Free Among Thieves by David Hosp Page B

wasn’t
     a rookie, and who’d know to put the tape back up in front of the driveway.”
    “Been a while since I was a rookie. Been a while since I saw you.”
    “No shit? I’m old; time moves faster for me,” Kozlowski said. He looked Stone up and down. “I’d heard they put you in civies
     full time,” he acknowledged. “Vice?”
    Stone shook his head. “Homicide.”
    “No shit, again. A real job? I guess they’ll take anyone these days, then, huh?”
    “They have to. We used to have a bunch of old guys who fucked things up pretty bad.”
    “I never fucked up a case in my life,” Kozlowski growled.
    “No, you never did,” Stone admitted. “You just pissed off the wrong people in the department.” He moved forward and put out
     his hand. “How you been?”
    Kozlowski shook the hand. “Getting by.”
    “Good to hear.”
    “You remember Scott Finn, right?”
    Stone regarded the second man. “From the Caldwell case, right? Hard to forget.” Neither of them offered his hand. “I heard
     Koz was working with you now. Hard to believe. If I remember right, he had you pegged as a murderer a few years ago.”
    “I was wrong,” Kozlowski said.
    “He also had you pegged as an asshole,” Stone said.
    “So, he was partially wrong,” Finn replied.
    Stone turned back to Kozlowski. “What are you doing out here?”
    “We need to talk to Vinny Murphy,” Kozlowski replied. “I take it he’s not around?”
    “That’s an understatement.”
    Kozlowski exchanged a look with Finn. “How so?” he asked.
    “I mean he’s gone. Really gone.”
    “Arrested?” Finn asked.
    Stone shook his head. “That’d be an upgrade. He was murdered. You read the papers?”
    Finn shook his head. “I had a busy morning. I haven’t had the chance.” He looked at Kozlowski, who just shrugged. “What happened?”
     he asked Stone.
    “Pretty nasty. We’re not sure exactly yet.”
    “When?”
    “Saturday night. Maybe early Sunday morning.”
    “Any leads?” Kozlowski asked. He still sounded like a cop.
    “Not that I can talk about,” Stone said.
    “Anything you can tell us?” Finn asked.
    Stone hesitated. Kozlowski had been one of the best detectives in the department; his insight might be useful. Stone wasn’t
     going to give up any information without getting something in return, though. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here first.”
    The two men looked at each other. “We can’t,” Finn replied.
    “No?”
    Finn shook his head.
    “Well then, it looks like we’re not going to be able to help each other.”
    Finn sighed. “We’re here for a client. For information. That’s all I can say.”
    “I could ask you to come down to the station to talk,” Stone said. “This is a murder investigation.”
    “Wouldn’t do you any good,” Finn replied.
    “No, probably not. But without more, this conversation isn’t gonna go anyplace.”
    Finn put his hands in his pockets, but Kozlowski spoke up. “Devon Malley was picked up Sunday night for a robbery.” Finn’s
     head spun toward the private detective, but Kozlowski waved him off. “Rumor had it that Murphy might know something about
     the crime. We were just out looking to see what we could find out.”
    “Koz—” Finn protested, but Stone cut him off.
    “Don’t worry,” Stone said. “I know Devon. He’s got nothing to do with this.”
    “What makes you say that?” Finn asked.
    “Devon’s a thief, not a murderer. Right circumstances, he might be able to push a button on a guy—maybe even pull the trigger
     himself if he was scared enough. But that’s as far as he’d go. He wouldn’t be a part of what went down here. He’s not the
     brutal type, and this was brutal.”
    “How so?” Kozlowski asked.
    “Vinny was worked over before he was killed. Whoever did it knew what they were doing. Lots of pain, but nothing that would
     kill until the final shot. Very fucked up. They used chains, they broke bones. They did stuff to him you