Free Yesterday's News by Jeremiah Healy Page A

accurate.”
    â€œIs there any special reason I should stay away from these two places?”
    â€œOh yes. The unfortunate Mr. Coyne was employed at the Strand, and he died behind Bun’s after drinking heavily there.”
    â€œCaptain, if Coyne had lived, would the DA have sought an indictment against whoever on the force was allegedly involved in the porno business?”
    â€œYou ask a question that a man in my delicate position should not answer. I believe, however, that without Mr. Coyne, no district attorney could possibly present a successful case. The state police investigator in that office, a Trooper Cardwell, might offer the same opinion, if you were to ask him.”
    â€œHagan said that a bum in the alley saw Coyne’s killer and that Coyne was living with a woman somewhere around here. Can you help me out with their names?”
    â€œMr. Cuddy, you should have learned by now that one captain cannot discuss a case assigned to another captain. I trust that you will take my good advice.” He glanced over my shoulder. “Officer Manos will be pleased to escort you from the building now.”

Eight
    I DROVE UP the road fifteen miles or so to the district attorney’s office. I was lucky: a secretary covering the front desk said Trooper Cardwell was in.
    She pointed to his office, a slope-sided garret with another desk in it and the headroom of an attic crawl space. Seated in a low-back, wheeled chair, Cardwell was black and under thirty. He wore a military haircut and bearing, over a short-sleeved dress shirt and yellow tie. After we introduced ourselves, I closed the door behind me.
    Cardwell said, “What’s on your mind?”
    I sat across from him and said, “Charlie Coyne and Jane Rust.”
    With a toe, he propelled himself around to use the telephone. “References?”
    â€œOn me?”
    â€œThat’s who I’m talking to, isn’t it?”
    â€œTry Lieutenant Murphy, Boston Homicide.”
    Cardwell’s eyebrows perked up an inch. “Robert Murphy?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œYou give me his name because he knows you well or because he’s black?”
    â€œBoth.”
    Cardwell stifled something, but whether a laugh or a curse, I’m not sure. He’d acquired the knack of stifling.
    After dialing and routing through some transfers, he said, “Lieutenant Murphy? Sir, this is Trooper Oliver Cardwell. I’m attached to … thank you, sir, I remember that, too. … Lieutenant, I’ve got a private investigator sitting in front of me named Cuddy, first name John, says he …” Cardwell grinned. “Nossir, I haven’t been vaccinated recently … yessir, he looks that way to me, too. … You say so, that’s good enough for me. … Right, right, look forward to it, Lieutenant.”
    Cardwell replaced the receiver. “Murphy says you’re an asshole.”
    â€œSee?”
    â€œSays I’d be better off throwing you out the window than down the stairs on account of you might hurt the stairs.”
    â€œGood old—”
    â€œSays you fuck me up down here, he’ll take more than your weapon by the time you check your next mail delivery.”
    â€œSo he said you could trust me. Can I get on with this?”
    Cardwell eased back. “You can get started, anyway.”
    â€œI already did. Charlie Coyne and Jane Rust.”
    â€œWay you say that, you think they’re connected. Doesn’t look that way to me.”
    I’d like to hear it.”
    â€œYou talked with Hagan down to Nasharbor yet?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œAnd he didn’t tell you much or show you much, so you came up to me.”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œYou know anything about my position here?”
    â€œI know the state police supplies investigators to the DA’s. I know you guys are supposed to run the major crime stuff for the local cops in the