Free Goodbye Sister Disco by James Patrick Hunt

to. But it’s already happened and we can’t change it.”
    â€œAll right, Lieutenant,” Shellow said. “Thank you for your recommendation. We’ll take it from here.”
    Hastings said, “Where are you going?”
    Agent Kubiak said, “Well, first we’re going to interview the reporter. We’ll keep you posted.”
    Hastings said, “I’m going with you.”
    Agent Kubiak smiled and shook his head. He looked over to Shellow as if to say, I told you. I told you he was going to be this way.
    Agent Shellow said, “It’s FBI’s case now, Lieutenant. You can observe, and we’ll call you if we need you. But it’s a kidnapping and that makes it our ball game. You know how it works.”
    â€œYes, sir, I do. But there’s a homicide too. We can safely presume that the kidnappers killed Tom Myers. And that’s my case.”
    There was another silence and exchange of glances around the table. Hastings kept a patient expression, resting a casual eye on Shellow. He’d decided that Kubiak wasn’t worth eyeballing.
    ASAC Jim Shellow turned to Fenton Murray.
    Murray raised a hand, like there was nothing he could do about it. He said, “The lieutenant’s right. It’s our murder case. I’ve already discussed this with Chief Grassino. We all want the same thing here, really. We can joint-task it. And there’s no point in the police and your boys interviewing the same witnesses separately. We can agree, can we not, that it’s a waste of manpower. But the danger is that it gives the witness an opportunity to change his story on the second round. Best to do it all at once, don’t you think, Jim?”
    *   *   *
    The meeting wrapped up shortly after that. Hastings got Fenton Murray alone and said, “Did the chief really say that?”
    Fenton Murray said, “Don’t talk to me.” And then walked away. He was in a foul mood, obviously, and Hastings was wise enough to let him be.

THIRTEEN
    Hastings remembered one time a copy of St. Louis Magazine being passed around the Department because it had an article titled “Single in the City” in it and there was a thirty-year-old patrolman who had been dumb enough to let himself be featured as one of the city’s prime catches. The article said something like, “Get to know some of the metro area’s most successful singles and find out what makes them tick, what they like to do when they’re not hard at work.”
    The patrolman’s name was Nick Pesavento, and he must have been something of a masochist because alongside a photo of him leaning up against a brick wall with his arms folded and wearing a ridiculous, self-satisfied smile with his tight black T-shirt, there was a profile of his “personal” details. Such as: Ideal first date : A long conversation over coffee; First thing I notice about someone I’m attracted to : Smile; My secret talent/skill : I’m good with people. Celebrity dream date : Cameron Diaz. And perhaps one of the best, The celebrity who would play me in a movie : George Clooney.
    It was too much to resist. George Clooney? Long conversations over coffee? The guy was fucking asking for it. And homophobic comedy long being a staple of the law enforcement community, it was just a matter of time before a couple of cops with a computer put together a flyer and hung it on Department walls and cafeterias and locker space. The flyer had the same photo of Nick as the one in the magazine and the personal details included but were not limited to:
    Ideal first date : Shopping for new boots at the Galleria.
    Celebrity dream date : Nicholas Cage.
    First thing I notice about someone I’m attracted to : His package.
    The celebrity who would play me in a movie : Ricky Martin.
    And so forth.
    Joe Klosterman, who was known for instigating these sorts of things, swore he had nothing to do with it. But he