Free Forty Thieves by Thomas Perry Page A

cups and went away. “I brought you cream and sugar.” He reached into his coat pocket and then placed some thimble-sized creamers and small envelopes in front of them on the table.
    “Thank you,” said Ronnie.
    Hebert hesitated for a few seconds, then sat down in the only empty chair and pulled it closer to the table. “Well, let’s talk about this shooting incident last night,” he said. “I’d like to go over some of the impressions I got last night, to be sure we’ve got all the information we need. What were you doing up there on Clovermeadow Lane last night after nightfall?”
    Sid said, “The reason we were up there was that we had visited the Department of Public Works office, where we got a list of the construction sites where there might have been an open storm drain on March fifth of last year. That site was number three, the last one of the day.”
    “And that was part of the investigation you’re on?”
    “Right,” said Ronnie. “The body of a man named James Ballantine was found stuck in a storm sewer under a street in North Hollywood around then. There was no easy way for him to have gotten there, because the drains along the streets are designed not to let anything big, like a body, get into the system. So it had to be an open drain somewhere upstream.”
    “And of course, you’re both former LAPD officers.” He paused. “I assume you both left the department without any issues?”
    “You didn’t check?” said Sid.
    Ronnie said, “No issues. I left after ten years and Sid left after twelve because we wanted to work together on our own.”
    “Is that working out pretty well?” asked Hebert. “I think I’ve heard your names a few times.”
    “It’s okay,” said Sid.
    “Good, good,” said Hebert. “And you just said you were looking into the death of James Ballantine last March.”
    “Yes,” said Ronnie. “We did.”
    “A homicide. Who hired you to do that?”
    “Mr. Ballantine’s employer, Intercelleron Corporation. The contact person is named David Hemphill.”
    “Hemphill,” said Hebert, and wrote the name on his note pad. “And what does Mr. Hemphill say his company wants?”
    “Two new pairs of eyes looking at the case. He says the directors of the company are concerned because one of their employees was murdered, and they’re willing to pay to keep someone working actively on the case. It seemed to us that reaching the anniversary of the crime was the trigger.”
    “I’ve seen that before,” said Hebert.
    “We see it often,” Ronnie said. “The survivors get a lot of information at first, but then the flow slows down and they tell themselves they’ll give the police until some particular time. If the case isn’t solved when that time comes, they’ll hire their own investigators.”
    “You ever get any results on that kind of case?”
    “Sometimes,” said Sid.
    “Really? Ever apprehend any perpetrators and get them convicted in a court?”
    “Some,” Sid said.
    “How many?” Hebert said. “One?”
    “Sid doesn’t like to keep score,” Ronnie said.
    Hebert leaned back in his chair and his lips began to curl upward into a smile.
    But Ronnie wasn’t finished. “But I do. Since we left the LAPD we’ve had twenty-one homicide convictions, about half of them murder one and the others bargained down to second degree or voluntary manslaughter. There were also four who were guilty but got themselves killed whileofficers were trying to make the arrests. I think a couple of those were suicide by cop.” She paused. “Of course, we don’t usually take on murder cases. When we do, we usually work for defense attorneys.”
    Hebert was silent for several seconds. “Ever think of coming back to work?”
    “No,” said Ronnie. “Not once.”
    “Why not?”
    “We still have a lot of friends on the force, but—”
    “I’ll bet you do, with all those convictions.”
    Ronnie ignored the interruption. “We like to work together. No department in the