Mama Law and the Moonbeam Racer. Fred Yorg

way, Mooney. The chief was all over his ass before we left the house. If anything this will hurt him, they were told in no uncertain terms to be out on the street for the serial killer, not T-Bone.”

      “Yeah, but in their defense, they’ll say they couldn’t ignore the chance to haul him in. You wait and see, they’ll come out of this smelling like a rose.”

      “That’s another reason to stay. That promotion should be yours, everybody knows you’ve earned it.”

      “Believe it or not Miles, right now I really don’t care, I’ve about had it. If this works out with Hope, I might just hang up a shingle and tell everybody to go fuck themselves. Look at us, you’re soaked to the ass. Were sitting here in a freezing car, there’s got to be something better than this.”

      “There is for you. I’ve got two kids and a wife that like to eat. I’m stuck. I got ten more years and then I’m out of here. By then, I’ll be Dr. Bowman. With my experience on the force, I should be able to write my own ticket.”

      “Good plan, but it’s still a long ways off, Miles. No guarantees in this job that you’ll ever make retirement.”

      “I don’t need to hear this, Mooney. I’m wet, it’s freezing, my eye hurts and I’ve got a partner that’s on the rag. I know your tired, and pissed off at the world, but give me a break, your conversation is starting to depress me. It’s a little past one We’re sticking to the plan till three, like we agreed. Some of us still need our job. You want to do us both a favor? Shut up and take a nap: you’re really getting under my skin.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

      Miles was really worked up, not like him at all. I had only seen him like this two, maybe three times in the ten years we’d been together. He was right, of course. The job was tough enough without having to hear my bullshit. I should have apologized then, but as usual didn’t. Not much for me to say.

      Couldn’t explain how I really felt at that moment even if I tried. Maybe the pressure was finally getting to me, maybe it was the case. Too tired too pin it down. Not wanting to bother Miles any further, I laid my head back against the glass. With any luck I’d be able to catch a few Z’s.

      “Mooney.”

      “What is it?”

      “The alleyway across the street. Thought I just saw someone.”

      “Want me to go over with you?”

      “No reason for both of us to get wet. Probably just a kid or that bum we saw before. I’ll go check it out; I gotta take a leak anyway. Might as well kill two birds with one stone.”

      “Too much coffee: it’s bad for your health Miles.”

      Miles didn’t answer. He was focusing in on the alleyway. Even though I was still half asleep my instincts should have sounded the alarm that something was up. Nine times out of ten, I would have gotten out with him and investigated, but for some reason my instincts failed me. The wind swept the cold air of the night into the car with a rush as Miles opened the door. The cool air slapped against my face like a generous portion of after-shave, bringing my full senses back. I was now fully awake, sitting upright in the seat, as Miles disappeared around the corner into the alley. Then a loud bang and a flash of light from the alley. Gunfire.

      I grabbed the car radio and called it in, just like the book tells you to. “Car 19, Detectives Law and Bowman, corner of 13th and Wilcox, shots fired, send backup.” Police procedure says to wait for confirmation, but I threw open the door and raced to the alley. As I neared the alleyway, I could see from the streetlight that Miles was down. My heart was racing out of control. Was he dead? Then I got a better view, he was on his side moving in an awkward fashion like a sand crab crawling on a beach. Basic police procedure 101 says you never go into an unsecured area until you know it’s safe. If anyone should known that lesson, it was me but this was Miles and he was down. Throwing out every bit of police training I’d learned at the academy, I acted like a damn rookie and raced to his side.

      I knelt down at his side. His head was bleeding badly, but he was still breathing. I saw the fear in his eyes. No reason for that Miles, I said to myself. I’m here. You’re going to be all right. But in retrospect, the fear I saw in Miles eyes wasn’t for him but for me. Before either of us spoke, I heard the scuffling of shoes on the wet pavement behind me and the eerie whirring sound of a bat or club cutting through the night air. I never got a chance to look back, it was too late. I’d fucked up. The assailant was still with us, hiding in the shadows. Then, like a bystander at a ball game, I heard the loud crack of the bat, then pain, and then darkness.

      It was impossible for me to tell how long I was out. When I came to, the alleyway was lit up with what seemed like a million lights. As I looked up at the sky, raindrops were bouncing off my face like they would in a shower. You could hear the sounds of cops and EMS workers doing their job. I was helpless, this was my worst nightmare. Still in a daze, I tried to get up. The EMS attendant working on me pushed me back down, “Don’t try to get up. Do you know where you’re at?”

      “Alleyway.”

      “What’s your name?”

      “Calvert Law, I’m a detective.”

      “Follow this light.”

      Following his instructions, I followed the light from reflex, moving my eyes from the right then to the left and then back again. I was slowly climbing my way back from the abyss, my mind with the subtlety of an earthquake brought forth a vision of Miles. My God, what about Miles.

      “Need a stretcher for this one. He’s got a bad concussion. He’s also bleeding from the left arm, possible gunshot wound. Bring me some scissors. We’ve got to cut away his suit coat.”

      The adrenaline was kicking in as I tried to get up, “I’m okay.”

      “No you’re not, sir. Stay down, you’re in shock.”

      “Miles, Miles,” I called out weakly in a faint voice barely recognizable.

      “What? What did you say? I couldn’t understand you,” the attendant asked.

      “My partner, how is he?”

      “Detective, you can talk to him now. Make it quick. He’s asking about his partner.”

      “Be right there.”

      Then a big man in a yellow rain slicker bent down over me, the lights temporarily blinded me. I still couldn’t make out his face, but when he spoke I recognized him, “What do you say, hot shot?”

      “Fuck you, Tony, where’s Miles?”

      “Roll your head to the left. Get out of the way Max, let him get a good look.”

      It took all my strength, everything: but somehow through the pain I managed to twist my head to the left into the light. At first the glaring haze of neon light blinded me, then slowly my eyes adjusted as they were zipping up a body bag. Please God, not Miles.

      Then Tony jabbed me in my left shoulder and the pain temporarily stole my sorrow. “Hey, watch his shoulder.” The EMS worker demanded, “He’s been shot.”

      “Don’t worry about him. He’s a tough guy,” then Slick Tony smiled down at me. “Ain’t that right?”

      Ignoring his question, “What happened to Miles?”

      “You tell me.”

      “I don’t know. He was alive when I got to him.”

      “So you say. I can assure you he’s very dead now. It looks like he was shot with a revolver.”

      “Can’t be. He wasn’t shot. He was…”

      “He’s shot and he’s dead. Did you do any shooting when you hit the alley?”

      “No.”

      “This doesn’t look good, something’s