For now, nonsense still meant murder. Support units meant Henry detectives. Lab vans. A meat wagon.
Ray said, “You okay?”
“All secure.” Tony messed up a sausage link and chased it with OJ. “You didn’t finish your cantaloupe.”
Ray looked at his plate.
Connie came by with the coffee. “How you doin’, five-O?”
“Perfect,” Tony said.
She filled his mug to the top. “Whatcha do to your head?”
“He slipped on some ice.”
“You gotta be more careful, baby.” She winked. “Them bald spots might stop growing back.”
“Yeah,” Tony said. “But I’d still look good.”
“Shit.” She laughed and moved on.
For the next couple minutes, Ray sat quietly on his side of the table, leaning forward on his elbows, listening to the radio.
Nothing worth hearing now. Tony finally reached over and snapped it off. “Wonder who caught it?”
Half a smile. “Vargas, probably.”
“Jesus.” Tony shook some Cholula on his hash browns. “That’d be about the way it would go. Wouldn’t it?”
Ray chuckled softly at the idea, but not like he really thought it was funny.
“Hey,” Tony said. “You hear the Polack mafia’s been at it in Chicago again?”
“Huh?”
“It’s true.” Tony nodded. He folded the last strip of bacon into his mouth and chewed it down. “Two more victims were found with their heads tied together. Shot through the hands.”
Ray just sat there like he didn’t get it. After a second, he shook his head.
“Eddie always told that joke.” Tony picked up his fork and got back to breakfast. “Every time I’d say something, try and give a little advice? He’d peel that off like a twenty-dollar bill.” He dug into the last of the hash browns. “Guy thought that shit was hilarious.”
“Sounds like Eddie.”
“Yeah. Guess he wouldn’t think it was all that funny now, huh?”
“Probably not,” Ray said.
“I don’t want some asshole hauling Aunt Joan down to ID the body.” Tony slugged some coffee, wiped his mouth. He pushed his plate to the side. “You know?”
Ray sighed. “Yeah.”
“Need to figure out how to show up down there without raising any flags.”
“We’ll just go,” Ray said. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“Like we heard they had a good price on dinettes, right? Thought we’d come down and check it out?”
“Like we were getting breakfast,” Ray said. “Caught the call on my hobby box.”
Tony grinned. “That’s us, baby. No such thing as off duty.”
“Hey.” Ray said it low. The tone in his voice was new.
Tony put down his fork. He picked up his freshened coffee, blew away the steam. He had a sip and looked at his partner.
They’d kicked in doors. They’d chased shitheads with unknown weapons into dark alleys. They’d worked crowd control, written tickets for littering, and gone before shooting inquiries. One time, just last year, they’d come within half a breath of losing two years of cover in a small room full of fierce young guys with guns.
In all of that, it had been a rare thing, seeing Ray Salcedo look concerned.
“I really am sorry about your uncle,” he said.
“Thanks, man.” Tony nodded. “Me, too.”
Ray moved his eyes to the table. He gave it a beat before he looked up again.
“But this changes things. You know that, right?”
“Obviously.”
Ray had more to say, but Connelle picked then to come back around. She hit Tony’s mug again, scooped up all their plates, and balanced the whole stack in one hand.
“So how you doing, Connie?” Tony said. “Kids okay?”
She chuckled. “Their daddy still won’t pay.”
“Yeah? Which one?”
“Parnell.”
“No shit?” Tony took another sip of his coffee. “He still flop at the Towers?”
“Far as I know.”
He nodded across the table. “Me and Ray, maybe we’ll stop by.”
Because that’s what we do, he said without saying it. We take care of our own.
“Yeah? Stop by and what?”
“Have a visit,” Tony said. “You know, friendly. Remind him of his court-ordered responsibilities. How’d that be?”
“Shit.” Connie dropped them both a grin and kept moving. Over her shoulder she said, “Long as you still plan on leaving a tip.”
Worth didn’t know how much time had passed. He hadn’t worn his watch, and there wasn’t a clock on the wall. Twenty minutes, maybe half an hour.
While he sat there, he overheard muffled snippets of information on passing voices, chattering radios.
Captain Torres was the first person to return to the meeting room. She came in, looked all around, and said, “Where’s your rep?”
“He went to the bathroom,” Worth said. That had been fifteen minutes ago. Worth hadn’t minded the time alone.
Captain Torres stepped out, scanned the floor, stepped back in and sighed. “Come with me.”
He rose from his chair and followed her out.
Gina headed around the far side of the bullpen, angling toward the interview rooms tucked back in the corner on the other side. On the way, Worth saw Vargas sitting at his desk, working the phone. Two other detectives shrugged into their sport coats and headed for the elevators. One of them was the guy Worth had seen standing over by the printer before.
She kept walking. Worth followed along.
In the room, she pointed to a chair and said, “Sit tight.”
It was like any other interview room he’d ever been in, except it had new carpeting and a long window looking out over downtown. The blinds were open; beams of morning sunlight made stripes on the table.
In one corner, on a wheeled cart, sat a polygraph machine. He knew it wasn’t for him; they’d schedule something formal through his rep and whoever he ended up hiring for a lawyer. But lie detectors didn’t normally sit around idle in interview rooms. He was meant to see it.
Worth pulled the chair out, but he didn’t sit.
He said, “Am I in custody?”
Another sigh. “For now? If you don’t ask that question, we won’t have to get into answering it. Just sit tight. Okay?”
Worth sat down.
As Captain Torres turned to leave, he said, “Gina.”
She stopped, looked back.
“Come on,” he said. “You know me.”
“Do I?”
“What do you think?”
Captain Regina Torres looked him square in the face. Worth could tell by looking at her that she hadn’t decided the answer to that question yet.
But she stepped back into the room. Lowered her voice.
“What are you doing here, Matt? I mean, Jesus Christ. What happened to you?”
Worth didn’t know how to respond. He said, “I heard the chatter out there. You caught a double?”
“If you heard, then you already know.”
Two bodies, somewhere in the city. He couldn’t help but think back to what Gwen had said before: One or the other of them has been calling every two or three hours. Now all of a sudden it’s been six.
What do you think that means?
“It isn’t them,” he said. “Is it?”
“Who?
“Briggs and Salcedo.”
She gave him a look. “Why would you ask that?”
“Because we haven’t heard from them. Two plus two, okay?” He pointed at his wrist where his watch would have been. “That’s all.”
“No,” she said. “It isn’t them.”
Worth said, “What’s going on?”
Captain Torres pulled the door closed until it clicked.
“Look,” she said. “Narco’s had Tony Briggs and Ray Salcedo under investigation since they rotated back out to patrol. Okay? I’m choosing to believe you really didn’t know that already. For now.”