I took the time to change out of that dirty black hoodie before I got back. It’s hard for me to give an honest report when I’m still in character.
Detective Long was waiting at his desk, filling out paperwork (lord knows, that shit never quits). He sat up with his coffee in hand. I swear, 80% of that guy’s diet must be coffee.
“Any luck, Detective Nelson?”
“Fucking nothing. I thought I had a good thing going, but when I brought up “Stinson” I didn’t have any luck. They thought I was actually talking about a record.”
“Really? Nothing? Damnit! Take a walk with me.”
He grabbed his coffee and led me over to the elevators. Evidently, Detective Long needed a cigarette, so we were off to the interrogation rooms. It was still below zero outside, a typical December, and Long hadn’t grabbed a jacket. Technically, we’re not allowed to smoke in the HCPD offices, but there are very few rules in the interrogation rooms.
“Interrogation Room A” was open. We walked in and he kicked up a couple of cigarettes. We each had a seat while he pulled out his lighter and lit his smoke. Passing the lighter my way, I lit my cigarette and explained how it went down.
“The head guy, Alan, and one of his employees were talking about some girl the guy had met the other night. I didn’t catch her name…”
“Dezi.”
“You’ve spoken to her?”
“Not yet, but it’s on the table.”
I took a long pull from my cigarette. I’ve played this game before.
“Anyway, Alan and this other guy were talking about Dezi, but I think they became suspicious, because they ended it rather abruptly while I was nearby.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Jesus fucking Christ Nelson! How clumsy are you?”
“Hey! Fuck you! I didn’t do one goddamn thing out of the ordinary. I even made some fucking lame joke when I walked in, so it didn’t see like I was just some fucking stranger lurking around.”
He leaned back in his chair and held my eyes for a good thirty seconds. Finishing his cigarette, he let out a dismissive sigh. He always did this when he was trying to be intimidating. Everyone in the departments knows how he puts on his show, this stupid little silent treatment act.
“Look, maybe we should give this guy a little bit of credit. He’s been doing this for a long time. I’m sure he’s growing more and more suspicious.”
“That’s your plan?!? You know, ever since that North Minneapolis thing last spring you’ve done nothing but fuck up around here. You’re honestly claiming the problem was you were outsmarted by this fucking dealer?”
“Don’t start with that shit again. We got those Northside guys didn’t we?”
“Yeah, but we would have got them 6 months earlier if we hadn’t been busy cleaning up your fucking mess. That girl would still be alive if it weren’t for you.”
Fuck. He’s right, but Jesus, how long do I have to pay for one mistake?
“Maybe. You think I don’t go to sleep thinking about that? Y’know, some of us actually have to get out from behind our desks to make this shit happen.”
He lit up another cigarette and stood up.
“I know you‘re not talking to me like that.”
“You heard me! You think it’s easy our there? You think it’s fun to destroy people’s lives for a living?”
“Those people are felons. THEY are the ones destroying peoples lives for a living. Don’t you forget that.”
He was pacing now. I’ve seen this before, too. After that Northside bust went south. Fortunately the table separated the two of us.
“All I’m saying is that these things take time. And this guy is a lot more clever then those thugs.”
“Evidently he‘s more clever than you too. I‘d say that leaves you tied with those thugs”
“Look, I’m not getting into what happened back then. Don’t you forget, without that one mistake I’d be the one sitting behind a fucking desk while you were out digging up info at a fucking record store.”
“Yeah, but you did make those mistakes. You’re always making those fucking mistakes.”
Now I was pacing. We mirrored each other as he snuffed out his cigarette.
“I’m taking you off.”
I must have paced for a solid minute.
“Give me another cigarette.”
He pulled out his pack and kicked out one for himself, tossing the pack to me. I took the lighter from the table and took a deep inhale.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’ve been doing leg work on this case for a while.”
“True, but after today your position’s been compromised.”
“Compromised? You think these fucking losers even took the time to notice who I was? I look just like everyone else in that fucking store! That whole fucking neighborhood for that matter!”
“Two seconds ago you said to give them more credit, now they‘re ‘fucking losers?’ Look, Nelson, I’m not going to let this turn into Northside Part II. You’re done.”
With that he snuffed out half his cigarette and walked out. This is not good.
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