Fine Blue Steele (Daggers & Steele Book 4) Read Online Free Page B

themselves. Instead, the crowns were spent in the hire of teams of roving mercenaries who would impound the homeless, load them onto carts, and drive them into the countryside where they’d be unceremoniously dumped.
    The plan had only a couple minor problems. The first was that the homeless, despite their excessive quantities of hair and dubious aromas, were a crafty folk. They realized they had appendages attached to their hips, known as legs, that would allow them to walk back to the city. The second problem was that the city hall-sanctioned thugs roaming the streets realized their pay would cease as soon as the hobo infestation cleared, so they began to drop off the impounded bums closer and closer to the city to ensure their continued employment.
    Of course, the city eventually caught word of the scam, so they cancelled the program altogether, which only made things worse because the majority of the mercenaries then joined the ranks of the homeless.
    I wrinkled my nose as I walked into the alley, greeted by the ever-too-familiar aroma of stale urine. It was at times like these I wished the city’s efforts to eradicate the homeless had succeeded, but then again, if our nation’s finest couldn’t even be counted on not to relieve themselves against lonely brick walls, what did it matter?
    I heard a rustling, and a couple street people at the far end of the alley made themselves scarce, darting into a cross street. I grunted. We might have to round them up later. One of them might’ve seen or heard something of significance.
    At my side, Shay dropped to one knee to inspect a wall. A mask of impassiveness shadowed her face, which was no small feat given her sense of smell was notably better than mine.
    “I don’t think you’re going to find the murder weapon embedded in that abandoned bar’s exterior grout,” I said.
    Steele ignored my jab. “Seeing as we’re dealing with red brick, I’ll forgive you for not noticing, but there are blood splatters here.”
    I leaned forward to get a better look, but I honestly couldn’t make out a thing. I did notice a patch of dirt at my feet that seemed darker than those surrounding it, though. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”
    Shay leaned over to a scuff mark on the wall and gave it a rub with her thumb. I walked over to a collection of trashcans, where I found Quinto standing, staring at them, with his hands on his hips.
    I clapped the big guy on the back. “Ah, the joys of police work. Am I right, old friend?”
    “Yeah,” rumbled Quinto. “Nothing gives me more joy than sifting through piles of stinking refuse in search of bloody instruments of death.”
    I grabbed a can and tipped it over, spilling its guts all over the alley floor.
    “Hey, Steele,” I called. “You going to come over and help?”
    “Sorry,” she said, her voice oddly melodious. “I’m busy with these scuff marks at the moment. Besides, my elite observational abilities would be wasted digging through trash.”
    I couldn’t see her face as she had it pressed against the wall, but I was sure she sported a malicious grin.
    Quinto snorted and adopted a similar smile as he dumped another can’s contents on the ground. “I think she means our skills, on the other hand, are ideally suited to rifling through garbage.”
    “Hey, I can live with that,” I said. “It means I have job security. There’s always a demand for guys like me. Guys willing to get dirty in the line of duty.”
    I dug Daisy out of the interior of my coat and gingerly used her to poke through the trash, making sure to keep my fingers clear of the gross rubbish.
    Quinto shook his head. “Have you ever looked up ‘hypocrite’ in the dictionary?”
    “There aren’t any pictures, if that’s what you’re getting at,” I said. “I learned that early on in life while looking up ‘gullible.’”
    The big lug nodded at my nightstick. “How’s Daisy feel about being used in such denigrating fashion?”
    “She