Read Copp On Ice, A Joe Copp Thriller (Joe Copp Private Eye Series) for Free Online

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    Detective Turner sat in a booth along the back wall with a man of about fifty. Solid looking guy, casually dressed but very neat. They were sipping coffees and the conversation was very sober. I grabbed a chair and placed it at the end of their table, sat down with a smile, said, "Got here as fast as I could."
           I could read nothing in Turner's face—not surprise, not joy, not sorrow, not anything. She was a total blank. The guy looked from her to me, put a spoon in his coffee and stirred it as he asked, "Who the hell are you?"
           "Here, I'm nobody," I replied, still smiling. "Two blocks west I'm the chief of police."
           He spilled it in two soft words, delivered without feeling: "Joe Copp."
           "That's the one. Which one are you?"
           He was a blank too. "I'm Tim Murray."
           "Ex-chief of police," I acknowledged quietly, hoping my surprise wasn't showing.
           He replied, "That's the one."
           I looked at Turner. "That was a quick run from Craggy Lane."
           I got a flare there. A nostril quivered as she replied, "What were you doing on Craggy Lane, Chief?"
           "Keeping an eye on you," I told her soberly.
           Another flare. "You were behind me?"
           "All the way up, all the way down—yeah. Who fired those shots?"
           "I did."
           "Why?"
           "Self-defense. I warned them, tie the dog or he's a dead dog."
           "You were there in an official capacity?"
           Thoughtful pause, then: "No."
           "Want to tell me about it?"
           "No."
           I looked at Murray. "Do you know what we're talking about?"
           He replied, "Craggy Lane, I'd say Harold Schwartz- man's place." He smiled faintly at Turner. "You shot one of his Dobermans?"
           She shrugged.
           I asked Murray, "Who is Schwartzman?"
           "Very rich man. Owns maybe half of Helltown. Owns this place. Owns me too, now, I guess. I run this place for him."
           "Why?"
           "Man has to eat, pay his bills. I didn't even get severance, not anything. Looks like I'll have some legal expenses coming up somewhere down the line. Couple of councilmen want blood from me."
           "How much blood?"
           "Enough that I'll need a damned good lawyer. Know one?"
           "Don't you?"
           He smiled, shook his head. "City Attorney always advised me."
           "I hear he resigned. Over this?"
           The ex-chief nodded. "A certain member of the council demanded that he bring criminal charges. City Attorney knew it was nothing but a vendetta. But the pressure was on, and he refused to go along with it."
           "Why the vendetta?"
           "Couple of my officers busted this councilman's spoiled brat last year. Kid was dealing crack and dust in the high school. Father appealed to me, wanted us to look the other way. Couldn't do that. Got 'im off anyway. Bought himself a judge, I suspect."
           "Which councilman is this?"
           Murray sighed, played with his coffee, replied, "Look it up. You'll hear other things too. Don't believe it all. How long d'you think you'll last at that desk?"
           "No longer than Monday," I admitted.
           "Uh huh. So why'd you come?"
           "I was asked to come."
           "I'm asked to do lots of things. Doesn't mean I have to do them. Why'd you come?"
           I showed him a faint smile. "Maybe I'm old-fashioned."
           "That's what I figured. I've heard about you, Joe. Maybe too much. And maybe it's not all true. If I was you, I wouldn't wait 'til Monday."
           "If I was you," I countered, "I wouldn't be running a dive in Helltown."
           "Well... wait and see where you land, then make those decisions. I have kids in college. I have a mortgage, too damned many credit cards, and I have a