Free Rejection: Publishing Murder Mystery (Lou Drake Mysteries) by Thomas K. Matthews Page B

keyboard.
    Drake showed him the cover. “Andrew McAllister. True crime.”
    “I know McAllister. Did you read NIGHT ANIMAL?”
    “I did. It was good, but I liked BRUTAL FORCE better. It’s about dirty cops.”
    “Sounds good. Maybe I’ll look for it.”
    Smythe handed the book back through the opening in the cage enclosure. He gave Drake a thoughtful look. “You’re close to retirement, aren’t you?”
    “Yes sir, in a few months.”
    “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
    “Sir?”
    “I’ve talked to a lot of retiring cops and it seems about half of them can’t wait. The other half are scared to death. They have no idea what they’ll do with themselves in the civilian world.”
    “Bit of both, I think. I’ll miss some things, not others.”
    Smythe seemed to consider him for a moment, and then looked at Drake’s colleagues.
    “Can you ladies give us a minute?”
    This caused some raised eyebrows, but Serena said, “Of course.”
    The women stepped into the adjoining office and closed the door. Drake felt like he was unable to draw a full breath as he waited to hear what the Chief had to say.
    “I remember you and the Hennings case,” Smythe said once they were alone, “and these latest murders in your neighborhood got me thinking about it again.”
    Drake tried to keep his tension from showing in his face.
    “Yes, that was an unfortunate situation.”
    “May I ask you a question? And I mean no disrespect.”
    The last thing Drake wanted to do was answer to questions from the Chief of Detectives, but he knew he had no choice.
    “Sure.”
    “I guess I’m interested in your point of view. I mean, how could a case as airtight as that go south? I remember we all had you pegged as a good Detective, and that doesn’t seem to square up with the kinds of mistakes mentioned in the official reports.”
    Drake’s heart was beating so hard he feared it would rattle the windows. Sweat dampened his shirt and his tongue went dry. Why the hell was the Chief of Detectives yanking his chain right out of the blue like this?
    “Well,” Drake said. “I paid for those mistakes.”
    “I can see that,” Smythe said softly.
    Drake felt as violated as when Collins pushed him in the men’s room. Could this day get any worse?
    “Look sir, that all happened years ago. I’m not sure what I could say that hasn’t already been said a hundred times.”
    Andrade gave him a perfunctory nod, as if that put an end to that topic. “I knew your father. He was a good cop.”
    “Hello Chief,” Andrade’s voice boomed from the hallway. “You’re early.”
    The Chief turned to face the newcomer, and Drake felt like he was being released from the principal’s office.
    “Yes,” Smythe said, “but your fine officer kept me entertained while I waited.” He looked back at Drake. “We’ll talk some more another time.”
    Andrade and the Chief started down the hallway, but Smythe paused and then walked back to Drake. Drake’s adrenaline spiked again. What now?
    “By the way,” the Chief said, “how’s Officer Dodd?”
    “I heard he’s doing okay. He’s out of the hospital and on the mend.”
    “Been down to see him?”
    “No, but I’ve been meaning to.”
    “I suggest you do that.”
    Smythe rejoined the Captain and the two disappeared down the hallway.
    When Drake looked down, a business card bearing the seal of the City of New York was sitting on the counter where Smythe’s hand had just been. Drake stared at it for a second, then quickly snatched it up and put it in his pocket. He didn’t know what this meant, but it felt like something serious had just happened.
    He walked to the adjoining office and opened the door.
    “All clear,” he said to the ladies.
    Serena gave him a raised eyebrow as she joined him in the cage. “You in trouble?”
    Drake slumped down in his chair and blew out a tired breath. He felt like a heap of limp noodles.
    “I have no idea.”
    * * *
    The killer closed his laptop and