decades. Given the current spate of development, he probably shouldn’t be surprised to find a four-lane highway leading to a three-story mall.
Dent went flying past the first entrance.
Swearing, he slowed and pulled over to the shoulder in order to make a three-point turn. As soon as he pulled on to the entry road he stopped the car, lowered his window, and turned off the engine.
Birds. Squirrels. Something that sounded like it belonged in a South American jungle.
He didn’t hear gunfire and he didn’t hear sirens.
Dent started his car and inched down the road.
This was prime ambush territory, the road narrow and the woods thick. Dent’s gaze darted from spot to spot searching for a tale-tell sign of trouble. He drove with his left hand and held his gun in his right.
Dent paid so much attention to the journey that he was shocked when he reached his destination. There on the far side of the clearing was the Chief’s camper. No other vehicles were visible.
Dent stopped his car and slowly stepped out onto the leafy ground. He turned a slow circle and jumped when a bird took off with a squawk.
The door to the camper opened and Housner came into view, dressed in bra and panties. Dent lowered his gun.
“Stop right there.”
Dent recognized the voice that came from behind him as the Chief’s. “It’s me, Dent.”
“I know who it is.” Housner closed the camper door, mission accomplished.
“Can I turn around?”
“First lose the gun.”
Dent laid his weapon on the ground and then faced the Chief. “You’re alive.”
“You’re under arrest.”
“What?”
“They lifted your prints off Lester’s car. I know you’ve had your troubles but I never thought you’d kill a cop.”
Dent remembered leaning against the cruiser while waiting for Officer Lester to retrieve the manilla envelope. “I didn’t kill anyone. Officer Lester was sitting in his car sipping a coffee when I left him.”
“According to his radio calls, he chased you for three miles and finally forced you off the road before you’d stop.”
Dent licked his lips. “It wasn’t like that at all. Officer Lester flashed his lights, I pulled over, and he joined me in my car to tell me about your need for a private investigator.”
“What need?”
“You didn’t send Lester to me?”
The Chief shook his head. “Keep talking.”
“Lester said you suspected some officers had gone rogue, killing hoods for the cash on hand. He hired me in your name.”
“This is all news to me.”
Dent rubbed his ear. “If you didn’t hire me, who did? Maybe no one did. Maybe I was being set up.”
“Do you have any proof to back up what you’re saying?”
“I have the files Officer Lester gave me. They should have his prints on them and he must have touched inside surfaces of my car as well as the passenger door handle.” Dent paused. “I also have a verbal agreement that you’ll pay me five thousand to solve the case.”
The Chief cracked a smile. “Lester obviously never saw my budget. Maybe I could spare you five hundred but you’d also have to paint the hallways.”
Dent waited for the Chief to holster his gun before retrieving his own. “Is it possible you have some rogue cops operating in the department?”
“That would explain certain things.” The Chief exhaled. “No one has suggested the possibility though. You think they shot Lester?”
“It’s all that makes sense. He was the pawn who drew me onto the playing field. Then he was sacrificed.”
“Why frame you?”
“Good question. I’m an ex-cop. I know what’s what. I’m private which means I’ll draw attention away from possible police involvement.”
“You’re the perfect patsy.”
“The only question is why now? It doesn’t sound as though the department was breathing down their neck. Once they complete their frame of me, they shut down their own operation.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I nail the bad cops before they nail me in a coffin. I don’t think I have time to wait for you to begin an internal investigation.”
“First I’d have to know who I could trust.”
Dent nodded. “That’s what I figured. Hey, why were you waiting out here with a gun, your friend inside with her underwear?”
“Troy called me and said you were coming. When he heard about the Lester shooting, Troy called Prescott who suggested you were the prime suspect.”
“He did, did he? That’s interesting.”
The Chief shook his head and held up a hand. “Don’t jump to any conclusions. Lester’s last radio calls involved pulling you over. Your prints were on his car. I’d make the same assumption.”
