Three Shirt Deal (2008) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Stephen - Scully 07 Cannell
out the contents.
It was a wad of bills. I straightened the money and counted it carefully. Two hundred dollars. Exactly the amount that Tru was supposed to have killed his mother for.
Why hadn't Lt. Devine found it? Could he possibly be that careless?
Of course, that led me to a much bigger question. If Tru Hickman hadn't killed his mother for this money, then what the hell was his motive for the murder?
Chapter 4 .
I WENT BACK TO PARKER CENTER AND TOOK THE ELEVATOR TO the sixth floor to check on Alexa. I found her dressing down a new administrative assistant. Detective II Paul Paskerian was a clean-cut guy in a suit who had only been assigned up here since Alexa's return. Because you had to go through Paul to get to Alexa, and because cops love nicknames, everybody quickly took to calling Paskerian, "Pass Key."
"You can't post crime stats for homicide divisions on the COMSTAT board without a cross-reference to division troop strength," she scolded him. "What the hell is wrong with you, Paul? I can't do the percentages without the prime numbers. Do you think, just once, you could do something right?"
Paul turned and left, looking angry but resolute. Then Alexa glanced up at me.
"Not now, Shane."
"Jesus. What did / do?" I stood there looking at her, my hands on my hips, trying to decide which way to jump.
"I'm sorry. It's not you." She crossed quickly to the door and shut it with a little too much force. Before it closed, I saw her assistant Ellen frowning.
"I can't seem to get any decent help up here. This damn performance review of Tony's. . . . Why the hell am I wasting time defending my performance when I've got a city full of hitters out there? I should be doing my job instead of wasting a week covering my ass."
"I was wondering if you wanted to catch a bite downtown after work. You pick the joint."
"Can't you see what's going on here?" She motioned toward a stack of papers on her desk. "That stuff alone is just support figures for the city crime reports I did last year. I have to go through all this material and present it again." As she stood there looking it, without warning, her lower lip started to quiver. "Dammit, don't cry, Alexa," she ordered herself angrily as tears started to flow.
I went to her and took her into my arms. She is so beautiful and strong that sometimes I forget how vulnerable she's become recently. I held her and rubbed her back. She felt stiff. Her muscles jumped under my touch.
"Listen, honey, this performance review isn't the end of the world."
"What if Tony sacks me? What if he sends me down on a medical? I can't deal with this." She pushed away from me and turned back to her desk, looking down at the reports with frustration, gathering her emotions under her, getting set for another run at being tough.
"Alexa, you can only do so much. Ten months ago you were lying in a coma in the UCLA neurology ward. Nobody, including your doctors, thought you were going to survive, much less recover. I was advised to think about unhooking your life support. Now you're back here trying to manage two hundred detectives. You're not ready yet."
"I don't want to hear it, Shane. This is such bullshit. I just. . . I was out so long. I got behind. I'm swamped. It's not TBI or ABI or whatever Luther calls it, okay? It's just that this damn job never stops. Never slows down. I'm getting plowed under."
"I want you to come home with me. I want you to take a few days off."
"Are you nuts?"
"I got Cal to give me the time. We could go to Shutters in Santa Monica, get our favorite room overlooking the beach, let the RPMs slow a little. Talk, make love, have a laugh or two. Whatta you say?"
"What part of the word 'no' escapes your understanding? No, I don't want to go to Shutters. No, I don't want to fuck or have candlelight dinners. No, okay? I'm getting torched here. I gotta straighten this stuff out, get this right."
"Alexa, you're pushing people too hard. You can't make up for lost ground by going
It was a wad of bills. I straightened the money and counted it carefully. Two hundred dollars. Exactly the amount that Tru was supposed to have killed his mother for.
Why hadn't Lt. Devine found it? Could he possibly be that careless?
Of course, that led me to a much bigger question. If Tru Hickman hadn't killed his mother for this money, then what the hell was his motive for the murder?
Chapter 4 .
I WENT BACK TO PARKER CENTER AND TOOK THE ELEVATOR TO the sixth floor to check on Alexa. I found her dressing down a new administrative assistant. Detective II Paul Paskerian was a clean-cut guy in a suit who had only been assigned up here since Alexa's return. Because you had to go through Paul to get to Alexa, and because cops love nicknames, everybody quickly took to calling Paskerian, "Pass Key."
"You can't post crime stats for homicide divisions on the COMSTAT board without a cross-reference to division troop strength," she scolded him. "What the hell is wrong with you, Paul? I can't do the percentages without the prime numbers. Do you think, just once, you could do something right?"
Paul turned and left, looking angry but resolute. Then Alexa glanced up at me.
"Not now, Shane."
"Jesus. What did / do?" I stood there looking at her, my hands on my hips, trying to decide which way to jump.
"I'm sorry. It's not you." She crossed quickly to the door and shut it with a little too much force. Before it closed, I saw her assistant Ellen frowning.
"I can't seem to get any decent help up here. This damn performance review of Tony's. . . . Why the hell am I wasting time defending my performance when I've got a city full of hitters out there? I should be doing my job instead of wasting a week covering my ass."
"I was wondering if you wanted to catch a bite downtown after work. You pick the joint."
"Can't you see what's going on here?" She motioned toward a stack of papers on her desk. "That stuff alone is just support figures for the city crime reports I did last year. I have to go through all this material and present it again." As she stood there looking it, without warning, her lower lip started to quiver. "Dammit, don't cry, Alexa," she ordered herself angrily as tears started to flow.
I went to her and took her into my arms. She is so beautiful and strong that sometimes I forget how vulnerable she's become recently. I held her and rubbed her back. She felt stiff. Her muscles jumped under my touch.
"Listen, honey, this performance review isn't the end of the world."
"What if Tony sacks me? What if he sends me down on a medical? I can't deal with this." She pushed away from me and turned back to her desk, looking down at the reports with frustration, gathering her emotions under her, getting set for another run at being tough.
"Alexa, you can only do so much. Ten months ago you were lying in a coma in the UCLA neurology ward. Nobody, including your doctors, thought you were going to survive, much less recover. I was advised to think about unhooking your life support. Now you're back here trying to manage two hundred detectives. You're not ready yet."
"I don't want to hear it, Shane. This is such bullshit. I just. . . I was out so long. I got behind. I'm swamped. It's not TBI or ABI or whatever Luther calls it, okay? It's just that this damn job never stops. Never slows down. I'm getting plowed under."
"I want you to come home with me. I want you to take a few days off."
"Are you nuts?"
"I got Cal to give me the time. We could go to Shutters in Santa Monica, get our favorite room overlooking the beach, let the RPMs slow a little. Talk, make love, have a laugh or two. Whatta you say?"
"What part of the word 'no' escapes your understanding? No, I don't want to go to Shutters. No, I don't want to fuck or have candlelight dinners. No, okay? I'm getting torched here. I gotta straighten this stuff out, get this right."
"Alexa, you're pushing people too hard. You can't make up for lost ground by going
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