The Squad Room Read Online Free Page B

the day. He was quite a cop; he took his job very seriously.” Morrison’s face broke out in a wide grin. “You know, before we were partners he worked Narcotics as an undercover—he had the whole long-haired biker look. One day he went into one of those old Blarney Stone Bar & Grills—you know, they have them all over the city; used to keep corned beef in the window, and all the old-time shot-and-beer guys with the spider veins in their noses hung out there. Pretty conservative places. Well, Officer Harrington walks in, looking like he just got off his low-rider, and they refuse to serve him. So he flips out, jumps over the bar, throws a bunch of hot corned beef at the bartender.”
    Rivera laughed. “What’d they do?”
    “One of the Sergeants responded and saved his ass. They wanted him arrested—they didn’t know he was a cop—but they had a problem with their liquor license, so one hand washed the other, and the whole thing blew over. They put him back in uniform after that, but he never forgot how they refused to serve him. He used to talk about how that experience showed him how it was for people to be judged by their appearance, how the blacks must suffer from that kind of prejudice, and all that. He couldn’t stand to see that kind of injustice. I remember when I was real young to the job, riding in a radio car with him in the wintertime, real freezing outside. We were patrolling, and all of a sudden he tells me to stop the car. I’m thinking, What do we got? Man with a gun? Drug deal? —but there’s no one on the street. Then I see we’re outside the Blarney Stone, and he gets out, picks up one of those metal trash cans from the corner, and throws it right through their front window. Thenhe gets back in the car and asks me if I’m okay with it.”
    “That’s perfect, man,” laughed Rivera. “That’s really perfect. So what’d you say to that?”
    “I just shrugged and said, Okay with what? and we finished our tour. Next thing I know, he’s asking the roll call guy to make us steady partners.”
    “Sounds like a good guy.”
    “Yeah, I always liked working with him. But you know, even before he moved up in politics, we lost touch. You know how it goes—you just start moving in different circles, not running into each other as much.” A familiar, faraway look came over Morrison. “When Billy died—well, Harrington always had a thing about funerals, and he still went. He doesn’t go to them, ever; it’s not his style. I always respected him for that, for some reason. But he still went to Billy’s.”
    Rivera nodded. He wasn’t sure what to say: it seemed there was nothing to say. The silence rang between them.
    “Hey Cap, it’s late,” Rivera said finally, looking at his watch. “You and me both ought to get some sleep.” He rose to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to head in.”
    “All right,” Morrison said, a weary smile returning to him. There wouldn’t be much room at the inn tonight. “I’m just going to try to catch a few here, I think. Shut that door after you, will you?”
    “All right, you got it.”
    “Goodnight, Sergeant.”
    “Goodnight, Cap,” said Rivera; and a moment later, Morrison heard his footfalls sounding quietly down the hallway towards the dorm.

4
    Early the next day, Detectives and Sergeants began to roll out of the dorm for day two, hoping nothing else had come in overnight. Thankfully there was no sign of the Night Watch Squad as yet, so they knew they could take their time getting themselves together. Several detectives from the other specialty squads were already sticking their heads in to ask what the story was on Sutton Place, and though no one was talking at this point, the atmosphere was tense. Everyone knew a stubbed toe on Sutton Place could turn into a storm quickly, given a slow enough news day.
    The usual parade of useless bosses, which started practically with business hours, certainly didn’t help things. Whenever a