Shadow Prey
handle it.” Lucas sipped at the scalding coffee.
“I just wish I was. I’ve handled a lot of pretty serious situations.”
“So have we. We ain’t New York, but we ain’t exactly Dogpatch, either,” Lucas said.
“Yeah, I know . . . .”
“Sloan’s good at talking to people. He’ll dig it out.”
“All right, all right,” she said, suddenly irritable. “But this means a lot to me.”
“It means a lot to us too. We’re up to our assholes in media; Jesus, the street outside the office this morning looked like the press parking lot at a political convention.”
“Not the same,” she insisted. “Andretti was a major figure . . . .”
“We’re handling it,” Lucas said sharply.
“ You’re not handling much. You didn’t even get here until ten o’clock, for Christ’s sake. I’d been standing around for two hours.”
“I didn’t ask you to wait for me; and I told you, I work nights.”
“I just don’t have the right feeling from this. You guys—”
“And if I read the newspapers right, you guys in New York have screwed more than your share of cases to thewall,” Lucas interrupted, talking over her. “If you guys aren’t deliberately blowing up some black kid, you’re taking money from some fuckin’ crack dealer. We’re not only pretty good, we’re clean . . . .”
“I never took a fuckin’ nickel from anybody,” Lily said, her voice harsh. She was leaning over the table, her jaw tight.
“I didn’t say you did, I said . . .”
“Hey, fuck you, Davenport, I just want to nail this sonofabitch, and the next thing I hear is that New York cops are taking payoff money . . . .” She threw a paper napkin on the table, picked up the Danish and the carton of milk, and stood and stalked away.
“Hey, Lily,” Lucas said. “God damn it.”
Gary Kieffer didn’t like Lucas and made no effort to hide it. He was waiting in Daniel’s office when Lily arrived, with Lucas just behind her. He and Lucas nodded at each other.
“Where’s Daniel?” Lily asked.
“Off somewhere,” Kieffer said coldly. He was wearing a navy-blue business suit, a tie knotted in a full Windsor, and well-polished black wingtips.
“I’ll go check,” Lucas grumped. He backed out of the office, looking at Lily. She dropped her purse beside the chair next to Kieffer’s and sat down.
“You’d be the New York lady officer,” Kieffer said, looking her over.
“Yes. Lily Rothenburg. Lieutenant.”
“Gary Kieffer.” They shook hands, he with an exaggerated gentleness. Kieffer wore thick glasses and his large red nose was pitted with old acne scars. He crossed his hands over his stomach.
“What’s the problem with you and Davenport?” Lily asked. “There’s a certain chill . . . .”
Kieffer’s blue eyes were distorted by the heavy glasses and looked almost liquid, like ice cubes in a glass of gin and tonic. He was in his early fifties, his face lined by weather and stress. He was silent for a moment, then asked, “Are you friends?”
“No. We’re not friends. I just met him a couple of days ago,” she said.
“I don’t like to talk out of turn,” Kieffer said.
“Look, I’ve got to work with him,” Lily prompted.
“He’s a cowboy,” Kieffer continued. His voice dropped a notch and he looked around the office, as though checking for recording devices. “That’s my estimation. He’s gunned down six people. Killed them. I don’t believe there’s another officer in Minnesota, including SWAT guys, who has killed more than two. No FBI man has. Maybe nobody in the country has. And you know why? Because in most places, if a guy kills two people, he goes on a desk. They won’t let him out anymore. They worry about what they’ve got on their hands. But not with Davenport. He does what he pleases. Sometimes that’s killing people.”
“Well, I understand that in his area . . .”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s what everybody says. That’s what the news people say. He’s got the media people in his pocket, the reporters. They say he does dope, he does vice, he does intelligence work on violent criminals. I say he’s a gunman, and I don’t hold with that. Except for Davenport, we don’t have the death penalty in Minnesota. He’s a gunman, plain and simple.”
Lily thought it over. A gunman. She could see it in him. She’d have to be careful. But gunmen had their uses . . . . Kieffer was staring straight ahead, at the photos on Daniel’s
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