Dirty Harry 01 - Duel For Cannons Read Online Free PDF Page B

the papers in front of him. Ron looked at the lieutenant, smiled and shrugged, as if saying, “Harry’s at it again.” When Callahan got worked up over something, the office crew stayed out of his way.
    “Come on, Harry,” continued Bressler, moving over to the other side of the desk, “what are you doing? It wouldn’t have anything to do with homicide, would it? After all, that is the department you’re supposed to be assigned to. And God knows there are enough murders to go around.”
    “Just checking something,” Harry grunted without looking up.
    Bressler looked under Callahan’s arm and read a piece of the report Harry was so intent on. “—therefore I see no reason why any further investigation into Tucker’s death is warranted—”
    “All right, Callahan, that’s it!” Bressler exploded, pulling the papers out from under his gaze. Harry was immediately on his feet, facing the lieutenant like baseball manage Billy Martin after a particularly bad umpire call. Bressler cut him off before he could complain. “Now you’re bucking for a demotion,” he said. “These are private files lieutenant to lieutenant. That’s bad enough, but wasting time with a suicide when the workload is incredible—”
    “It was no suicide,” said Harry.
    Bressler took a sympathetic tact. “Look, Harry, I know you liked the guy. Hell, we all did, but that’s the way it goes sometimes. Leave it be. Believe me, it’ll go away.”
    “Lieutenant . . .” Harry began.
    “Get your mind off it, Harry,” Bressler continued. “DiGeorgio is waiting upstairs. We’ve got to get a break on this Fullmer rape-murder thing.”
    “All right. Lieutenant,” said Harry. “Come on.”
    The two men stomped out of Caputo’s office with a cursory wave. The Missing Persons’ officer gave Harry the thumb’s-up sign. Just as he was rounding the bend, Harry gave him back an “A-OK.” Bressler kept his head down and headed for the elevators. Harry kept going past them.
    “Hey!” Bressler called after him. “Where are you going?”
    “To ballistics,” Harry replied, still moving.
    “What for?” Bressler shouted.
    “To show you something,” Harry answered. “Want to come?”
    Bressler followed, cursing all the way. Walter White, the homicide lab man, was waiting for them.
    “I see you got him here, Harry,” he said. “What did you do, promise him a cookie?”
    “No lip. White,” Bressler warned. The lieutenant only enjoyed the lab man’s Don Rickies impersonation after hours, “What is this about?”
    “Boris Tucker,” Harry said.
    “Boris Tucker shot himself,” Bressler declared flatly.
    “Boris Tucker,” Harry repeated, “was murdered in cold blood. So were the two kids who died with him. And there’s a good possibility that there’s a fourth victim.”
    Bressler was unimpressed. “Funny I missed your deerstalker when I walked in, Sherlock. You bucking for vacation time?”
    In way of reply, Harry walked over to a white drawer, pulled it open, took out a large manila envelope, came back to where Bressler was standing, opened it, and dumped the contents onto the lab counter.
    “Very impressive,” Bressler drawled. “A flattened slug, a ticket stub, a hunk of rubber, and a pretty green button. So what?”
    “So this,” Harry said, picking up the squashed bullet. “Walter just gave me the report on this. It is a totally different filing than any bullet shot from Tucker’s Bulldog revolver.”
    “Where did you get that?” Bressler said dangerously.
    Harry dropped his arm to his side and looked at the lieutenant with veiled eyelids. “A pigeon dropped it on me,” he answered.
    “Christ, Harry! Jesus Christ! Withholding evidence on a Fullerton investigation? You know what could happen?”
    “Aw, come on, Lieutenant, you know those guys wouldn’t have bothered checking this far.”
    “It makes no difference, and you know it, Callahan! You could be brought up on charges.”
    “No way,” said