Dirty Harry 04 - The Mexico Kill Read Online Free PDF Page A

you were asked for one. You ignored them and brandished your weapon, threatening both.”
    “I invited them to move but I did not threaten them.”
    “Whether you exchanged words to that effect or merely displayed a gun I think is immaterial. Mr. Cimentini’s attorney reminded the court that his client was illegally arrested in terms of a recent Supreme Court decision Payton v. U.S. which extended the definition of what is subject to search and seizure in the privacy of one’s home. I do not propose to go into my interpretation of the decision, particularly whether Dorthaan’s is equivalent to a home for Cimentini. But all things considered, it was obvious to this office that it would be a waste of the taxpayers’ money to prosecute the suspect for an alleged parole violation.”
    “Next time I’ll kill the bastard,” Harry muttered to himself.
    “What’s that?”
    “Is that all you have to tell me?”
    “Not all.” He was gazing down at his desk blotter, seeming to study some documents collected there. “Making a questionable arrest is bad enough, but you also created quite a furor at Dorthaan’s. Half the front page of the Chronicle is filled with the story.” He waved the paper in Harry’s face. There was a large blurry photograph of people tumbling out of the club, panic and confusion written all over their pretty faces.
    “I saw it.”
    “One man killed, a Mr. Henry Cantwell of Sonoma, a prominent insurance executive.”
    “That what he was? I didn’t realize insurance companies were training their executives to shoot. What do they do, blow away clients who are late with their payments?”
    “I would appreciate it, Callahan, if you do not inflict your sense of humor on this office.” He went back to announcing the casualties of last night’s imbroglio: “In addition, one woman was shot in the stomach and is now in critical condition in the intensive-care unit, another man was shot and preliminary tests on him show that he’ll probably be crippled for life.”
    “Preliminary tests should also show that I was not responsible for shooting either of them.”
    “Not directly perhaps. But if you hadn’t decided to burst into Dorthaan’s, I don’t think those two people would be in the hospital this morning. Not to mention the uncounted numbers who suffered minor injuries while attempting to flee the premises.”
    “You ever consider the thousands of people hooked on junk? All of Cimentini’s victims?”
    “The problem with you is that you tend to break things down in terms of black and white. You don’t consider implications, Callahan. Which is why you are being suspended from the force—pending a full investigation, naturally. If you are exonerated you will be reinstated. If not—well, I can’t promise you there won’t be a trial.”
    “When does this suspension occur?”
    “As of now.”
    “Without pay, I assume.”
    “You assume right.” He turned back to contemplate the governor’s sad visage, indicating that Harry should consider himself dismissed.
    Harry walked out slowly. After all, he had nowhere in particular to go, no deadlines to meet.
    He was still numb when he reached his apartment, hadn’t quite absorbed the shock. First he loses Father Nick, then he loses his job. And it wasn’t even nine o’clock. It was one hell of a morning to lose all that before you sat down to breakfast.
    But the truth was he wasn’t hungry. Nolan had stolen away his appetite along with his job. And while he was sweating profusely and thirsty as hell he couldn’t quite summon the initiative to walk to the refrigerator and get out some cold orange juice. He just sat in a chair and gazed blankly out the window.
    Which was how he was occupied when, half an hour later, the phone rang.
    “What is it?” Harry had no patience and wasn’t in a mood to be polite.
    “Harry, that you?”
    “Who is this?”
    “Harold Keepnews. Long time no see, eh?”
    “Hello, Harold, what can I do for