Final Justice (Badge of Honor 8)

Matt got up and followed D’Amata into the outer room.

“What I usually do first, Sergeant,” D’Amata said, “is secure my replacement on the wheel.”

Matt nodded.

D’Amata raised his voice.

“Kramer, put the Hustler down and take the phone.”

Detective Alonzo Kramer, who appeared to be reading a large ledger at his desk, waved his hand to indicate he understood he was now up on the wheel.

Matt Payne wondered if he really had a copy of Hustler magazine hidden behind the green ledger. And decided he didn’t want to know.

“What I will do now, Sergeant,” Joe D’Amata said, punching numbers on a telephone, “is inform the very clever technicians assigned to the Mobile Crime Lab that their services are going to be required.”

Other detectives-who, Matt did not need to be told, were the squad who would work the case-began to gather around D’Amata’s desk.

D’Amata put the telephone handset in its cradle.

“With your permission, Sergeant, I will designate Detectives Reeves and Grose to remain behind. Reeves, who went to night school and now reads almost at the sixth-grade level, will research the victim, see what he can find out about her in the files-does she have a rap sheet, outstanding warrants, et cetera, et cetera. Grose, who can’t read at all, will seek out a judge to get us a search warrant for the premises.”

Detectives Grose and Reeves, having picked up on what was happening, were smiling.

“I’m sure you’re aware, Sergeant,” D’Amata went on, “that our beloved Lieutenant Washington is picky-picky about getting a search warrant before we even start rooting in garbage cans in search of evidence, and photographing the deceased.”

“He has made that point, Detective,” Matt said.

“Something to do, I believe, with slimeball lawyers getting critters off because the evidence was gained unlawfully. ”

“So I was led to believe,” Matt said.

“And I think, with your permission, Sergeant, that I will designate Detective Slayberg-that’s the fat one in the cheap suit.. ”

“Screw you, Joe,” Detective Slayberg said, but he was smiling.

“… as the recorder. He’s very good at describing premises. ”

“So I usually get stuck with that, Sergeant,” Slayberg said.

“Many years ago,” Matt said mock seriously, “when I was a young police officer, I made the mistake of letting my sergeant know I could type with all the fingers on both hands.”

The others chuckled.

“Boy,” Slayberg said, “with all possible respect, Sergeant, that was a dumb fucking thing to do.”

“So I learned,” Matt said.

There were more chuckles.

“So now, these little details out of the way, and with your permission, Sergeant, I think we should proceed to the scene.”

“Absolutely.”

“With just about everybody working the Roy Rogers job, Matt, we’re a little short of wheels. You mind if Slayberg and I ride out there with you? Or did Quaire beat you out of that new car you brought with you?”

“Not yet,” Matt said. “But then, I haven’t been here very long.”

I wonder why Quaire didn’t grab the car?