Free Our Honored Dead (Stephanie Chalice Thrillers Book 4) by Lawrence Kelter Page B

certainly wasn’t something that belonged on the floor of a pumping station. I had crushed a small hypodermic syringe with my heel. It was on the ground near one of the mammoth water-delivery pipes. Gus was already up on his feet, so I knelt down to examine the syringe. As I did, something else caught my eye. A tuft of hair and a small section of skin were frozen to the huge, iron water pipe.

Chapter Eighteen
     
    “You poor thing, you fell down and broke your butt.”
    Gus bravely tried to smile through the pain, but I could see that he was really hurting as we walked back to our car. We left Charles at the pumping station, where he awaited the arrival of the crime scene investigators. “It’s embarrassing,” he said.
    “What’s there to be embarrassed about? Do you really think that you’re first cop to fall on his keister in the line of duty? Just think about all of the sympathy sex I’m going to give you.” I became concerned when Gus didn’t reply to my comment. “I said sympathy sex—did you hear me?” Gus took a step and winced. “Do you want to see a doctor?”
    “I’ll be all right. I just need a hot bath and a bottle of scotch.”
    “How about a deep-tissue massage performed by yours truly?”
    “It all sounds good. I just need to lie down for a while.”
    I helped Gus into the car. I got into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “I’ll have you home in a jiffy. I’ll draw you a bath and get you doped up on Vicodin and whiskey. How’s that sound?”
    “It sounds like a dream.” I watched as Gus squirmed in his seat and tried to get comfortable.
    “Want me to whip out my boobs or something?”
    “Now?”
    “You look like you could use a distraction.”
    Gus closed his eyes and put his head back against the headrest. “Not that I don’t appreciate a good striptease every now and again, but how about you just drug me and put me to bed.”
    “Sure, no problem . . . Ingrate,” I said, teasing him. “You know there are lots of guys that would get pretty excited over an offer like that.”
    “Baby, I’m dying here.”
    He wasn’t responding to my charm, which meant that he was really in pain. I pressed the gas pedal and raced uptown. We were crossing 23rd Street when my cell phone rang. The caller ID read: Sonellio.
    “Boss, is that you?”
    Gus heard the excitement in my voice. It brought him around faster than a jolting whiff of smelling salts. “Nick’s on the phone? Really? How is he?”
    “Yes, yes, Stephanie, it’s the old man. How are you?” Sonellio said.
    “Happy, I’m so happy to hear your voice. Are you still up in Maine?”
    “I’m home, Stephanie. I’m back in Staten Island.”
    “Really?” I didn’t know whether his reply meant something good or bad. I’d been worried about his health for a long time now, and it overshadowed my exuberance. “Oh my God, we miss you so much. I’m here with Gus.”
    “Hi, boss,” Gus shouted. He had so much adrenaline pumping through his veins that he had momentarily forgotten about his bruised butt. “We miss you, boss.”
    “I’m not the boss anymore,” Sonellio said. “I’m just an old friend.”
    “You’ll always be The Boss,” Gus said aloud.
    I smiled at Gus. Our feelings for Sonellio were so strong. Everything else felt unimportant in comparison. “So when are we going to see you?”
    “Right away, if you can swing it. Any chance I can bribe the two of you into coming out for breakfast tomorrow?”
    I whispered to Gus, “We don’t have to be at the medical examiner’s office until noon. We can run out to see him early in the morning. Okay?” Gus nodded happily. “Your place, boss?”
    “Yeah. That okay?”
    “I’d hijack the space shuttle if that’s what it took.” Sonellio laughed. It made me feel good to hear him chuckle, but then he coughed and a wave of melancholy washed over me. It was the same sickly cough I had heard from him increasingly just before he retired. “Eight o’clock