Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #4: Books 13-16 (A Dead Cold Box Set), Blake Banner [story read aloud .txt] 📗

few yards away and officers began to spill out. She strode toward them, holding out her badge. I heard her shout, “NYPD! We need an ambulance and some paramedics—fast!”

She conferred with a sergeant, giving instructions, then signaled to an officer to come with her. Between them, they helped me to the back of one of the patrol cars. A dull, pervasive pain was building throughout my body. She sat next to me and looked into my eyes for a long moment. “You are some piece of work, John Stone.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, standing in front of a charging Dodge Ram.” I pulled out my phone and dialed. “I’m calling the inspector. We need jurisdiction on this. Is Lenny alive?”

While it rang, she said, “Just about. He took two rounds in the chest and one in the face.”

“You only fired four times. Remind me never to get you mad—Sir? Stone here…” She touched my leg, climbed out and, hunching her shoulders, loped away to where I could see an ambulance pulling up beside the crashed Dodge.

“John! What news?”

“We had an incident at the airport, sir. He pulled a gun, Airport Security were involved…”

“Did they shoot him?”

“No, not exactly. He ran, I gave chase, Detective Dehan was close behind…”              “Is she OK?”

“Yes, thank you, sir, so am I,” I added with a touch of irony. “He tried to run me down in a stolen truck, but Detective Dehan shot him. He is still alive, but it doesn’t look good.”

“I see,” He was quiet for a moment, then said, “She’s something, isn’t she?”

“She is. Sir, we need jurisdiction on this case. You’ll need to contact Airport Security and make sure they understand it’s our case.”

“Yes, of course. Then I want you both back here as soon as possible for a debriefing. Can we say the case is closed?”

I closed my eyes and thought about it for a moment while my body ached. “I’m not sure yet, sir. There are a few factors that need to be looked at, and I am slightly concussed at the moment from being side-slammed by a Dodge Ram. Give me a while to think it through, would you?”

“Naturally, get yourself seen by a doctor, then my office. Good work, Stone. Both of you, outstanding.”

“Thank you, sir.”

I hung up and sat for a while, looking through the spattered windshield as they lowered Lenny out of the cab, put him on a gurney and ran him, ducking through the rain, to the back of the ambulance. There they lifted him in and slammed the doors. Dehan spoke to the driver. Then the ambulance took off, wailing into the gray, wet afternoon. After that, she returned to the car with the sergeant, wiping her face on the back of her sleeve. They climbed in and slammed the doors. The sergeant was big and black and had the kind of smile that told you we could all get along fine, as long as you behaved. He half turned in his seat and gave me a look that was curious.

“You OK there? I heard you got fishtailed.”

“It was more like being hit by a small moon, but I’m OK.”

“Your friend in the Dodge was critical. They had to get him to hospital in a hurry, but we have a medic here. You want me to take you to see her?”

“No, thanks, Sergeant. I’d as soon get on. We still have a lot to do. You understand we have jurisdiction in this case?”

“I just heard that from the chief. There ain’t no terrorist angle and no drug trafficking involved, so, far as I’m concerned, I’m happy for you to take it off our hands.”

“Nothing like that. Can you drop us at my car?”

“You ain’t gonna drive. I ain’t askin’. You just ain’t gonna drive.”

I smiled. “No, my partner gets to drive today. I am just going to lie back and moan.”

* * *

Dehan drove back the way we’d come, but we made a detour via Morris Park to have a hot shower and change into dry clothes. We finally made it to the deputy inspector’s office a couple of hours later, at shortly after four PM, as the sun was preparing to set behind the heavy cloud cover, turning what should have been late afternoon into premature night. The rain had not eased, coming in relentless off the Atlantic, but a wind had picked up, and as we sat around the inspector’s office after the debriefing, drinking coffee out of china cups, squalls spattered at the black glass, trickling liquid diamonds down the panes.

He, the inspector, gazed at the black glass for a while, listening to the cold weather outside, and said, suddenly, “No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, no fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds—November!” He gave a satisfied smile and a gentle snort. “Thomas Hood. But at least,” he added, sipping his coffee, “you have some good news, though I very nearly lost two of my best officers in the enterprise.”

Dehan, sitting once again on the sofa beneath the window, gave her head a slight sideways twitch and looked unsure. “I have to say, sir, for my money, Lenny is our man. He’s the guy. But I don’t think Stone is convinced yet.”

I sighed. “There are some things I am not clear about. I’d like to talk to him, if he pulls through.”

The inspector frowned and set his cup down carefully on the desk. “His behavior, John, was the behavior of a guilty man.”

I nodded. “Because he was, and is, a guilty man. I am just not clear exactly what he is guilty of.”

He frowned and blinked a few times. “Well, clearly, we know that he was guilty of having an affair with Celeste Reynolds. But that, though reprehensible, is not illegal—not criminally so, anyway. She