Domingo plucked up a pack of cigarettes from a table, lighted one. âSo?â
âSo, letâs talk about Angie Horowitz.â
Domingo blew out smoke and scratched at the hair on his chest. âNever heard of her.â
âFunny, we got word you were one of her regulars, and her main supplier.â
âYou got the wrong word.â
âMaybe you donât recognize the name.â Alex reached into his inside jacket pocket, and his fingers brushed over his leather shoulder harness as he pulled out a manila envelope. âWhy donât you take a look?â He stuck the police shot under Domingoâs nose and watched his olive complexion go a sickly gray. âLook familiar?â
âMan.â Domingoâs fingers shook as he brought his cigarette to his lips.
âProblem?â Alex glanced down at the photo himself. There hadnât been much left of Angie for the camera. âOh, hey, sorry about that, Jesús. Malloy, didnât I tell you not to put the dead shot in?â
Judd shrugged, feigning casualness. He was thinking he was glad he didnât have to look at it again himself. âGuess I made a mistake.â
âYeah.â All the while he spoke, Alex held the photo where Domingo could see it. âGuyâs a rookie,â he explained. âAlways screwing up. You know. Poor little Angie sure got sliced, didnât she? Coroner said the guy put about forty holes in her. You can see most of them. Poor Malloy here took one look and lost his breakfast. I keep telling him not to eat those damned greasy Danishes before we go check out a stiff, but like I saidâ¦â Alex grinned to himself as Domingo made a dash for the bathroom.
âThat was cold, Stanislaski,â Judd said, grinning.
âYeah, Iâm that kind of guy.â
âAnd I didnât throw up my breakfast.â
âYou wanted to.â The sounds coming from the bathroom were as unpleasant as they get. Alex tapped on the door. âHey, Jesús, you okay, man? Iâm really sorry about that.â He passed the photo and envelope to Judd. âTell you what, let me get you some nice cold water, okay?â
The answer was a muffled retch that Alex figured anyone could take for assent. He moved into the kitchen and opened the freezer. The two kilos were exactly where Rosalie had said heâd find them. He took one out just as Domingo rushed in.
âYou got no warrant. You got no right.â
âI was getting you some ice.â Alex turned the frozen cocaine overin his hands. âThis doesnât look like a TV dinner to me. What do you think, Malloy?â
By leaning a shoulder against the door jamb, Judd blocked the doorway. âNot the kind my mother used to make.â
âYou son of a bitch.â Domingo wiped his mouth with a clenched fist. âYou violated my civil rights. Iâll be out before you can blink.â
âCould be.â Taking an evidence bag out of his pocket, Alex slipped both kilos inside. âMalloy, why donât you read our friend his rights while heâs getting dressed? And, Jesús, try some mouthwash.â
Â
âStanislaski,â the desk sergeant called out when Alex came up from seeing Domingo into a cell. âYou got company.â
Alex glanced over toward his desk, seeing that several cops were huddled around it. There was quite a bit of laughter overriding the usual squad room noise. Curiosity had him moving forward even before he saw the legs. Legs he recognized. They were crossed at the knee and covered almost modestly in a canary-yellow skirt.
He recognized the rest of her, too, though the tough little body was clad in a multihued striped blazer and a scoop-necked blouse the same color as the skirt. Half a dozen slim columns of gold danced at her ears as she laughed. She looked better, sexier, he was forced to admit, with her mouth unpainted, her freckles showing, and those big green