Yesterday's News

particularly loyal and affectionate spaniel. Right.
    He said, “I’m told you’re looking into Ms. Rust’s death.”
    “Indirectly. She hired me on another matter.”
    He nodded solemnly, sympathetically. “A difficult situation for us all, Mr. Cuddy.”
    “How’s that?”
    He spread his hands expansively. “We are a small city, sir. A poor one in many ways, rich only in our helping of each other. The several deaths weigh heavily in such a community.”
    “I had the impression Charlie Coyne might have been a tad light in the mourner department.”
    “Mr. Coyne, who I remember well from his exploits as a juvenile, was not the most popular of individuals. Also, his employment environment was not conducive to long life and happiness. It is the circumstances prior to his death that concern me, however.”
    “The allegations of corruption.”
    “Yes, the ‘allegations.’ That is exactly how you should refer to them.”
    “Thanks, but I’ve already heard that advice once this morning.”
    “My peer, Captain Hagan, advises you well.”
    I decided not to say anything, let him lead me. “You see, it is good advice because there are many who would poison the community against the police force. There are enough in the minority community who already wish to do so, despite the fact that our present revered chief is himself of Portuguese descent.”
    “Would that part of the community be reassured by the appointment of a similarly descended successor when the current chief retires?”
    A small smile toyed with the corners of Hogueira’s mouth. “Many would be so, yes.”
    “And a provable corruption scandal on the plainclothes side of the hallway might substantially increase that possibility.”
    “Very likely.”
    “But it also couldn’t look like the uniform side had given things a boost.”
    “Oh no!” said Hogueira. “That would be unseemly.”
    “But perhaps some information, civically shared with a concerned individual like myself...”
    “Perhaps in the form of more good advice.”
    “I’m always open to good advice.”
    Hogueira wiggled his rear end deeper into the chair. “There are several quite dangerous places to be avoided in the part of our city called, unfortunately, The Strip. An area of sex and sin which my uniforms patrol, but are discouraged from investigating. One such place is a theater called the Strand which shows unwholesome films. Another is a bar catering to voyeurs called Bun’s.”
    “Let me guess.”
    “The management would say you were wrong. They would say they drew the title from the nickname of the owner, one Bernard ‘Bunny’ Gotbaum. But your guess about the quality of entertainment offered there would be distressingly accurate.”
    “Is there any special reason I should stay away from these two places?”
    “Oh yes. The unfortunate Mr. Coyne was employed at the Strand , and he died behind Bun’s after drinking heavily there.”
    “Captain, if Coyne had lived, would the DA have sought an indictment against whoever on the force was allegedly involved in the porno business?”
    “You ask a question that a man in my delicate position should not answer. I believe, however, that without Mr. Coyne, no district attorney could possibly present a successful case. The state police investigator in that office, a Trooper Cardwell, might offer the same opinion, if you were to ask him.”
    “Hagan said that a bum in the alley saw Coyne’s killer and that Coyne was living with a woman somewhere around here. Can you help me out with their names?”
    “Mr. Cuddy, you should have learned by now that one captain cannot discuss a case assigned to another captain. I trust that you will take my good advice.” He glanced over my shoulder. “Officer Manos will be pleased to escort you from the building now.”

I drove up the road fifteen miles or so to the district attorney’s office. I was lucky: a secretary covering the front desk said Trooper Cardwell was in.
    She pointed to his office, a slope-sided garret with another desk in it and the headroom of an attic crawl space. Seated in a low-back, wheeled chair, Cardwell was black and under thirty. He wore a military haircut and bearing, over a short-sleeved dress shirt and yellow tie. After we introduced ourselves, I closed the door behind me.
    Cardwell said, “What’s on your mind?”
    I sat across from him and said, “Charlie Coyne and Jane Rust.”
    With a toe, he propelled himself around to use the telephone.