The Blind Pig Read Online Free

that Mulheisen had inherited a great fortune and was therefore just working the street for his own entertainment. He also believed that Mulheisen had secret connections with the very highest figures in police and political circles, not only in the city but in the state. It was true that Mulheisen's late father had been a union official and a tireless worker for the Democratic party. In later years Mulheisen père had held public positions that were political appointments. But the wealth and the influence were largely in Buchanan's mind.
    Johns now explained to Buchanan that Maki was busy on Mutt and Jeff, and Ayeh would probably be assisting Mulheisen, anyway.
    “Okay, okay,” Buchanan said. He gathered his papers with a sigh and put them into his briefcase. He turned to an attractive blond woman with a figure that even a police uniform did nothing to diminish. She was Buchanan's driver and secretary. “Take me to my leader,” he said. He said that every morning.
    On the way out, Buchanan saw Mulheisen standing by the teletype machine, smoking a large cigar. He nodded slightly to Mulheisen and hurried by. Mulheisen did not acknowledge the faint greeting.
    Mulheisen beckoned to Lieutenant Johns. Johns responded. One of Johns's virtues was that he was intelligent enough to know that neither Buchanan nor himself ran the detectives in the 9th. Mulheisen did. It was not stated—not by Mulheisen and not by Johns. Mulheisen was kind enough to pretend that it was otherwise.
    “I've got to have Ayeh,” Mulheisen said to Johns.
    “I thought you would.”
    “And Jensen and Field, too.”
    Johns scratched his balding head for a moment. “Okay,” he said. He started to walk away.
    “Wait a minute,” Mulheisen said. “What did Buck have to say about the shooting?”
    “Nothing,” Johns said.
    “Nothing at all?” Mulheisen considered this, then said, “I guess I should have known. The man is dead, therefore no complainant.”
    On his way back to his office Mulheisen encountered Dennis the Menace. “What are you doing here this time of the morning?” Mulheisen asked. “I thought I saw you out on the Street about midnight.”
    “Can't keep away from the place,” said the Big 4 boss. He followed Mulheisen into the little cubicle that was supposed to be an office. With Noell in the room there wasn't much space left for Mulheisen and the desk.
    “Really?” Mulheisen said. “You don't have anything better to do?”
    Noell shrugged. “I got divorced a couple months ago. Really, though, I enjoy it down here. Always something going on. What's biting you?” He perched his two hundred and forty pounds on the corner of the desk and Mulheisen inadvertently looked to make sure the desk wasn't crumbling.
    Mulheisen dragged on his cigar. “It's nothing. I just had my analysis of Buchanan's character reinforced. He didn't even peep at that shooting last night.”
    “So? What's the big deal? The guy comes out shooting, so Stanos takes him off. Good riddance.”
    “He didn't have to blast him,” Mulheisen said calmly. “Stanos was only a step or two away from the guy. What happened to the old nightstick routine? You bat the guy on the arm and he drops his gun. If he keeps up the funny business you spike him in the gut with the stick, or raise a knot on his head.”
    The Menace shook his head. “Old-fashioned,” he said. “They still teach that crap at the Academy, but no one listens anymore. That's ‘Steal an apple, Officer Flaherty’ stuff. We don't have beat cops anymore, Mul. We got patrolmen. You know what they're up against out there?” Noell gestured vaguely toward the traffic outside Mulheisen's window, presumably to indicate a vast criminal population at large. “They got M-sixteens. They smuggled ‘em home from ‘Nam. What do we got? Popguns.”
    Mulheisen noticed Dennis's “popgun,” prominently displayed on his hip. As the chief of the Big 4, it was not Noell's style to be subtle, hence the Colt