Deception Read Online Free PDF Page B

the phone.
    “He’s really a fun guy,” the reporter said.
    There isn’t a cop I know who’d call him a fun guy.
    While peering in at Lennox, I caught sight of his full-length mirror. A cop with a full-length mirror? I wondered how many hours he’d watched himself, practicing looking natural.
    I saw my face in the lower corner of the mirror. I stuck out my tongue. Then I held up my hand, moving thumb and fingers together in a yakety-yak. The chief turned and looked at me. I went seamlessly into a wave, smiling at him.
    Anyway I hoped it was seamless.
    The chief emphatically hung up and walked toward his door.
    I looked at my watch. I’d been sitting fifty-three minutes.
    “Sorry for the wait,” he said, not sounding sorry. “It was important.”
    “So I was told.”
    He didn’t offer his hand, which was fine with me since shaking it would have required touching him.
    “Time gets away from you in a job like this.”
    “No problem. I’m just working a murder investigation. No need to hurry on my account.”
    The chief looked me over like you do a bad piece of fruit. “I’m the chief of police. I have many important responsibilities.”
    We stared at each other to see who would blink. I stared at his mostly bald head. Despite his Mexico vacations and tanning booth visits, it had a gray pall. The slight sheen reminded me of a steelhead fresh out of the river. I saw slight streaks of makeup, a big joke among the cops. The chief lived for his photo ops.
    I looked at his eyes, the color of last week’s barbecue coals. Like a propane stove, they could be turned off and on. Right now they were off. “You’re still wearing that raincoat.”
    “Trench coat.”
    “You wear it to defy me, don’t you?”
    “I wear it because the classic detectives wore it. It helps create the mood, the mindset.”
    “You look like an oddball.”
    “Maybe Sam Spade and Philip Marlowe looked like oddballs, but they did their job. I do mine.”
    “This isn’t a novel. This is the real world.”
    “We’re all inspired by different things.” I gestured at his artwork, none of which inspired me.
    “All right, Chandler … I know we have some history. We need to get on the same team, lock arms.” He invited me into his office with a sweeping gesture, like I was entering the home of the pope, Vince Lombardi, or Chuck Norris.
    “Sit down,” he said, shutting the door. “I’m going to tell you the unvarnished truth. These are challenging times. We need to set aside our differences for the greater good.”
    I knew whose greater good he meant. Still, I sensed a conciliatory tone. What’s up with that?
    “I have an idea I want to bounce off you.”
    Lennox didn’t bounce ideas off you; he dumped them on you. Something was up.
    “I told you to sit down,” he said.
    “I’ve got a back spasm. Been sitting too long.”
    “Sit down.”
    I’m three inches taller than the chief, and he doesn’t like looking up at me. I stretched myself on tiptoes for about five seconds, then sat.
    “What’s that smell?” He leaned down, two feet from my face.
    I ran through the options: coffee, beer, smoke from Rosie O’Grady’s pub, Limburger cheese on my morning muffin, Jade East, English Leather Lime. Since I hadn’t worn the last two since I was a junior higher, I finally said, “My gum? Black Jack?”
    “It smells terrible. And it leaves a black film on your teeth.”
    “That’s licorice.”
    “I’ve been looking through your file,” he said. “Before I took over, you were cited for ‘inappropriate levity.’ Do you recall why?”
    “It would be hard to pinpoint.”
    “During Christmas season you answered your phone, ‘Ho, ho, ho … homicide.’ ”
    “Oh yeah.”
    “And what is the public supposed to think? We take our work seriously here, Detective.”
    “I thought it was an internal line. Another cop.”
    “That doesn’t make it right. We need to set examples for each other. And don’t you agree we need to