Jamaica Plain (9780738736396) Read Online Free PDF

do with humor. Some things didn’t change no matter where you served—army, police, or Boston. They were all slaves to the rulebook. Miller came over from the coffee machine that every CID office had in the corner. Back at Ecclesfield Police Station, it had been a kettle and a refrigerator. At E-13 it was a percolator and filter jug. Miller set a mug on the desk.
    â€œThere you go, Officer Grant.”
    â€œJim. I was never an officer.”
    Miller seemed pleased to be on first-name terms. Grant wondered what the young detective had been told about him. Kincaid sat on the edge of the desk, avoiding the mug of coffee. “You made sergeant, though, didn’t you? Army, wasn’t it?”
    Grant looked at the detective but didn’t answer.
    Kincaid gave him a you-know-how-it-is shrug. “I checked you out.”
    Grant studied Kincaid but already knew what to say. He’d said it many times before. Sooner or later it was a subject that always cropped up.
    â€œNot for long.”
    â€œEight years. Long enough.”
    â€œNo. Sergeant. Not for long.”
    Kincaid shrugged again as if that wasn’t important. “Eight years. What was your field?”
    â€œIf you checked me out, then you know already.”
    â€œRestricted access. They wouldn’t say.”
    â€œThere you go, then.”
    Kincaid leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knee. He lowered his voice but kept the tone friendly. “Look. If I’m stuck with you, it helps to know what I’m stuck with. Fair enough?”
    Grant could understand that. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs. “Fair enough. I was a typist.”
    â€œAnd that’s restricted?”
    â€œImportant stuff I typed.”
    It was what he always said. Tension in the office turned up a notch, but Grant relaxed. He stayed loose. The best way to keep a secret was to convince yourself that it never happened. Grant had told this story so many times he almost believed it himself. The secret was safe with him.
    Miller took a swig of his coffee. The young detective was obviously growing comfortable with the visitor from across the pond because he smiled when he spoke. “Snake Pass isn’t restricted, though. That was some serious ass you kicked.”
    Grant considered him. “You can’t make an omelette without breaking some eggs.”
    Kincaid slid off the desk and stood but didn’t move away. “Yeah, well. We’re walking on eggs in JP. Don’t want any breaking.”
    Grant shifted in his chair and sat up straight. He laced his fingers together, turned his hands palm outwards, and flexed. The knuckles cracked. He flexed his neck. Bones cracked there too. He rubbed his chin, then smiled up at Kincaid. “When you’re up to your neck in shit, don’t make waves.”
    â€œExactly.”
    Grant shrugged his shoulders and held his hands out palms upwards. “This is a holiday assignment.”
    â€œVacation.”
    â€œ Vacation assignment doesn’t roll off the tongue.”
    Kincaid didn’t look amused. Grant poured oil on troubled water. “They sent me to interview Sullivan, then bin him off. The crime’s a nonstarter. Insufficient evidence. They just want his explanation for the report before they file it.”
    Kincaid lowered his voice again, but this time the tone wasn’t friendly. “They sent you here because of the shit you pulled at Snake Pass. Wouldn’t spend that kind of money on a no-mark shit heel like Sullivan. You’re trouble they wanted out of the way. We don’t need any more trouble here than we’ve got already. Do your job and go home.”
    â€œSo let me see him.”
    â€œTomorrow. See the sights. He’ll be ready in the morning.”
    Grant got to his feet. “You a doctor now as well? What about the foaming at the mouth?”
    Kincaid stood his ground. “I know more than the doctor. He’ll