As far as Alex knew, he hadn’t done anything high profile enough to get on Rooney’s hit list. Still, whatever the Captain wanted to see him about must be bad or he wouldn’t have sent his personal goon squad to bring Alex in. They escorted him up to the tenth floor and then to the back of the building where the Captain’s office was.
Rooney was a big man with big hands, big feet, a big nose and a big opinion of his own importance. He stood six feet three with broad shoulders, pale skin and red hair that he kept close-cut. When the sneering detective opened the door, Rooney’s face was already red as a beet. There were half a dozen people in the room, including Callahan and Danny Pak.
“It’s about time,” Rooney roared. “What kept you?”
“A septuagenarian doctor,” Alex said with a completely straight face.
“Did you search him?” Rooney asked with a gleam in his eye.
The detective patted Alex down and reluctantly reported that he had no weapons. The crestfallen look on Rooney’s face gave Alex pause. He hadn’t looked around at the others in the room when he’d been brought in, but a quick look told him that they were all trying very hard not to be noticed, even Danny. Whatever got Rooney all steamed up, it was bad.
“So,” the Captain said, focusing his attention on Alex. “What do you have to say for yourself?
“Well, I’m a Sagittarius, an above average poker player, and a fine judge of liquor and women.”
A chuckle ran around the room and Rooney swelled up like he would burst, then mastered himself and sat down behind his desk. Whatever he was mad about must be serious for him to exercise such self-control. Alex had probably made it worse with his wisecrack, but at least now he knew the waters in which he was swimming.
“You’re a funny man, Lockerby,” Rooney said, his voice quiet and even. If anything it was more disturbing than his yelling. “I wonder how funny you’ll find it when I charge you with obstruction, interfering with a police investigation, destroying evidence, and anything else I can think of?”
Alex had long ago mastered his poker face, so he just smiled, but his mind reeled at Rooney’s declaration. If the Chief could make any of those charges stick, true or not, Alex would lose his investigator’s license at best, or at worst, go to jail.
“Now why would you want to charge a nice guy like me with anything like that, Captain?” Alex said. “You know I stay out of your investigations unless you invite me in.”
“I never invited you anywhere, you charlatan,” Rooney growled, his temper edging back. “That was your friend over there.”’ He nodded in Danny’s direction. “If he wasn’t a damn good detective, he’d be directing traffic by the park right now.”
So whatever this was about, Danny had brought Alex into it. The only job they’d done recently was the murdered customs agent, Jerry Pemberton.
“I take it you didn’t catch Mr. Pemberton’s murderer at the customs warehouse?”
Rooney’s fists clenched so tightly that his fingers turned white. He had been enjoying Alex’s bewilderment and now his toy had been taken away.
“No, we didn’t catch him,” Rooney said. “And you knew that all along, didn’t you?”
Now Alex really was confused.
“I didn’t tell him how to evade your men, Captain,” Alex said. “If he got away, I’m sorry, but I had nothing to do with it.”
“You knew no one was coming,” Rooney roared.
Alex looked at Danny and the detective shrugged and shook his head.
“Don’t look at him,” Rooney said. “He’s in enough trouble because of you. You sent us to that warehouse on a guess and it turned into a wild goose chase. Do you have any idea how much it cost to put men on that building for the last thirty-six hours? I had to get special permission from the Mayor, and the Governor, because foreign governments have shipments in there.”
So that was it. Staking out the customs warehouse required the Feds’ involvement. Rooney and the Mayor stuck their necks out because catching someone breaking into such a secure and important location would make them look good. When no one came, Rooney had egg on his face.
Damn political appointees.
“Maybe they’ll come tonight or tomorrow.” Alex said.
Rooney’s face screwed itself up into an ugly smile. “Everything in that warehouse has been picked up by the rightful owners,” he said. “The entire layout has changed from that drawing Pemberton made. No one’s coming.”
Alex felt the first pangs of real fear. Rooney’s neck was on the block and he was looking hard for a patsy. A smart-mouthed, consulting runewright detective was the perfect target. Still, he wasn’t in handcuffs, so Rooney must have something else in mind.
“Get to the bad news,” Alex said.
“You really are too smart for your own good, Lockerby,” he said. “The bad news is that the Chief of Police wants to see me in his office at ten o’clock, Monday morning. He’s given me until then to justify the warehouse stakeout by finding Pemberton’s murderer. If I go into that meeting without the guilty party and an ironclad case, I’m giving the Chief you, Lockerby. And not just you,” he said, looking at Danny. “Understand?”
Alex understood. He had four days to solve a case where he must have missed something. And, if he failed, he’d take Danny down with him.
“In that case,” Alex said, putting his hat back on. “I’d better get to work.”
“The rest of you get out, too,” Rooney said.
Alex left the office first, but lingered by the elevators. The other detectives and the two officers gave him dirty looks as most of them headed for the stairs, but Callahan marched right for him with Danny Pak in tow.
“We need to talk, Lockerby,” he growled under his breath. He pushed the elevator button and a moment later the three of them were descending toward the first floor. As soon as the doors closed, Callahan rounded on Alex.
“I don’t know how this case went sideways, scribbler, but you’re about to cost me one of my best detectives.”
“This isn’t Alex’s fault, Lieutenant,” Danny said.
“It doesn’t matter whose fault it is, Detective. The Mayor is howling for someone’s head, and if you’re not careful, it’s going to be yours.”
“Relax, Callahan,” Alex said with a confidence he didn’t feel. “Danny and I will find your killer.”
“Who said you get to appropriate my Detective?” Callahan said with a sneer. “You’ve already done enough damage.”
“Danny’s head’s on the block just like mine, Lieutenant,” Alex said. “If you really want to keep him, you’d better give me all the help you can.”
Callahan’s jaw tightened at that, but he nodded. “Go with Lockerby,” he said to Pak as the elevator doors opened.
Danny followed Alex out.
“One more thing, Lieutenant,” Alex said, catching the grate as Callahan tried to close it. “Did you ever find out anything about Charles Beaumont?”
“You’ve already got a case to solve,” Callahan said, pulling the grate closed. “No,” he said before pulling the lever to ascend. “We’ve checked pawn shops up and down the east side and no one knows him. It’s a dead end. Now get to work.”
Alex and Danny watched the elevator rise up out of sight, then turned toward the front doors of the building.