city blues 02 - angel city blues Read Online Free

get that key, Detective. I’d rather not run over you to do it, but I will get it. Do you understand?”
    “I... understand,” Bruhn said.
    Vivien nodded. “Excellent.”
    Bruhn paused for a second. “Why are you doing this?”
    “I want my daughter back, Vivien said flatly.
    “Obviously,” Bruhn said. “But I don’t understand why you aren’t letting us handle it. I thought you guys were big time pro-cop. It seems like I can’t turn on the vid without catching a sound byte of your husband painting himself up like Mr. Law-and-Order. Cops have a friend in the Government . Is that all just bullshit?”
    “Not at all,” Vivien said. “My husband is quite sincere; I assure you. He really does think he’s a one man crusade against crime. But he has his agenda, and I have mine.”
    Bruhn didn’t bother to mask his scowl. “So, as far as you’re concerned, cops can pretty much stuff it?”
    Vivien flashed him a sardonic little smile. “I didn’t say anything like that. I happen to agree with about ninety percent of the senator’s political beliefs. You and your fellow officers are overworked, underpaid, and improperly supported. Despite that, you manage to do a pretty damned good job most of the time. I respect that, and I am grateful to you for doing it.”
    Bruhn cocked his head and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “But you’re still going to yank my chain?”
    Vivien shook her head. “I have no desire to yank your chain, Detective. But I would dance naked in the streets if I thought it would bring Leanda back even ten seconds sooner. If you find her, I will be forever in your debt. Mr. Stalin is here in case you don’t find her. Think of him as a frightened mother’s insurance policy.”
    Bruhn turned his eyes to me. “I think you’re throwing your money away,” he said.
    “It’s my money,” Vivien said. “I’m certainly entitled to throw it away.”
    “I guess so,” Bruhn said.
    “I know so,” Vivien said. “Now, unless you have something other than opinion to add to this conversation, that will be all.”
    Bruhn stared for a second before it occurred to him that he was actually being dismissed. He straightened up, turned on his heel, and began walking toward his car.
    When he was out of earshot, I nodded in his direction. “You could have gotten the files without stepping on him. You could have made a single call to one of your gophers, and gotten what you wanted in half the time.”
    “Of course,” Vivien said. “In fact, I already have a copy of the files, current up to a couple of days ago.”
    “You just wanted to kick him in the balls?”
    The expression on Vivien’s face said that I had missed some crucial point in her exchange with Bruhn. She paused for a few seconds. “Are you armed, Mr. Stalin?”
    I pulled back the left side of my windbreaker to reveal the 12mm Blackhart riding in my shoulder holster.
    “Could you shoot Detective Bruhn from here?”
    “Why on Earth would I want to do that?”
    “I didn’t ask if you would ,” Vivien said. “I asked if you could .”
    I looked through the window at Bruhn’s retreating back. “Yes,” I said.
    “Could you hit him?”
    I gauged the distance and his dwindling size. “Probably.”
    “How?” she asked.
    “I don’t understand,” I said.
    “How would you do it? Or, more precisely, what gives you the ability to do it? I assume there is a certain amount of skill involved.”
    “Some,” I said. “And also some practice.”
    Vivien said, “Exactly. Your weapon—one of them, anyway—is that cannon you call a pistol. You know how to aim it, and you know when to pull the trigger.”
    I nodded.
    “I have my own weapons,” she said. “I know how to aim them, and I know when to pull the trigger.”
    She sighed. “I didn’t enjoy rubbing Detective Bruhn’s nose in the dirt, but someone should have explained the rules to him as soon as he took over the case. Evidently that didn’t happen, so it’s