Page 47 of The Watchmaker's Hand

He might just as easily have said, “I want to shrink the perimeter by six inches.” Or something equally nonsensical.

Pulaski said, “Can I talk to you in private, sir?”

The answer apparently was no.

Burdick stood his ground and spoke more loudly yet for the reporters happily witnessing the intramural squabbling. “Look. I’ve been an investigator longer than you’ve been on the force. You don’t need to expand it.” He looked around and pointed across the street to an abandoned tenement, which he seemed to have picked at random. “And you need to search that building. It’s critical. I know it. Instinct, I can tell.”

A structure that had been boarded up for months if not years and in front of which was a dusty sidewalk and entryway that showed no evidence of foot traffic in recent days.

Pulaski lowered his voice. “Are you sure you don’t want to take this private? Just step over to the van.”

Burdick’s icy voice: “You’re Patrol, right?”

“Correct.”

“You’re not in uniform.”

“I’m temporarily assigned to Crime Scene.”

“Name?”

“Pulaski, Ron.”

“Well, Pulaski, Ron. I’m a deputy inspector. You don’t take me out behind the woodshed. I take you.”

“Seniority isn’t the issue. I need the street cleared. There could be evidence that everybody’s walking over right now.”

“You do not need the street cleared. You need to search that building.”

He happened to be pointing to the structure next door to the building he had previously indicated. He’d mixed them up.

Pulaski said firmly, “This’s my crime scene. I control it. I need you to move forty feet in that direction.”

The look of astonishment was remarkable.

In a finger-snap, it turned to rage. And then a snide smile appeared. “Thin ice, Patrolman.”

He’d embarrassed the dep inspector in front of the press.

A cardinal sin.

Pulaski whispered in response, “We had the chance to keep this between us. Now I’m going to ask you once more to move back. And if you don’t, I’m detaining you for obstruction of justice. And I’ll use restraints if I have to.”

Burdick called, “Detective Sanchez! Detective Sanchez!”

The man ambled up. “Sir?”

“I’m suspending this officer effective immediately. You’ll keep the scene secure until another CSU officer arrives.”

Sanchez glanced from Burdick to Pulaski and back again. “It’s his scene, Deputy Inspector. He makes the calls.”

“But not if he’s being incompetent. And insubordinate. I’m relieving him of command.”

Pulaski frowned. There was no procedure for this that he’d heard of. Sanchez’s face revealed that the idea was alien to him as well.

“Can’t do it, sir. You know he’s working for Lincoln Rhyme.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m not impressed.”

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