Dent opened his door. “So would the person who set me up.”
Leaving the Chief walking towards his camper, Dent re-assessed the situation as he drove away from the clearing.
Everything Lester said was in doubt. Well, not everything. The hoods were killed, their money taken, and cops were likely suspects. Perhaps he only lied when he mentioned the Chief, and when he omitted who really sent him.
The rogue cops convinced the new kid on the block to mislead Dent. Maybe they told Lester it was a practical joke or maybe they told him it was part of a sting operation. In any case, Lester played his role and Dent took the bait.
Dent turned onto Old Post Road and headed towards town.
Why did they kill Lester? For one thing, it was a crime to pin on Dent. For another, it wasn’t particularly easy to turn a rookie who still believed in the sanctity of the system. Lester might have signed on and then changed his mind.
Killing one of their own was an extreme measure but this time it made sense.
They waited until the Chief was gone fishing before sending Lester after Dent with the fake hiring act. Dent kills Lester. A cop kills Dent. The contents of the manilla folder finger Dent as the culprit in the recent murders. End of story.
So why was Dent free? If he wasn’t shot trying to escape, the whole plan fell apart. The longer Dent lived, the looser the frame fit. Did they ever imagine in their worst-case scenarios that he might actually talk to the Chief?
Dent pulled to the side of the road when he realized he wasn’t paying enough attention to his driving. If there was one thing he didn’t need right now it was a minor accident stranding him out here.
They probably didn’t know he’d talked to the Chief. Would that make a difference to their plan either way?
If they thought the Chief knew, they’d probably take the manilla folder after they killed Dent to take the wind from the sails of any internal investigation.
If they thought the Chief didn’t know, they’d leave the manilla folder so Dent could be blamed for the other killings.
In either case, Dent had to be silenced.
Unfortunately, Dent couldn’t imagine any sequence of events where it wasn’t in the best interest of the rogue cops to kill him and—except for Maloney—he didn’t even know who they were.
Could he play Maloney? Should he shake Captain Prescott and see what fell out? Just how many cops were part of the conspiracy?
Dent slapped the steering wheel. He should have told the Chief whether or not to clear his name. Which would be better?
On the one hand, he wouldn’t need to worry about being gunned down by an honest cop. On the other hand, the bad cops would know the game was up.
It would help to know what the Chief decided to do.
Dent turned his car around and headed to Gooseneck. He should have asked the Chief for his phone number when they were face to face, just like he should have asked Lester enough questions to reveal the charade.
And possibly, if he had done everything different from the day he was born, Cindy would still be alive.
Dent missed the entrance again but this time he laughed at his mistake, backing up and then taking the road at normal speed. Since the Chief hadn’t really hired him, Dent didn’t need to worry about being ambushed here.
Just what had gone wrong for the rogues earlier? One cop would have been enough for Lester and another should have stopped Dent further down the road. Why had he been allowed to leave the scene? The danger of him talking outweighed any issues of a believable stop.
They could have killed Lester and Dent at the same time and concocted some story to fit the facts. Something too farfetched might raise a few eyebrows but in the end would still suffice.
Their whole plan hinged on killing him. If he lived, they were sunk. If he lived long enough to talk, they were sunk.
Sure, they might have been scrambled to respond to an armed robbery but if that was true, he would have heard something.
At the time they should have been pumping him full of lead, he had been in the Blue Buzzard eating lunch. Someone messed up badly and that was a sign of an organization in trouble.
Dent entered the clearing, saw the camper on the far side, a body laying on the ground in front of it.
He hit the brakes, rolled out of his car with a gun in his hand. He came up quickly and spun a three-sixty.
There was no sign of any movement in the woods or the camper.
Dent slowly made his way towards the body, his eyes never resting for long, his senses heightened as he probed for threats.
Nobody had passed him. That meant that either the killer was still here or had taken the second road. So there might have been a trap after all, the hunter gambling on which road Dent would take and guessing wrong.
