I’m getting royally screwed, a voice inside me declared. They wouldn’t do this to a man.
“Chris Raleigh,” Mr. City Hall Hotshot said, extending his hand.
I didn’t reach out to take it.
“For the past few years,” Roth went on, “Captain Raleigh has worked as a Com
munity Action liaison with the mayor’s office. He specializes in managing potentially sensitive cases.”
“Managing?”
Raleigh rolled his eyes at me. He was trying to be self-effacing. “Containing… controlling the damage… healing any wounds in the community afterwards.”
“Oh,” I shot back, “you’re a marketing man.”
He smiled. Every part of him oozed a practiced, confident air I associated with the kind of men who sat around large tables at City Hall.
“Before that,” Roth went on, “Chris was a district captain over in Northern.”
“That’s Embassy Row.” I sniffed. Everybody joked about the blue-blooded Northern district, which ranged from Nob Hill to Pacific Heights. Hot crimes there were society women who heard noises outside their town houses and late-arriving tourists locked out of their bedand-breakfasts.
“We also handled traffic around the Presidio,” Raleigh countered with another smile.
I ignored him. I turned to Roth. “What about Warren?” He and I had shared every case for the past two years.
“Jacobi’ll be reassigned. I’ve got a plum job for him and his big mouth.”
I didn’t like leaving my partner behind, dumb-ass wisecracks and all. But Jacobi was his own worst enemy.
To my surprise, Raleigh asked, “You okay with this, Inspector?”
I didn’t really have a choice. I nodded yes. “If you don’t get in the way. Besides, you wear nicer ties than Jacobi.”
“Father’s Day present.” He beamed. I couldn’t believe I felt a tremor of disappointment shooting through me. Jesus, Lindsay. I didn’t see a ring. Lindsay!
“I’m taking you off all other assignments,” Roth announced. “No conflicting obligations. Jacobi can handle the back end, if he wants to stay on the case.”
“So who’s in charge?” I asked Cheery. I was senior partner to Jacobi; I was used to running my own cases.
Roth chortled. “He works with the mayor. He’s an ex–district captain. Who do you think’s in charge?”
“How about, in the field you lead?” Raleigh suggested. “What we do with what we find is mine.”
I hesitated, giving him an evaluating stare. God, he was so smooth.
Roth looked at me. “You want me to ask Jacobi if he’s got similar reservations?”
Raleigh met my eyes. “Look, I’ll let you know when we can’t work it out.”
It was as good a negotiation as I was going to get. The deal had changed. But at least I kept my case. “So what do I call you? Captain?”
With a casual ease, Raleigh tossed a light brown sport coat over his shoulder and reached for the door. “Try my name. I’ve been a civilian now for five years.”
“Okay, Raleigh,” I said with a faint smile. “You ever get to see a dead body while you were in Northern?”
Chapter 13
THE JOKE IN HOMICIDE about the morgue was that in spite of the lousy climate, the place was good for business. There’s nothing like the sharp smell of formaldehyde or the depressing sheen of hospital-tiled halls to make the drudgery of chasing down dead leads seem like inspired work.