Free Out of the Blues by Trudy Nan Boyce Page B

kinda like, uh, Wonder Woman, that’s it. Fightin’ the bad guys all by herself. She shot and killed one last year, didn’t you, Salt? And you just made detective, right?” He play-punched her on her bicep.
    â€œThat’s why I’m here, Reverend. I’ve been assigned a case you may be able to shed some light on.”
    â€œYou couldn’t call and make an appointment?” said Prince.
    â€œYeah, Salt,” said Madison. “You should come to me first with anything related to Reverend Prince and law enforcement.”
    â€œYou’re right, Madison, but I was out anyway and just stopped by, hoping I could get a few minutes with Reverend Prince. You know how it is.” She turned to the preacher. “Mike Anderson’s parents said you were very busy and hard to get an appointment with, but like I said, I took a chance and now here I am and here you are.”
    â€œâ€˜Mike Anderson,’” repeated Prince.
    â€œMike Anderson. I loved his music when I was a kid,” said the young man from behind the preacher and previously excluded from the conversation.
    â€œYou can be excused,” Prince said over his shoulder. With a pout, the young man turned toward the exit.
    â€œYeah, but Salt, Reverend Prince is a busy—”
    â€œWhy would anybody be interested in Mike Anderson after all these years?” Prince cut Madison off and stepped toward Salt. “He killed himself on drugs.”
    â€œWe’ve gotten new information.”
    â€œâ€˜New information.’ What kind of new information?”
    As Prince came closer, Salt realized that he was her same height and remembered that she’d always thought he wore lifts in his shoes or stacked heels. “A witness,” she said.
    Prince made a dismissive, flapping noise with his lips. “What kind of witness?”
    â€œWe’re trying to corroborate, or disprove, his allegations, Reverend. I’d like to ask you about your interventions with Mike before he died.”
    Prince shook back his coat cuff and looked down at the large-faced watch on his wrist. “I have an appointment I need to get to.”
    Prince was already striding up the center aisle as Madison took a business card from the leg pocket of his fatigue pants and held it out to Salt. It had a camouflage background with black lightning lettering for his name and phone numbers. “I’ll walk you out. What door did you come in? I need to check the schedule. Somebody musta screwed up, leaving a door unlocked. I give these guys these cushy extra jobs, and then they do me like this.”
    â€œGood EJ?” Salt asked, referring to the off-duty job. Most cops worked some kind of extra job in order to supplement their pay. Their law enforcement and jurisdictional powers were active no matter if they were on or off duty.
    â€œIt’s real cushy, Salt. Want me to get you on?” He put his arm over her shoulder as they walked toward the door. “Directing traffic on Sunday is the most work we do. Otherwise it’s just hangin’ around, doing whatever the Rev needs doin’.”
    â€œâ€™Fraid I can’t. I have all I can do to keep up with the new assignment and my home life.” She slipped from under his arm. “Thanks, though.”
    â€œYeah, I know what you mean, pardner.” He slapped his leg with a flat palm.
    â€œWhat other things do you do for him?” she asked.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou said you do whatever the preacher needs. Like what?”
    He stood in the doorway with his arms stretched up to the top of the sill, as if in preparation for a pull-up. He squinted at her for a second. “Now you sound like Internal Affairs. I thought you were assigned to Homicide.”
    â€œJust askin’. Just askin’.” Salt turned and walked out to her unmarked car parked in the vast lot. When she looked back, Madison was still hanging in the doorway.

BLUE