As Dent came closer to the body, he started to give more of his attention to the camper. There was the door and a small curtained window. The curtain wouldn’t stop a bullet any more than the glass would.
Dent reached the body, kneeled next to it without taking his eye off the camper. His hand fumbled until he found the neck, searched for a pulse but it was long gone.
Risking a glance down, Dent saw that the Chief had been shot once. Sometimes once was all it took.
He stood and walked towards the camper. “Marilyn?”
She could be frightened. She could be dead. She could be the one who pulled the trigger.
Dent rapped on the door. Then he stood to the side and yanked it open.
When nothing happened, he entered.
The camper was empty.
Dent spent a few minutes searching to see whether Marilyn’s things were still there. They were. Then he got ready to leave.
First he moved behind the door and took a deep breath.
Then he pushed it open and dove down and left, coming up to a crouch with gun in hand.
He was still alone in the clearing.
Dent stood, lowering his gun but keeping it ready. He’d rather look like a fool than a corpse any day.
After pausing to pay his respects to the Chief, Dent returned to his car.
A private investigator could easily turn paranoid, convince himself that Marilyn was guilty as was Troy as was Captain Prescott. Everybody was a threat.
That was a dangerous place were investigations could be derailed and innocent people hurt.
On the other hand, someone had killed Officer Lester. Someone had killed the Chief. The world might not be peopled by devils but it wasn’t peopled by angels either.
Dent’s telephone rang. The number was blocked.
“Hello?”
“This is Maloney. We need to talk.”
“I’m listening.”
“Not on the telephone. The Bracken Motel. Room nineteen.”
“People will know I’m coming.”
“That’s fine.”
Dent disconnected and tossed his telephone onto the passenger seat. Who would he tell?
After calculating the shortest route, Dent decided on one a little more circuitous. Maloney could have been calling from anywhere. He could be around the next corner, him and the rest of his gang, guns raised and safeties off.
If there was a single lesson Dent had learned on the streets, it was that the time to relax never came. Drop your guard and take a bullet.
Lay on a hammock soaking up the bright summer afternoon without a care in the world. Learn your wife has cancer. Oops, I guess you shouldn’t have closed your eyes.
Life kicked you when you were down. It pushed you down, it kicked you, and then it drew a gun.
Shaking the dark thoughts from his head, Dent concentrated on his driving. Lester had been a stranger but Dent had known the Chief for years. While they weren’t exactly friends, in some ways they were more.
Cindy had been fond of saying, “A bird in the hand gathers no moss.” Dent never knew what she meant, and when he asked, she only laughed.
Right now he thought the phrase meant: “Focus on what you have.” What he had was Maloney.
Dent stopped at a light, watched the three other approaches.
Why Maloney wanted to meet was a mystery. Dent needed to turn the probable trap into an opportunity. Cindy’s assessment of the man might well prove the ticket.
Dent would tell Maloney that the reason Dent was still walking around was that the rogues had decided to cut him in. So as to not lessen their shares, they were planning to cut Maloney out, permanently.
The light changed and Dent continued.
If he knew Maloney, the cop would run hot until the blood of the double-crossers ran cold. Then it would simply be a matter of picking up the pieces to complete the puzzle.
The only question was whether Maloney would give Dent a chance to talk. If the cop shot Dent through the motel room door it would put a serious crimp in the plan.
There was also the slight chance that Maloney had been the one fingered to kill Dent. In that case, Maloney would know why he hadn’t completed the contract and could now try, try again.
Dent was smarter than Maloney and probably better with a gun. He had to hope his edge would cancel Maloney’s home turf advantage.
The tough part would be convincing Maloney that Dent was now a player when he didn’t know square one.
Just ahead was the Bracken Motel, the sign in pink and white neon, half the letters out.
Dent passed the entrance to the parking lot, looking for anything suspicious. Nothing jumped out at him.
