Burn (Michael Bennett 7)
Page 43
PART THREE
BACK ON THE BEAT
CHAPTER 47
A MESSAGE TO CALL Chief of Detectives Ray Starkie was on my cluttered desk when I came in on Monday morning. I decided to answer it. Reluctantly.
“Bennett here,” I said.
“I want you in my office today at ten,” Starkie said, none too happy sounding. “You got it? Ten a.m. My office. This is not a request.”
“What’s this about?” I said. “Am I going to need a union rep? What the hell is it about?”
“Ten a.m.”
I decided to take Doyle downtown with me. If I was going to be ambushed or reprimanded by Starkie on some trumped-up garbage, I figured at least I’d have a witness along.
But there was a surprise waiting for me when I got off the elevator on Headquarters’ dreaded tenth floor. A good one, for a change. I smiled. Every dog really does have its day, after all, I thought as I came down the corridor.
Beside Starkie’s office door, in a conference room, I spotted Starkie with a small crowd of people sitting at a table. I was smiling because of some of the friendly faces I’d spotted in the crowd. One of them was my old boss, Miriam Schwartz, who gave me a wink. And another one was the police commissioner, Ricky Filkins.
I really was overjoyed to see Filkins. We went way back. The short, pugnacious, legendary cop had been my first precinct commander when I was a rookie in the early ’90s. The ex-marine lieutenant and Vietnam vet was a cop’s cop, tough and demanding but fair. He, too, had a huge family—seven kids. We’d tipped back more than a few together in Upper East Side bars on St. Paddy’s Days over the years.
I’m usually not one for kissing butt and taking advantage of the whole friends-in-high-places thing, but in this case, with Starkie gunning to make my work life a living hell, I quickly decided to make an exception.
I walked around the table and greeted the commissioner warmly.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” the square-jawed, flattopped Filkins said, smiling widely as he gripped my hand like a vise. “Heard you did good things out in California, Mike. Making the department look good even in exile, huh?”
“Ah, you’re making me blush, boss,” I said. “It was nothing. I mean, somebody had to show the feds what to do, right?”
“Who’s this?” Filkins said, gesturing behind me to Doyle, who looked like I’d just transported him to the top of Mount Olympus.
“This is my partner from the ombudsman squad, Jimmy Doyle.”
“The ombudsman squad. Yeah, I heard about your new assignment,” Filkins said, glancing across the glossy table at Starkie, who had taken the opportunity to thumb at an imaginary spot on his tie.
“You must be an impressive young investigator, son,” Filkins said as Doyle shook his hand. “I know Mike Bennett, and I know he doesn’t truck with any dead weight.”
“I, uh, try, sir,” Doyle managed to spit out.
“Well, sit, gentlemen, please,” Filkins said, offering us the seats on his right. “Unfortunately, Mike, we’re going to be reassigning you again,” the commissioner said after we were settled. “That’s the reason I had Chief Starkie call you in. Something’s come up, a real pain in my ass that I need you on.”
Miriam cleared her throat.
“You’re going to be loaned back to Major Crimes, Mike. Starting now,” she said.
“Major Crimes?” I said, taking the opportunity to turn and look at Starkie.
There have been many times in my life when I’ve been overcome with the irresistibly joyful urge to give somebody the finger. But getting to watch Starkie sit meekly in his seat like a neutered dog as I sat there smiling at him was an even more exquisite pleasure.
“Miriam will fill you in on the deets. We need you ramped up to speed pronto, Mike. What do you say? You want your old desk back?”
“You know me, Commissioner,” I said as I smiled again at Starkie. “I’m always here to do whatever the department needs me to do.”
CHAPTER 48
AFTER THAT UNEXPECTEDLY AWESOME departmental meeting, I shook the commish’s hand one last time and quickly headed with Doyle and Miriam Schwartz out of Starkie’s office for the Major Crimes Division’s new digs down on the fifth floor.