Page 39 of Stand By You
Carlton put his hands up, palms out as if that would prevent the bullet from hitting him, but it didn’t. The gun fired and hit him point blank, in the center of the chest, sending his office chair skittering back away from the desk into the wall. His head banged against it with a thud, and he gasped his last breath, falling to the floor.
CHAPTER 12
The phone rang,waking detective Simons from a deep sleep. “Your car had better be on fire, McIlroy,” he told the undercover officer.
“Sorry to wake you, detective but you said to call anytime if there is something that comes up that seems to be a problem,” McIlroy defended hastily.
“I gathered or you wouldn’t be calling me at two in the morning,” Simons said leaving his bedroom before the call woke his wife, Connie. She at least deserved to get a full night’s sleep. “So out with it.”
“I was following Robert and Judy Reyes this evening like I was ordered. I was on their tail when there was a sobriety check point. They got through easy enough, but I didn’t because the woman in the car in front of me got out and was being a real ass about the check point. I tried to get the officers’ attention, but they had their hands full. I swear that woman couldn’t weigh more than ninety pounds wet, but boy did she take three officers to get her back in her car and out of the way.”
Simons wasn’t liking where this was going and a knot formed in his gut.
“So, you lost then? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Yes and no,” McIlroy said. “Once I got through the check point I did finally catch up to a car that looked to be the same make, model, color, and it even had two passengers. I stayed the required distance behind, but I realized when we were nearing the Georgia line that it wasn’t the Reyes’ car. The plate was wrong.”
“Georgia! Christ. McIlroy, did you just graduate from the academy or something? I’m going to bust you back down to desk duty for this screw up.” Simons leaned his head against the wall. “Tell me you have circled back to the Reyes’ house to see if they are there?”
“I did. And they are,” he said. “At least both cars. The house was dark, and I couldn’t verify who was inside without committing a B and E.”
“Did you at least check in with Willard who was watching Geneva to see if she stayed in all evening?” Simons asked, running a hand over his now aching head.
“Yes, sir. And she did.”
“At least that’s something,” Simons barked. “Don’t let them out of your sight.”
Ending the call, he banged his head against the wall a few times grumbling about incompetent underlings. When he looked up, he found Connie standing there in her bathrobe, frowning at him.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you,” he said.
“It wasn’t your fault you got that call,” Connie said, coming to give him a hug. “Come back to bed before we wake the boys and no one gets any sleep tonight.”
He nodded. When his phone rang again before they made it down the hall, he swore under his breath until he saw it was Kohl calling. Preparing himself for the worse, he hit the accept and asked, “What’s happened?”
“You better meet me at 345 W 25thCourt. A man’s been shot.” Kohl’s voice was grim.
“Damn. And we’re just the lucky detectives who are up to catch the next case?” Simons didn’t bother to hide his sarcasm.
“No,” Kohl said. “Those two bike messengers we’ve been looking for in connection to Travis McGinty found this man and showed up at the precinct blabbering all over themselves. It took the desk sergeant over an hour to calm them down enough to figure out it was our case and then he started calling. He just lucked up and reached me first and I told him I’d call you.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you at the crime scene. Put those two in one of the interrogation rooms on ice.”
“Will do,” Kohl said. “Do you want me to call Nick and Jillian?”
Simons thought for a moment. “We’ll be at the crime scene for a while. Let them sleep for now. Someone should get to sleep tonight.”
Connie patted him on the back. “Should I make you coffee while you dress?”
“Extra strong if you don’t mind,” he said, pulling her to him and kissing her on the cheek. “Thanks, hon.”
He was dressed and out the door, coffee in hand, in ten minutes, heading across town to the address that Kohl had given him trying to recall what his partner had said. Maybe it was the hour, but he couldn’t remember what the two bike messengers were doing to stumble across the dead body, but he’d find out. He was sure going to find out before the night was through.
Lights were flashing and a yellow crime scene tape was draped to keep unwanted onlookers from entering the area when he arrived at 345 W 25thCourt. The coroner’s van was parked out front so that meant a time of death may be possible already. He parked and hurried to the officer on duty, flashing his detective’s badge so he could get inside.
Kohl saw him and hurried over. “The coroner believes the victim, Carlton Delvecchio, died a little before ten tonight from a GSW.”
“That’s pretty exact timing,” Simons said. “Normally he gives us a two to three–hour window. What makes him believe it was that time?”
