Free Deadfall by Patricia H. Rushford Page B

several feet back. “Sarge knows he works with a bunch of detectives. If he didn’t want us reading his paperwork, he should lock it up in his desk.”
    â€œWould that keep you out?” Mac asked.
    â€œProbably not. I have a key to his desk too.” Philly went back to reading. “Where’s Grandpa—getting his dress blues altered for his retirement gala?”
    â€œKevin? I don’t know.” Mac didn’t think it appropriate to discuss his partner’s business, whatever it might be. He sat on the edge of the desk and folded his arms. “I think I’ll page Sergeant Evans and bring him up to speed on our case. You want to talk to him when he calls in, Phil?”
    â€œYou tell him I’m in here, Junior, and I’ll string you up.” Philly suppressed a grin as he stood up and poked Mac in the chest with his thick index finger. “I’d like to get out of here on time today without Frank loading up a bunch of admin junk on me.”
    Mac grabbed Philly’s fingers and, with a half-hearted attempt, tried to twist him into an arm bar. He underestimated the strength in Philly’s forearms and found himself in a choke hold instead.
    â€œDon’t try that ninja stuff on me, kid.” Philly licked his finger and stuck it in Mac’s ear before letting him go. “I’ll let you off with a wet willy this time; next time I go for the wedgie.”
    â€œI give, I give.” Mac raised his hands in surrender, mainly because the exertion had left Philly red-faced and panting. “Now go sit down before you pass out on me. I’m calling Sarge, but I won’t mention that you were in here.”
    â€œGood. I owe you one.” Philly slapped Mac on the back as he walked to his own office.
    Mac went out to his cubicle, closing the door behind him.
    Wonder what all that was about? And that remark about Kevin retiring—was that just Philly’s attempt at humor, or did he know something Mac didn’t? Mac had said he wouldn’t tell Frank about Philly’s snooping, but he hadn’t said he wouldn’t tell Kevin—or Eric, for that matter. For a detective, Mac sure was having a hard time figuring out his coworkers.
    PETE CALLED AT TWO-FIFTEEN. “Good news and bad news, Mac. I lifted latent prints from the duct tape, but AFIS didn’t come back with a match for them. The prints came back on our victim, though. The guy is an escaped con from the Nevada State Pen. Name’s Gerald Norton. He’s got a rap sheet a mile long.”
    Pete promised to fax over the information. In the meantime, Mac got on the phone with the Nevada State Department of Corrections and got a lot more information than he’d expected.
    After hanging up, Mac retrieved the fax and scanned the report as he made his way back to his desk. He literally bumped into Kevin when he rounded the last corner.
    â€œHey, partner. I’m glad you’re back.” Mac waved the paper at him. “Got the results from Pete and have been on the horn to our buddies in Nevada.”
    â€œGood timing.” Kevin motioned him toward his office. “Have you been in touch with Sarge?”
    â€œTried to a while ago, but he wasn’t in his office.”
    â€œOkay, give me the info and we’ll let Frank know what we have.”
    â€œWe were right about the tattoos. The victim’s name is Gerald Norton, an escaped con from the Nevada State Pen.”
    Kevin sat in his swivel chair and leaned back, placing his feet on the desk and crossing his legs at the ankle. “What was he in for?”
    Mac lowered himself into the straight-backed chair across from Kevin. “According to the report, Norton has a lengthy Computerized Criminal History for drugs, guns, and person crimes. He’s the real deal, Kev. Looks like a pretty violent dude. The feds tagged him as an armed career criminal back in 1996 after a number of robberies and assaults,