A Fate Worse Than Death

Cheers and whistles erupted in the robbery-homicide squad room as Steven walked through the door without his arm sling. He laughed in surprise and embarrassment. “Stop! All I did was get shot. I didn’t even arrest anybody.”

Lyle stood up from behind his desk and walked over to give him a brief man hug and a gentle pat on the back. “Glad you’re back, buddy. The criminal element has raged out of control while you were gone.”

Steven acknowledged the continued attention of his fellow detectives with a shake of his head and sat down at his desk opposite Lyle’s. Farber came out of his office, a big smile on his face.

“I could say that Ziggy turned out to be a bigger pain in the neck than you thought, but I won’t because you might throw your stapler at me.”

Steve grimaced. “Your pitiful joke is more painful than the bullet.”

“Well, no worries about Ziggy. He got aired out with about twenty bullets. He’s about as dead as anybody can get.”

“Everybody cleared?”

“For shooting a dirtbag who was trying to murder a cop? You bet. No problems there.”

“How about Lori Lou?”

“We took her in and questioned her, but she refused to say anything about anybody. She said if we kept her there, she’d lawyer up. She’s in the wind now. Probably found herself another biker to treat her like crap.”

“Probably.” Steven pasted as pleasant a look as he could muster in the direction of Farber. “You know, Lieutenant, I’m perfectly fine now. I’m ready for more than desk duty. I can handle being out in the field when the need arises.”

“You’re riding a desk for the next week, no ands, ifs, or buts. Doctor’s orders. No amount of complaining will do you any good.”

Looking only slightly defeated, Steven said, “Okay, I’ll go through the cases we have and see what I can do.”

“Sounds like a plan, big guy.”

Lyle had been paying close attention. “I could use your help on the human smuggling case. We’re still nowhere with that. The FBI came in to ‘help’ us”—he made quote marks in the air—“but with them it’s all take and no give.”

Steven shrugged. “Big surprise. I’ll check for updates from the last couple of weeks if there’s any. What are you working on?”

“The Sam Clemente murder. It looks like it was personal, might have something to do with Clemente maybe fooling around with Jack Sandusky’s wife. But Sandusky has an airtight alibi, and we haven’t found any leads to lead us to the hitter. Helmsley and I are going to talk to Sandusky again and see what we can shake loose about his dealings with Clemente.”

“I’d like to be there.”

“I hear ya, but we need to get on this before it gets ice-cold.”

“I’ll be here feeling sorry for myself should you need me.”

Lyle took his Glock out of his desk drawer and grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. “If I had a wife as beautiful as yours, I’d never leave home.”

Steven watched him stop briefly at Sergeant Helmsley’s desk, and then the two of them went out. If only beauty were everything, he thought. Then he started up his computer.