Rescue

wants or warrants.“
    “Or whatever the new jargon is. You a dinosaur, too?“
    “Kind of. Thanks for your help.“
    “We aim to please.“
    I hung up the phone and looked over to the substation, then back at the coffee shop. I figured I had at least half an hour before Guinness would be finished.

    “It’s open.“
    I came through the door marked LIEUTENANT MURPHY. I The man himself was sitting behind his desk, using the one pen from the penholder in front of him, the other slot in the holder having a miniature American flag stuck in it. Murphy wore a long-sleeved shirt with a collar stay under the paisley ? tie, the jacket to a windowpane tweed suit laid over a chair next to the desk. He looked up, waving the black hand that seemed to swallow the gold pen.
    “Sit down, Cuddy. Be just a minute.“
    I took one of the other chairs, iron gray metal with green J pads that matched neither the black padded one Murphy used nor the olive drab file cabinets on one wall. My chair did match the shelves of green Massachusetts Statutes Annotated .. behind his desk. Almost.
    Whatever Murphy was writing seemed to give him trouble-“Lieutenant, I can come back another time.“
    “No. Be done with this—aw, shit. It can wait.“
    Watching him put down the pen, I said, “What is it?“
    Murphy frowned. “Birthday card. My godson, Arnett.“
    “I hate writing cards.“
    “Me, too. Truth is, I’m not exactly crazy about Arnett
    himself.“
    “Bad kid?“
    “Not exactly a kid, either. Boy’s twenty-nine years old. Dropped out of high school, bummed around, got his equivalency, bummed around, dropped out of college, bummed around some more. Had three jobs, two of them things I fixed up for him, then finally quit the last one, and guess what?“
    “ He’s bumming around.“
    “Might be some hope for you yet, Cuddy.“
    “Tell him not to join me. Profession’s tough enough as it is.“
    Murphy leaned back in the chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Which brings us to why I have the pleasure of your company.“
    “Kind of.“
    “What do you want?“
    “A girl was fished out of the Fort Point Channel last night.“
    “Stop.“
    “Guinness and I—“
    “I said, ‘Stop!’“
    I did.
    Murphy came forward in his chair, the hands folded on the blotter in front of him. “Seems to me the last time you got me involved in another squad’s case, it blew up in my face.“ I didn’t answer him.
    “Seems to me it was Guinness and Holt then, too.“
    “I’m not trying to get you involved, Lieutenant. I just want to run a couple of plates with the New Hampshire registry.“
    “ So go talk to New Hampshire .“
    “I did. They won’t do it over the phone.“
    “Take yourself a ride.“
    “They’d be closed by the time I got there, and the mail’s
    too slow.“
    , So, account of it’s Friday afternoon, you want me to put m a request, huh?“
    “That’s right.“
    “My name’d have to go on it. Ask Guinness to do it.“
    “Already tried that.“
    “How about your friend, ADA Meagher?“
    “That wouldn’t be professional, and you know it.“
    “No, but it would be fine and dandy to have me help you out.“
    I got up to leave. “Okay, Lieutenant.“
    Murphy’s eyelids slipped down, giving him a lazy look. “Cuddy?“
    “Yeah?“
    “Am I the only other cop you know?“
    “No.“
    “Then try knocking on somebody else’s door.“
    It was a good suggestion. “Thanks.“
    Murphy looked down at the card. “Boy never really had a chance in life.“
    “I’m sorry?“
    “My godson. His daddy was from L.A. and named him after Jon Arnett, halfback for the Rams.“
    A blond-haired, clean-cut guy. “I remember him.“
    “Yeah, well, then you see what I mean.“
    “Afraid not.“
    “Come on, Cuddy. How’s a brother supposed to make anything of himself, his daddy goes and names him after a white running back?“

    “Calem Police, Sergeant Dwyer.“
    “Can I have Paul O’Boy in Detectives?“ J
    “Wait one.“
    After some electronic burping, I heard, “Detectives, O’Boy speaking.“ L
    I pictured a stubby guy in clashing clothes with only a few wisps of hair at the front of a perfectly round head. “This is John Cuddy.“
    “Christ. Now what, the gang thing again?“
    “Nothing from them. Just a simple request.“
    “We’re all out.“
    “You haven’t heard it yet.“
    “Tank’s empty, Cuddy.“
    “You owe me, remember?“
    “I remember the guy you went in to save was already