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see a lot of bad stuff out here, and that’s the temptation. We can’t win ’em all, some cops start thinking, so let’s just pick the ones we want to fight. You can get so angry that you lose sight of the line. And some just go bad. The line is always there. When a cop forgets that, he or she invariably crosses that line, sometimes before they even realize it. And many cross it without ever knowing they did. That’s why crooks don’t have to be careful, and we do, Cassie. They don’t have to give a damn, and we always do.”
    Cassandra smiled. She had a very bright and lovely smile when she decided to show it to someone. “Because we’re the good guys.”
    “You said it. Now let’s go help Detective Moss out, see if we can jog this old fellow’s memory.”
    To Broom’s surprise, Cassie threaded her arm through his, and looked up at him with a broad smile. “You know what I like about you, Broom?” she asked him, her perfect little face upturned towards his.
    “No, what?”
    “Everything. Let’s go.” And together they walked down the hall.

 
    Chapter 6
     
    It was raining on the north side of Birmingham. Light summer rain, the kind you don’t mind walking in. A group of people gathered around an outside barbecue place on Fourth Avenue North. They were mostly black, and old. I pulled over and got out and walked over to them. There was no lobby, just an outside order window. The menu was on a blackboard on the wall behind the woman in the window. The woman, the window, and the barbecue joint had all seen their better days. I ordered a barbecued chicken sandwich and waited around in the cluster of people outside.
    An old man next to me patted me on the shoulder. “Are you Roland Longville?”
    “Yeah, I am,” I said absently, figuring he’d seen me on TV or in the papers.
    The old man turned to another old man, standing beside him, and announced proudly, “See, I told you he was Roland Longville.”
    The other old guy looked at me and spat on the sidewalk.
    “Roland Longville that played for the University of Alabama, back in the ’90s? No, you ain’t him. He probably plays pro now,” the other old man decided, and they both nodded in agreement and turned away.
    I got my sandwich and left the two old men there, arguing. At least someone still remembered me from my football days.
    ~
    Across town, my old partner, Detective Les Broom, was trying to piece together a puzzle of his own. He was standing in front of a white board, drawing a diagram. Detectives Cassandra Taylor and Lance Moss were seated in two straight-back chairs, watching his progress.
    “Two weeks ago, we had the hit on Little Tony. Today we have the two guys hit on Third Avenue North.”
    “We can’t place any of Lonnie’s known associates at either scene,” Moss put in.
    “Because we can’t put anybody on either scene, Moss,” Cassandra said with a sidelong look.”
    Moss frowned. “I’m just saying . . . .”
    Broom cleared his throat. “True, we have nothing on Lonnie’s boys. Forensics is still picking Merle’s Hardware over, although I’m not holding out any hopes. This thing’s going to get really ugly before we nail anybody. We’ve got surveillance on the Ganato house. The Don’s old-fashioned, likes his underlings to come pay homage. I figure we have a much better chance keeping an eye on his crew. After all, the ball’s in his court, now.”
    “And, they are Lonnie’s target if he decides to go with a pre-emptive strike,” Cassandra said.  
    “We have to find out what Lonnie’s planning,” Moss said.
    “If only he’d tell us that, I’d give him a lap dance at the Double Nickels,” Cassandra said sardonically.
    “Cassie, Moss has a point.”
    “And my point is, we might as well wish for snow. Lonnie knows that we’ve been wire-tapping his phones for years. He’s taken effective countermeasures against everything we’ve put in place. So there’s no way we’re going to get him or any of his