Free Money Men by Gerald Petievich

appeal or something. Can you imagine that? Six months ... I'd like to kill my next-door neighbor's kid. His motorcycle is too loud. Six months couldn't be all that bad." He rammed the last of the doughnut into his mouth and chewed. "I'm going down to the grand-jury room. Pick me up there when you're ready to go."
    Carr walked down the hall into the tech shop and switched off the tape recorder labeled "Interview Room #1." He removed the cassette tape, wrote "Arrest interview. Defendant Virgil Leach" on its label, and placed it in his shirt pocket. He looked at his watch. It was 8:00 A.M.
    ****
    NINE
    It was 9:30 A.M. by the time Carr had finished briefing Delgado and making phone calls to the coroner's office. He left the field office and took the elevator to the ground floor.
    When the elevator door opened, he walked down the marbled hallway toward a large set of wooden doors with gold lettering that read FEDERAL GRAND JURY. A small cardboard sign hung on a door handle. DO NOT ENTER. GRAND JURY IN SESSION . On one side of the doorway stood four long-haired men, whispering to one another. They wore open-collared shirts, tight pants, gold necklaces and rings. They looked at him as if a badge was pinned to his coat.
    Farther down the hallway Kelly leaned against the marbled wall.
    "What's it look like?" Carr said.
    "That paper-pushing sumbitch Tommy the Hat has been on the witness stand for the past hour and a half," he whispered. "He won't even give so much as his home address. The court stenographer walked out a couple of minutes ago and told me. His asshole friends are standing over there with ants in their pants waiting to see if he is going to give up on them as being the ones who passed the fifties." Kelly spoke in a defeated tone. "But Tommy's being a real stand-up guy...That's because he knows we don't have a good case on him."
    "Why not?" Carr said.
    "A bad search warrant."
    "Dry hole?"
    "No. We found thirty-five grand in fifties under his bed. Problem is the typist made a mistake and typed in the wrong date on the search warrant."
    Carr shook his head.
    The grand-jury doors opened. Curly-haired and freckled, Tommy the Hat, in a French-cut white suit, was the first one out. He tapped a matching Stetson with a silver band onto his friz.
    Carr walked directly up to him and grabbed his hand before he reached his friends. Tommy looked surprised.
    "Tommy," Carr said, cranking the young man's hand in wedding-reception style. "The truth never hurt anybody. You've kept your part of the bargain, and Uncle Sam will keep his. Thanks again, buddy."
    Tommy the Hat pulled his hand away from Carr as if it were a handcuff. The young hoods glanced at one another and turned their backs. They swaggered down the hallway without looking back. "I ain't no fucking stool pigeon!" screamed Tommy. "I didn't say a word in there." He pointed at Carr. "You...you...mother fucker!"
    Carr winked at the now red-faced man and headed down the hallway toward the exit. Walking next to him, Kelly made guttural sounds to try to keep from laughing. They passed through the revolving doors into the parking lot, and Kelly burst into hysterical, booming laughter. "How do you ever think of that shit?"
    Kelly parked in front of the stucco apartment house next door to Leach's place.
    Carr picked up the microphone from the glove compartment and gave the location. He replaced the microphone and shut the compartment.
    "Why don't you take the rear," he said. He opened the door and got out. Kelly drove around the corner.
    Carr waited for Kelly to get into position. He heard a loud whisper coming from a ground-floor window of the apartment house. "Are you a policeman? I saw you talk on the car radio." The voice was old.
    Carr stopped. "Who wants to know?"
    "The people in that house are up to no good," said the woman. "The girl is a doper. She passed out on the front lawn once. She lives with a guy who beats her like a dog. People go and come at all hours. I hope you arrest