Final Justice (Badge of Honor 8)
Page 101
“Olivia’s on her way to the Roundhouse to deliver the pictures to Washington-”
“He’s not there,” D’Amata interrupted. “He called to say if I needed him, if we needed him, he’s going to take another look at the Roy Rogers.”
“He’s going to meet with O’Hara, Harris, and the black kid witness at five o’clock, to start all over again.”
“So he told me.”
“Olivia’s going from the Roundhouse to see the Williamsons.”
“Olivia is, is she?”
“Fuck you, Joe.”
“I think that’s what they call ‘verbal abuse of a subordinate, ’ Sergeant. You’ll be hearing from the FOP.”
“Then fuck you twice, Joe,” Matt said.
D’Amata laughed.
“You have the Williamson mother’s address?” Matt asked.
“No, but I probably can get it from Detective Lassiter.”
“I’ve got her cell number. You need it?”
“Yeah.”
Matt gave it to him, then said, “Tell her that I said I want her to introduce you to the Williamsons as the lead detective on the case. Maybe ‘senior homicide investigator’ would be better.”
There was a pause while D’Amata considered that.
“Lassiter’s got them calmed down, and we want to show them how hard we’re working, right?”
“Yeah. Make sense to you?”
“Yeah. That Philly Phil asshole business is still dangerous. My wife called and asked me what the hell was wrong with the uniforms, they didn’t take the door.”
“Well, let’s keep the Williamsons stroked.”
“Consider it done,” D’Amata said. “If anything comes up, I’ll call you.”
“Same here.”
“That digital camera’s a long shot, Matt. But let’s hope we get lucky.”
“Amen, Brother.”
Sergeant Zachary Hobbs, a stocky, ruddy-faced forty-four-year — old, was holding down the desk in Homicide when Detective Lassiter walked through the outer door.
Detective Kenneth J. Summers, who should have been working the desk, was meeting a lengthy call of nature, which he blamed on something he must have eaten at the church supper of St. Paul’s Lutheran Church the previous evening.
“Can I help you?” Hobbs asked. He was not immune to Detective Lassiter’s looks.
“Lieutenant Washington?”
“I’m sorry, he’s not here.”
“Captain Quaire?”