Blood of Others Read Online Free PDF Page A

in
Narcotics, pursuing a dealer in a crack house when he fell through a broken step,
dropped his weapon, trapped. Reggie’s partner, Ben somebody, had frozen,
allowing the dealer to shoot Reggie in the spine. The last Sydowski heard, the
partner had been reassigned to some computer-desk job somewhere and was
pretending to still be a cop. But Reggie had faded away. Seeing him like this
now, Sydowski was at a loss. The stick came out of the trash. It was a cane.
Leaning on it, Reggie seemed to take a long time turning to face Sydowski. Eyes
avoiding his.
    “Christ, Reggie, what happened?”
    “Hello, Walt.” Reggie said. “It
hasn’t been good. Not good. I took a bad turn. The POA tried to help but I got
addicted to the pain pills. Took it all out on Fran. She left me. Gets most of
the pension. That’s how it is.”
    “Reg, we didn’t know. Man, I’m
sorry.”
    “I got a room in the Loin. It’s
clean. I get by.”
    “Want to come in for some
breakfast? Coffee? On me. Come on, we’ll talk and --”
    Reggie noticed Louise. “You got
better things to do. I have to go. Walt, you promise me you won’t tell the
guys.”
    “Reg, they’ll want to know.”
    “You promise me, Walt. You do
that.”
    “If you take this.” Sydowski gave
him four twenties from his wallet.
    Reggie took them and limped down
the street with Sydowski standing there watching him disappear.
    “You going to be okay, Walt?” Louise
said.
    “Yeah. I forgot to pay our
check.”
    “I took care of it. Just when you
left, the waitress said your lieutenant is trying to reach you.”
    “Leo? But I got my new cell phone
--”
    An older unmarked Caprice Classic
screeched to a halt, double-parked in front of Nick’s. Dash cherry revolving.
    Inspector Linda Turgeon got out.
Ponytail bouncing, the jacket of her powder-blue pantsuit flapping, revealing
her shoulder holstered gun as she rushed to Sydowski.
    “Got him, Leo,” Turgeon said into
the phone pressed to her ear while reaching into Sydowski’s shirt pocket for
his bifocals, snapping them open, slipping them on his head. “Leo. I have showed him how to use his new one.” Turgeon reached into Sydowski’s jacket
pocket, fished out his slim cell phone. “We’re on our way, Leo.” She snapped
her phone shut, held Sydowski’s before his face, tapping her glossed fingernail
on a small green button.
    “This is the on button
Walt. Press it when you’re on duty.”
    Sydowski studied his new phone
through his glasses. “Thought I had it on.”
    “Get in. We caught one at Union
Square.”
    “Call me later.” Louise raised
her voice.
    The car doors slammed and its
tires squealed. Sydowski returned Louise’s wave as the Chevy disappeared in traffic.
    “Your honey back there is a
fine-looking woman.” Turgeon took Seventh, grabbed the car’s radio mike to tell
the district units they were coming. “Too good for you.” She sipped coffee from
her take-out cup, glancing at Sydowski. “What’s with you?”
    Sydowski folded his glasses into
his shirt pocket as they moved down Market, buildings, city blocks rolling by.
He reflected. Over twenty years in the detail. What was he at now, four hundred
homicides? The highest clearance rate in the state. “You can retire any
time, Walt,” his Lieutenant Leo Gonzales would remind him, unlit cigar clamped
in his teeth. “Take care of your old man, your birds. Go fishing in British
Columbia. Beautiful up there. You don’t need this job any more, Walt.”
    But he did. Being a homicide
detective was how he defined himself. He thought of Louise. His old man, his
girls. Reggie Pope popping up like a ghost. Sydowski rubbed his face. “It’s a
long story, Linda. What do we have at the Square?”
    “Body in a wedding gown,
displayed in a bridal boutique.”
    “A wedding gown.” Sydowski
crunched on another Tums. “This day just keeps getting better.”
     
    At the shop Sydowski and Turgeon
pulled on white surgical gloves, slipped on shoe covers,