Next of Kin Read Online Free PDF Page B

her; everything else. You doing okay?’ Long hated the question. He got it often these days, and he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to answer it honestly. He
didn’t try anymore.
    ‘I’m good.’
    ‘You sure?’
    ‘Yeah. Thanks.’
    Murphy looked Long in the eyes, and Long looked away. ‘If you ever want to talk, I know some pretty good guys. Department’ll pay for it, too, y’know?’
    ‘Yeah,’ Long said. ‘I know. Thanks, I’m good.’
    ‘You change your mind, you know where to find me. You’re a good cop,’ he said. ‘Don’t let them take that away from you.’ Long said nothing. The coroner looked
around the room. ‘I’ll be in touch about this. Let you know what we find.’
    ‘Okay, thanks Doc.’ Long watched as Murphy walked out the front door. There were still a few of the crime lab boys left, taking some last snapshots and cleaning up their gear, but
soon the site would be deserted. They all knew the odds of solving something like this; there was little enthusiasm in the air. Uniformed officers were canvassing, but as yet they had learned
nothing helpful. No one saw anything, no one heard anything, no one knew anything.
    God, he needed a drink. Not yet , he told himself. Soon .
    He bent down and started gathering up the papers strewn across the floor. He had to go through them eventually, and there seemed no time like the present. The faster he worked the angles, the
faster he could put the case behind him.
    He found it an hour later. He’d been through nearly all of the correspondence – bills, mainly. A few catalogues from low-end discount retailers; no personal mail to
speak of. He figured he was just about done.
    It wasn’t in the stacks on the floor or in any of the drawers or shelves; it was taped to the bottom of one of the desk drawers, which had been tossed on the floor. Carefully hidden, it
blended in with the wood, and he might not have even noticed it, but he had trouble getting the drawer back into the desk and turned it over to see where the slides were.
    As he pulled the envelope free, the cellophane tape pulled chips of wood off the bottom piece of the drawer. It was medium-sized, manila, with a flap at the top and a metal wing attachment that
fit through a hole so the envelope could be opened and closed repeatedly. Long pulled the wings together and opened the flap.
    There was a letter inside, old and yellowed. He held it up and examined it closely. Grimy fingerprints marred the outside of the envelope, and the postage mark was smudged. Long could just make
out the date of delivery – July, 1991.
    He read the letter twice. It was likely unconnected with the murder, but it complicated the investigation. At the very least, it would require an additional stop, or maybe two, along the road to
putting the case behind him. That was fine with him; that’s what they paid him for.

CHAPTER FOUR
    ‘How old are you, Kevin?’ Finn asked.
    ‘Fuck you care?’
    Finn looked at Kozlowski. ‘You believe this?’ He shook his head and turned back to McDougal. ‘It’s a simple question, dipshit. How old are you?’ He feigned sign
language as he asked the question.
    McDougal stuck his chin out like an angry child. After a moment he said, ‘Twenty.’
    Kozlowski motioned to the bartender. ‘I’m gonna have to tell Jimmy not to serve you anymore.’
    ‘Fine,’ McDougal said. ‘I’m gonna have to slit your fuckin’ throat. Then I’m gonna have to find a new bar.’
    ‘You’re not very bright, are you Kevin?’ Finn said. ‘It’s okay, in my line of work I deal with a lot of guys who are dumb as stumps, so I’m used to it. I just
like to know what I’m dealing with.’
    Kevin said through his teeth, ‘I’m only twenty and I’m smart enough to have my own crew. Smart enough to drive a fuckin’ 7-Series and live in a duplex. Fuck do you drive,
asshole?’
    Finn looked over at the two young men sitting at the far end of the bar. One of them still had