Read And Leave Her Lay Dying for Free Online Page A

proof of the theory of evolution,” Ollie Schantz once observed over an after­hours beer. “Trouble is, he’s evolving the wrong way. First he was a whistle, then he was a badge. Now he’s a suit that’s turning into a jock-strap.”
    Sitting across from Kavander in the captain’s office, McGuire remembered Ollie’s joke and smiled.
    â€œYou think this is funny, McGuire?” Kavander growled.
    â€œNot a bit, Jack.”
    â€œDamn right it isn’t. Look, I don’t care if Rosen says you sleep with diseased camels, you don’t lose your cool in court and try to pop a defence lawyer in the mouth.” He pulled a toothpick from the box in his desk and began chewing on it, the residual habit of a reformed two-pack-a-day smoker. “What if this bag of shit, this Wilmer kid, what if he walks?”
    â€œHe can’t walk,” McGuire protested.
    â€œHiggins thinks he will.”
    â€œHiggins can’t let him. He knows the kid is as guilty as Judas.”
    â€œRosen’s going after bail until the trial is rescheduled.” Kavander examined the end of his toothpick. “He’ll probably get it too. Won’t be the first time.”
    â€œIt’s a wonderful world,” McGuire muttered.
    The telephone on Kavander’s desk rang. He picked it up, snarled his name, and grunted single-syllable words into the receiver before crashing it down again.
    â€œThe kid walks,” he said, staring out the window to Berkeley Street. “Judge Scaife declared a mistrial. Higgins is pissed. We’re months from a new trial date, and the commissioner wants to see me in an hour.” He swung his head to face McGuire. “What the hell am I going to do with you, Joe?”
    â€œI could always resign.”
    â€œThe very idea is giving me a hard-on.”
    â€œWant to call your wife, give her the good news?”
    â€œYou used to be funny, McGuire. Keep it up, you could be the funniest unemployed cop in town.”
    â€œThen you’ll have to push me, Jack. Because I’m not jumping.”
    â€œThe commissioner will want your ass.”
    McGuire felt the colour rise in his face. “Tell him to come and get it,” he spat at Kavander. “Tell him by the time he arrives I’ll let every paper in the state know this is the same commissioner who awarded me three commendations in the last five years—”
    â€œYou and Ollie,” Kavander growled.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œHe gave them to you and Ollie together. And frankly, McGuire, since Ollie retired you haven’t been worth a hell of a lot to me.”
    McGuire lowered his voice, trying to keep his emotions under control. “We had the best conviction record in the state—”
    â€œAnd the more I think about it,” Kavander exploded, “the more I’m convinced there was only one brain between the two of you and it’s lying in bed over in Revere Beach!”
    McGuire stood up, his hands in his pockets. “Jack, I’m as good a cop as you’ve got here.”
    â€œThen prove it to me, McGuire.” Kavander’s voice softened. “Find a way of proving it to me and keeping your nose clean until we put Wilmer some place where he can spend the rest of his life being gang-banged on a fixed schedule.”
    â€œYou got any ideas?”
    Kavander leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, I got some ideas. Sit down and I’ll tell them to you.”
    â€œGrey files? He’s got you doing grey files?” Bernie Lipson poked at the slice of lemon in his soda water, not believing what he heard.
    McGuire nodded and sipped his Kronenbourg, savouring the slightly sweet French beer.
    â€œThat’s only until the new trial, right?” Ralph Innes surveyed the interior of Hutch’s, the dark Stuart Street clam bar favoured by headquarters cops. “They get that snot-nosed Wilmer back in court, you testify again, and