He returned to the Bracken and parked next to the office, went inside and asked for the location of room nineteen.
It was an end unit, ground floor, and Dent walked towards the room with his hand in his pocket. There was no point in advertising he had a gun. Maybe Maloney wouldn’t be so fast to shoot before Dent had a chance to spin his tale.
He slowed as he came with twenty feet. The one big window had curtains drawn.
Dent quickened his pace to throw off the aim of anyone who had been watching.
Standing to the side of the door, he knocked.
The door swung open and Dent smelled the whiskey before he saw Maloney.
The cop waved Dent into the room. “Whatever you expected, you’re wrong. My gun’s on the dresser.” Maloney sat on the bed, retrieved a half-empty whiskey bottle from the floor.
Dent turned the desk chair to face the bed, started right in. “Your friends have made me an offer.”
“My friends.”
“They said that someone outside the force could be useful to them. They’ve asked me to join.”
Maloney tipped the bottle back and chugged. After wiping his mouth, he winced and turned towards Dent. “Why do you think I asked you here?”
“You mean you expected the double-cross?”
He laughed. “You’ve got nerve, I’ll give you that. Listen, I have no friends. Literally.”
“It’s just business.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Maloney took a deep breath. “The whole enchilada, it’s a one-man show, Maloney Productions. I’ve been killing creeps for their cash, the last desperate ploy of a short-timer, but I retire in eighty-seven days. I couldn’t stop before the case was closed and then I remembered you.”
“You’re the one who sent me Officer Lester.”
Maloney shook his head. “Why are they putting college kids in uniform? Lester didn’t belong on the street. He wouldn’t have survived a year.”
“So you helped him out by shortening it.”
Maloney’s shoulders slumped. “I needed someone to set you up. You were perfect. Everybody knew why you left the force. And yes, I killed him.”
“How did you convince him to go along with your plan?” Dent watched Maloney to make sure he didn’t pull a second gun out of hiding.
“I told him you were the prime suspect in the shootings and we were going to screw with your head, see if we could force you to make a mistake.” He took another hit from the bottle.
“The radio calls?”
“The kid was so excited to be part of his first big case that he didn’t ask questions. He was book smart but not too bright. Even when I had my gun on him, he was wagging his tail until the second I pulled the trigger.” Maloney paused. “And then I lost you.”
“I took the cut-through to the Blue Buzzard.”
He nodded. “I figured out later that must have been it but by the time I reached the restaurant you were gone. I raced all over town looking for you.”
“You saw me once.”
“And then I lost you a second time. I should have retired years ago, supplemented my pension with some security job until holding out until the last minute.”
“You killed the Chief.”
A sob escaped Maloney. “I was in a panic when I saw your car on Old Post. I followed you up to the Chief’s camper, shot him after you left, told his lady librarian that you killed him just before I arrived. I thought I had regained the situation but I was wrong. She’s in room twenty-four, upstairs. I told her she was in protective custody.”
“And then you called me.”
“You’re in the book.” He nodded towards the listings that lay open on the desk. “I never meant to shoot the Chief. Lester I could live with. Not the Chief.”
“The frame you built was falling apart.”
“Maybe, if I could just kill you quick before you talked to anyone else…but not after shooting the Chief. I couldn’t live with a mistake like that.” Maloney was holding the whiskey bottle in both hands, staring at the amber liquid as if searching for absolution.
Dent stood. “It’s over now. I’ll bring you in.”
“No. I couldn’t live with that either.” Maloney looked up with empty eyes. “You’re an ex-cop. You understand.”
“I do.”
“What can I say? Things spun out of control, went from bad to worse in a heartbeat. I was so close to making it all work.” Maloney cleared his throat. “She’s in twenty-four. Tell her I’m sorry. He was a good man.”
Dent nodded, glanced at Maloney’s gun sitting on the dresser, and closed the motel room door behind him.
Dent was halfway up the outside staircase when he heard the single muffled shot.