Doctor Who_ Warlock - Andrew Cartmel [66]
He waited for the meal to settle then drank a cup of fresh coffee. He did a hundred push‐ups, his gusts of breath stirring dust and fluff off the hard wood floor each time he jerked downwards. It was time to clean the place up. After an hour sweating over a mop and broom he showered and changed his clothes and went back into the living‐room. The white pill was still sitting there, waiting on the book on the table. Creed found his phone underneath a pile of magazines and set it down beside the pill.
He punched the number for Chavez’s direct line but it was busy so the phone system in the station house routed him through the switchboard to the narcotics unit. A voice he didn’t recognize answered the phone on the second ring. Creed had the disorienting feeling that everything was changing behind his back, even though he’d been away from work for less than a week. He asked for Chavez and gave his name.
There was a long silence before the unfamiliar voice came back on. ‘Hey,’ said the cop. ‘Creed McIlveen. Aren’t you Jimmy McIlveen’s brother?’
‘That’s right,’ said Creed, pleased to note that his voice didn’t betray any emotion.
‘I knew Jimmy. Great cop.’
‘Yes, he was.’ Creed suppressed the urge to scream at the guy to shut up and just put him through to Chavez.
‘That was a terrible thing that happened to him.’
‘Yeah.’
‘I was one of the first ones to arrive on the scene. I remember the night. It was snowing.’
‘Yeah, look. Listen –’
‘They figured a sniper from the rooftop across the street.’
‘Listen –’
‘I can’t believe they never found the guys who did it.’
‘Listen, can you just put me through to Chavez?’
‘Sorry, Creed. He can’t take your call at the moment.’
Creed pushed the kill button on the phone and set it down on the table. Right beside the white pill. His hand hovered over the pill for a moment. He thought of Jimmy dead in the snow and he thought of Anna zippered into the fresh vinyl stink of the body bag and he thought about Chavez not taking his call.
Bert made a small sound in the kitchen as Creed picked up the pill and swallowed it.
* * *
They parked in the shade on the far side of the street.
They’d had to borrow a car from the IDEA motor pool. The van wasn’t available because IDEA transport personnel were stripping the hardware out of it.
‘That’s his place over there,’ said Artie, checking the address on the printout. ‘You know, I still can’t believe that stuff about Benny.’
‘That’s why we’re here,’ said Raymond Bowman. He was sitting in the front of the car beside his wife, wearing a black baseball cap and sunglasses that matched hers. ‘We want to check this guy out and make sure we don’t repeat that mistake.’ Although they were officially off duty, both of the Bowmans were wearing handguns and combat vests under their black jackets.
‘Webster said we were just supposed to bring the guy back with us. He didn’t say anything about an interrogation.’
‘Forget Webster,’ said Chrissie, slipping the transmission lever into park. The Bowmans simultaneously swung their doors open and stepped out of the car, leaving Artie to scramble after them. The couple crossed the street just as a string of traffic roared past and Artie had to hang back. By the time he caught up with them they were at the top of the stairs outside the building, Raymond holding the screen door open and Chrissie going in. Artie saw that they had their guns out.
‘Hey, wait a minute.’ But it was too late. There was nothing to do but follow them inside. Artie found himself in a big open kitchen that led through to a living