Page 70 of Lion & Lamb

“Can you shake down an address for me?”

“Sure,” Victor replied. “Just as soon as you stop talking like a 1950s private eye.”

“Be kind to your favorite employer. I’ve had a rough day.”

“Mickey Bernstein, right?”

“How did you know?”

“How did I know what? Mickey’s been the puzzle piece that hasn’t fit this whole time. I figured you’d eventually want to go knocking on his door. Okay, got a pen?”

“Hang on. You found it that easily? What, do you have access to the home addresses of all Philly cops?” Cooper knew quite a few guys on the force, and they were super-cautious about any scraps of personal information leaking out on the internet. They often came to him looking for the name of a good web cleaner, a high-tech private eye (of sorts) who would scrub all traces of them off the web. Not that this helped them when dealing with a specialist like Victor Suarez.

There was a strange sound on the other end of the line, like an elephant clearing its throat. Cooper quickly realized this was the sound of Victor Suarezlaughing.

“Good one, boss.”

“Whatever. Let me have the address.”

“You want the rundown on his wife and kids too?”

Cooper knew Victor was kidding. At least, hehopedhe was kidding.

Chapter73

FOR DECADES,Northeast Philadelphia had felt almost like a suburb, a place somehowapartfrom the city, even though it rested firmly within the city limits. The lawns were wider, the houses slightly bigger. For years, it had been a haven for middle-class families fleeing the blue-collar neighborhoods of the inner city. But recently it had become a glorious melting pot, much like the rest of Philly.

Except for this part of it.

Mickey Bernstein’s slice of Northeast Philly held on to that 1950s white-flight feeling—outsiders most certainlynotwelcome. This neighborhood was so far to the northeast, it was practically Bucks County.

Cooper pulled up in front of the homicide detective’s house. A massive lawn crawled up to the main entrance of the Colonial-style home and its three-car garage, from which hung a tasteful Eagles flag, the new white Bronco parked outside. Whatever job Bernstein was doing on the side clearly had its perks.

What was Cooper thinking, taking the fight to Bernstein? He knew this was a total grade-school move:You showed up at my place, I’m gonna show up at yours. Only I’m not going to hide in a white Bronco.

No, it wasn’t that. Cooper wanted to talk to Bernstein face-to-face. He was tired of being brushed off and chased away. He wanted straight answers.

Cooper pounded on Bernstein’s door with the side of his fist. Inside, a dog yip-yip-yip-yipped like it had lost its fool mind. Cooper pounded again.That’s right, pooch, wake up your owner. And the owner’s wife and kids while you’re at it. Let’s get the whole family down here to talk about Daddy Detective’s afternoon with Maya Rain.

Slowly the house creaked to life. An upstairs light switched on. Blinds were parted with fingers, then shut again. The dog continued to express its very strong feelings about the visitor at the front door. Slippered feet slapped their way down a hardwood staircase. A vestibule light flickered to life. The door opened. A blinking murder cop looked at him.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Bernstein said.

“Clearly you had an urgent need to see me,” Cooper said. “Figured I’d save you the trouble of coming to my place again.”

“It’s two in the goddamn morning. Who gave you my address?”

“Tell me, Mickey, back in the academy, didn’t they teach you that dating the nanny of a murder victim’s family might not be thebestlook?”

“Get the hell out of here.”

Bernstein was wearing a robe, but Cooper could tell that was for show. The homicide detective had none of the telltale signs of sleep, and his breath carried the sweet-sharp odor of whiskey.

The yipping dog—some indeterminate breed that reminded Cooper of a dust mop—appeared between Bernstein’s legs to complain a bit more. Cooper forced a smile as he locked eyes with the noisy little bastard and reached into his jacket pocket.

“Hey!” Bernstein said. “Keep your hands where I can see them!”

“Easy,” Cooper replied. He pulled a small plastic baggie of dog treats out of his pocket. “Lupe loves these things. I think your pooch will go crazy for them.”

---