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By Root 397 0

to make a formal statement, rather than questioning him elsewhere. His gut told him that Thompson could be a hot lead. Why else would he lie about having recently seen the victim? He skimmed the information Jackson and Hall had downloaded about Thompson and studied the photo on his license. Thompson looked to Hatcher like the sort of guy who would take money from his church’s poor-box, or denounce his mother if it would benefit him. The info indicated that he was a consultant. What did that mean, that he didn’t have a job? That’s the way Hatcher viewed all consultants, out-of-work types trying to inflate their egos. Jackson had claimed that Thompson was belligerent on the phone. Another reason for Hatcher to look forward to the confrontation. He loved belligerent suspects. The more belligerent they were, the easier it was to take them down, make them sweat, reduce them to pleading for mercy.

All of these thoughts were pleasing enough to mitigate the pain in Hatcher’s head, at least for the moment. But a particularly nasty, searing flash caused him to squeeze his eyes shut against it, and to clench his fists. Maybe Mae was right. Maybe it was time to see a doctor—an unpleasant contemplation.

The pain subsided as a white shirt from upstairs walked into the room.

“Chief Carter wants to see you, Hatch.”

“Yeah? About what?”

A shrug. “Didn’t Jackson and Hall tell you he was looking for you?”

“No. Were they supposed to?”

“He’s waiting.”

“Okay, only I was about to pick up a suspect in the happy hooker case.”

“Later.”

MPD’s chief of detectives, Willis Carter, was a tall, slim, forty-something African American who’d come up through the ranks. Those who resented what they considered to be an unreasonably rapid series of promotions chalked it up to his smooth style—“slick” was the term generally used—and his political savvy within the sprawling department. From Hatcher’s perspective, being black hadn’t hurt. Carter was a strikingly handsome man, his face a series of small, finely chiseled granite blocks covered by a coal-black membrane pulled tight. He was on the phone when Hatcher arrived, and pointed to a chair.

“You wanted to see me?” Hatcher said when Carter ended his call.

“Yes, I did. Thanks for coming in.”

Thanks for coming in? What choice did I have?

“Two things, Hatch,” Carter said. “First, this Curzon murder.”

“What about it?”

“What’s the status?”

“We’re working it hard. I was about to pick up a solid suspect when they told me you wanted to see me.”

“That’s good. What happened with Congressman Morrison?”

Hatcher looked at him blankly.

“The congressman has lodged a complaint with us.”

Hatcher guffawed. “Based on what?”

“Based on what he claims was harassment by you. He said you threatened him.”

“The hell I did.”

“He claims you threatened to cuff him in a public restaurant to humiliate him.”

“Morrison is slime, Chief. He gave me a hard time. Hell, we—Detective Hall was with me—accommodated the bastard by meeting him across the river, and then he gives me this talk about how we’re both men and men have needs and…” He waved away the need to continue.

“Do you have any evidence linking him to the murder?”

“He was one of the hooker’s clients. He’s on tape. You saw it yourself.”

“And he’s a respected member of Congress, Hatch. He’s not your everyday, run-of-the-mill john. Have you checked his whereabouts the night of the murder?”

“He said he had to consult his calendar. He’s supposed to call us today about it. We gave him a break. He’s probably doctoring his calendar as we speak.”

“That may be,” said Carter, “but lay off him unless you have tangible reasons to label him a suspect.”

Hatcher’s grunt was noncommittal.

“Are you hearing me, Detective?”

“Yeah, I’m hearing you.”

“I met earlier this morning with Detectives Williams and Shrank.”

The mention of their names prompted a promise of nausea. It passed.

“They’re willing to drop their charges against you.”

“That’s really nice of them,” Hatcher said.

“I wouldn’t be sarcastic if I were you.”

Hatcher leaned forward in his chair. “They had no business