Page 66 of Paranoia

Terri nodded. “You’re right. It wouldn’t work in most cases.Too many people coming and going. But it sounds like it could be a pretty good idea at his place.”

Walter said, “I’ll talk to my fingerprint posse.”

Trilling looked at the big intelligence analyst and said, “Your what?”

Walter gave him a paternal smile. “I have friends in all kinds of fingerprint-analysis jobs. You know, the FBI, the Department of Defense, some high-tech businesses. I know people. We can get things moving really fast. All I need is one good print.”

Thank goodness it wasn’t like the old days when we had to sort through fingerprint cards. I appreciated how fast today’s electronic system could be, especially since a lot of older prints were already scanned into the system.

Like football players breaking the huddle, everyone rushed off to do their part of the job. Walter went to place some calls. Terri was called away on a different case and had to leave us. Trilling and I headed down in the elevator to the building’s entrance, aiming to drive over and get a hard copy of the victim’s fingerprints from the medical examiner.

Just as I was about to push open the front door of our building, something made me pause. Maybe I was getting skittish in my old age. I took a long moment to scan the cars parked under the elevated train tracks. It looked all clear.

CHAPTER 96

SITTING ATOP THE building with Joe was driving Kevin Doyle to distraction. The man was giving him a pounding headache. His efforts at small talk were maddening.

Out of the blue, Joe said, “I heard some of Bennett’s kids are Black and Hispanic. He even has an Oriental.”

“Asian.”

“You knew what I meant.”

Doyle muttered, “Dickhead.”

Then Joe went in a different direction. “I like chubby girls. What about you?”

Doyle just shrugged.

Joe said, “I like the way they work harder and seem nicer. You know, like girls with a little meat on their bones?”

Doyle said, “I like girls that avoid guys like you.”

“Funny. You’re a funny guy, Buddy. I bet the girls love that.For me, they like my cash. Not hookers, mind you. Regular girls. I used to go for Russians. Now I lean toward Puerto Ricans. We had some problems with the Russian mob and my boss won’t let us chase after their girls no more. Bummer. Russian girls can be really pretty.”

Doyle resisted some of the words that came to mind. “Asshole” was the main one. He had to remind himself that this was a single job, and he’d never have to see this talkative moron again. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

He caught movement at the front door of Bennett’s office building. Someone tall was paused at the door. It looked like Bennett was checking out the cars parked under the elevated track across the street. Doyle eased back down behind the low rise of the wall on the roof. He wondered if the detective had noticed some detail that made him hesitant to come outside.

There was no way Doyle wanted to deal with Joe another day. One way or the other they were ending this assignment here and now.

Then the front door to the office building opened and both Bennett and his young partner stepped outside.

Doyle tried to keep his voice calm. “Joe, get ready. Bennett’s outside.”

He was surprised how nimbly Joe moved into place behind the two-foot wall with the rifle. He stayed closer to the corner of the building and placed the barrel right across the top of the wall.

Joe squinted through the scope on the rifle. “I see him.”

Doyle, squatting next to Joe, shook his head. It wouldn’t be a hard shot once Bennett started walking toward his vehicle. That didn’t make it any easier to watch.

CHAPTER 97

I HADN’T GOTTEN more than three steps from the front door when Walter Jackson rushed out to meet us.

I’ll admit Walter’s health was starting to concern me. Hurrying to catch us had left him seriously winded. He leaned down with both hands on his knees while he caught his breath. I was worried he might fall to the ground. I even looked over my shoulder at Trilling to make sure I had help if needed. My spry partner was ready to jump in, I could tell.

Finally, Walter gulped in enough air to say, “Here are Roger Dzoriack’s prints. Just trying to save you a trip to the medical examiner’s. The prints were already in the system.”

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