Last of the Independents Read Online Free PDF

he was wearing, dental charts if you’ve got them, the plate and VIN numbers from the car.”
    â€œI’ll bring them tomorrow.”
    â€œMake it Monday,” I said. “Give me time to run some of this down.” I brought out the client and contract forms. “And I’ll need everything McEachern worked up.”
    Mr. Szabo looked at the door. “I don’t have that,” he said.
    â€œMcEachern didn’t give you a copy?”
    â€œHe did, but I was angry. I threw it at him. I told you, I overreact.”
    â€œI don’t blame you,” I said. “I’ll talk with him.”
    We shook hands. On his way out Cliff Szabo turned back and said, “I love my son, Mr. Drayton.”
    â€œNever doubted it.”
    â€œThey’ll tell you I didn’t,” he said. “I’m not good at sharing such things. But I do love him,” he reiterated, and was gone.
    I n my brief time on the job, I’d met few cops better than Herbert Lam. He’d been one of the legends of the VPD, up there with Kim Rossmo and Al Arsenault, Dave Dickson and Whistling Smith. Lam was probably responsible for half a dozen missing children ending up back in the arms of their loved ones. A legacy to be proud of.
    One evening in July, Lam and his family were driving home from Spanish Banks. A semi-trailer crossed the median, flipping the car, killing Lam and injuring his wife and daughter. I found this out from the front desk of the Main Street station. The news floored me. I wasn’t Lam’s age and I hadn’t worked with him on the job, but I felt a sense of loss. In the movies the great detectives are obsessive geniuses. In real life, too often they’re hard-working family men and women who don’t deserve the ends they meet.
    When Katherine came back at half past four I was on the phone trying to figure out who had taken over Lam’s workload. I’d negotiated through the VPD phone maze to Constable Gavin Fisk’s desk, only to get his voicemail. Fisk I knew. I’d gone through training with him. We’d once been friends.
    Katherine read through the file while I waited for Fisk to pick up. He didn’t and the call went to message. “Gavin, this is Mike Drayton. Concerning the Szabo kid. You have my number.”
    I hung up and tried Aries again, to no avail.
    â€œHe’s so precise about the time,” Katherine said.
    â€œWhat does that tell you?”
    â€œI guess it’s possible he looked at his watch just before he noticed Django was missing.” She studied my expression. “Is it possible he’s lying?”
    â€œIs that ever impossible?” I hung up the phone. “Sometimes an abundance of details means you’re trying hard to convince someone something is true. More likely, though, after being grilled by the police several times, being interviewed by the press, not to mention McEachern, Szabo probably committed his best guess to memory and now repeats it as fact.”
    â€œSo what does that tell you?” Katherine countered.
    â€œThat he’s more concerned with emotional truth than empirical truth, as most of us are. Facts have to cohere into a story of some kind before we can deal with them.”
    Katherine had placed an ATM envelope on the corner of the table, currency visible through the holes. “What’s that?”
    â€œFive hundred dollars,” she said. “Half of Laws’s bonus. I couldn’t take it all once I saw how much it was.”
    â€œIt’s yours,” I said. “You earned it.”
    â€œWhen I worked at White Spot, management took a portion of the tips. Take it. Or put it into the business. Upgrade some of this shitty furniture.”
    I took the money. “What’s your schedule for this semester?”
    â€œI’m yours Tuesdays and Fridays starting next week.”
    â€œDrop out of school and come work for me.”
    She laughed.