Mama Law and the Moonbeam Racer. Fred Yorg

I’m here.” He seemed to be choking up but somehow found a way to hold his emotions in check. Then he paced nervously to the other side of the room and placed the basket on the chair. He took a moment to collect himself and then turned to face me.

      “I got some more bad news for you.”

      I could see from the expression on his weathered face that something grave was on his mind.

      “Lay it out Sarge,” I replied.

      “It’s about Miles death.”

      “What about it?”

      He looked back coolly, but with no malice. “They’re going to try and pin his murder on you.”

      “What are you talking about? I loved Miles like a brother. He was my best friend.”

      “I know, I know. I’m here off the record to give you a heads up. I don’t buy their bullshit that you killed Miles but they’ve got some evidence and Slick Tony caught the case. You know damn well he’s not going to do you any favors. Then there’s the Commissioner. I don’t have to tell you he hates your guts.”

      Still in shock, I responded, “Fuck Tony and the commissioner, what evidence?”

      “You know it’s my ass if this ever gets out.”

      “I appreciate that, Sarge, but I need to know what they’ve got.”

      “Okay then. Miles was killed with your gun; the slug they took out of you came from Mile’s gun. I don’t have to tell you how damning that is. Between you and me, could it have been a case of friendly fire? Be straight with me Mooney.”

      “No fucking way. Miles was on the ground when I got to the alley. He was hurt, but alive when I found him. How the hell do they explain this knot on my head and the fact they found me unconscious.”

      “They figure you got knocked off balance and hit your head when you got shot.”

      “On what, the ground?”

      “There was a dumpster in the alleyway. Your blood was on the corner of it. Mooney, it would be a hell of a lot easier for you if this was a case friendly fire.”

      “That’s the second time you mentioned friendly fire. For the second and last time, it wasn’t. Just so we’re straight, there’s no way I’m going down that road, so we’ll end that topic of discussion here. What else have they got?”

      “They’ve got you on a lot of circumstantial stuff, mostly procedure.”

      “I called it in.”

      “Yeah, and you gave them a wrong address. You didn’t wait for back up, hell you didn’t even wait for confirmation from the dispatcher. You know better than that. You and I both know you screwed up.”

      The sarge’s last words hit me pretty hard, he was right. “What’s my motive supposed to have been?”

      “You don’t want to hear it.”

      “Yeah, I do. Spit it out.”

      “Tony’s laying out the theory that you may be the serial killer and Miles got onto you.”

      “That’s crazy.”

      “Yeah, everybody thinks it pretty lame. Hell, even the brass doesn’t buy it and you know how dumb those bastards can be. They think it’s more likely that you and Miles were dirty. You can expect a call from Internal Affairs.”

      “When?”

      “Later today. The chief and an assistant DA will be with him.”

      “You seem to know an awful lot, Sarge.” He looked away not answering. I had to press him, had to try and find out who was feeding him all the information.

      “Where’s the chief stand in all this?”

      “He asked me to come by and see you. He can’t help you, his hands are tied. He figures this is going to get ugly.”

      “Uniforms on the door, they ain’t there to keep people out, are they?”

      “No, they’re guarding you. Off the record you’re under house arrest. They’re here to make sure you stay put.”

      “Thanks for the heads up. You better get out of here before someone sees you. The guy on the door, is he cool?”

      “He’s okay. He’ll keep his mouth shut. No one knows I’m here, keep it that way. One more thing Mooney.”

      “What? More good news?”

      “They found drugs in your system.”

      “What drugs?”

      “I don’t know, the drugs popped up in the blood work they did on you.”

      “That can’t be. I’m clean, I don’t even drink anymore.”

      “There was liquor all over your clothes. One thing in your favor, the test results on the blood work they did showed there was no alcohol in your system. I’ve got to go. I’ve already told you more than I should.” The Sarge extended his right hand and gave me a firm handshake and a nod of reassurance.

      Shaking his out stretched hand without a word, I thought his actions to be sincere. Although we weren’t the closest of friends, his belief and confidence in me was a source of comfort. He told me more than he should have and he knew the consequences if the details of our conversation ever got out. It was an awful lot for one man to lay on the line for another. The fact that the chief sent him here led me to believe there was another friend in my corner.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

      Time moved slowly for the rest of the morning. I flicked around the dial with the remote in the endless wasteland that passes itself off as morning television. I really don’t even know why I bothered.

      My mind wasn’t really on it any way. I was trying to go over the events of Saturday night and the ramifications of the conversation with the sarge. Although it was hard for me to swallow, I had to accept the fact that the evidence against me couldn’t be ignored. Someone was framing me for murder and doing a damn good job at it. But why and who? Was Miles the intended victim? Over the years we put a lot of bad people away, could be anyone of a hundred lowlifes that we sent up. I could accept the fact that they were going after me but why muddy the waters with Miles. That really pissed me off.

      I was deep in thought when the nurse rolled in the trolley cart with my lunch. “I see from your chart that your appetite is back.”

      “Yeah, I was hungry this morning, what have we got for lunch?”

      “Chicken breast, rice, and a mixed vegetable, milk and custard for dessert.”

      “Not bad. A meal fit for a king.”

      “Maybe you’d like to hold back on your comments until you’ve tried it.”

      The nurse smiled back at me with a self-amused expression at her humor. At least she was trying.

      “You need anything else, Mr. Law?”

      “A good attorney.”

      “What?”

      “Nothing, just a bad joke. I’m fine, thanks.”

      “I’ll check back with you in about twenty minutes.”

      “Thank you.”

      When I was done with lunch, I tried the phone. It wasn’t working. The crack about the attorney although said to the nurse in jest, was now a serious consideration. Although the patrolman’s union would have to provide me with an attorney, I wasn’t interested. A cop accused of killing his partner; I’d never be able to trust him. If the sarge was right and there was going to be a rush to judgement, I couldn’t take the chance of being represented by a second string hump who may not even have my best interests at heart.

      I needed an attorney