Free Dying to Know by T. J. O'Connor

inventory list of all the
    items. He recorded all but the loose papers and stopped. One of
    the papers wasn’t a paper at all but a business card. He turned it over and dropped it on his desk. When he did, I saw several
    numbers scrawled on it. The numbers weren’t familiar and there
    was no name.
    “Ah, Bear? You look like you could use some coffee.”
    “Yeah, coffee.” He frowned and rubbed his eyes. “Shit, I’m los-
    ing it—again.”
    A cup of black coffee later and he was back at his desk. He
    picked up the folded papers, read them, logged them on his list,
    and set them aside. Then, he picked up the business card and
    read it. Something on the card struck him and he began nod-
    ding. Instead of recording the card on his list, he slipped it into his shirt pocket.
    “Bear? You can’t do that. It’s evidence.”
    Nothing.
    “Braddock, what the hell are you doing here?” Captain Sutter
    emerged from her office and startled us both “You should be
    home, sleeping.”
    “Sure, Boss. I’m Bear just sorting some things out.”
    “Go home.” Her voice left no room for negotiation. “Now.”
    76
    “Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” He stuffed the folded pieces of paper
    back into the envelope and slipped it into his pants pocket. “Boss, what’s the idea of putting Clemens and Spence on Tuck’s case?”
    Captain Sutter came over and leaned against his desk. “I have
    to have a clean investigation. One wrong move and any defense
    attorney could have a field day. You were his partner—let alone
    anything else. You can’t investigate this one, so stay clear.”
    “What ‘anything else?’”
    “You know what I mean.”
    “No, I don’t.”
    “Spel it out, Captain.” Bear watched her with curt, angry eyes.
    “What ‘anything else?’”
    “You’re too close to Angela. You can’t be objective. Plain and
    simple.”
    “Come on, Captain.” He pounded a heavy fist onto the desk
    sending papers to the floor. “No way in hell she’s involved.”
    “That’s my point. Everyone’s a suspect, Bear—including her.
    When a cop goes down, even the frigging dog is a suspect.”
    “Hercule has an alibi,” I yelled.
    She changed the subject. “What about this break-in at Profes-
    sor Stuart’s house this morning?”
    He shrugged. “No break-in at all as far as we know. Stuart’s
    convinced it’s all in her head. Our boys didn’t find anything. I
    think Stuart’s right.”
    “Can’t say I blame her. She’s been through hel .”
    Bear agreed.
    “How about that security guard killing?”
    77
    “Salazar?” Bear didn’t look interested. “He was found shot
    dead ten days ago just down the road from where he worked at
    Bartalotta’s warehouse. Tuck and I went to see Bartalotta but got
    nowhere. No witnesses. No evidence. No leads. All corpse and no
    clues, boss.”
    Raymundo Salazar—my last case. His name belonged on that
    strange file back home—the file Bear hid in my den.
    “Anything new on Tuck?” Bear’s tone was flat and oozed con-
    tempt. “Spence and Clemens are acting like there is.”
    “No,” she said. “Leave it alone, Bear.”
    He softened. “Okay, Cap.”
    “Look, we have no evidence. Someone got in and left no trace
    behind. The hit was clean and fast. If it weren’t for that dog, Angela might be dead, too.”
    “That’s right, the bastard shot my dog.” I pounded my fist on
    the desk, but despite my assault, not even Bear’s coffee rippled.
    “Hey, Bear, tell her about Tommy at the golf course.”
    Bear went rigid, but then shrugged and looked embarrassed.
    “Sorry, Cap. I get a buzz in my ears now and then. It’s driving me nuts. I’m just tired.”
    “What the hell, Bear? Tell her what he said about the New
    York Heavy. What’s up with you?”
    Captain Sutter crossed her arms and studied him. “You need
    to go get some sleep.”
    “Sure, Cap.”
    “First thing tomorrow, I want the entire Salazar file—every-
    thing.”
    “It’s all here, Cap.