Read Dirty Harry 09 - The Killing Connection for Free Online

from running suburban numbers to fixing high school, then college, then professional ballgames. Discovering that he was his own best enforcer, Bender, named for both his father’s and mother’s families—Brown and Bender—went to where the real money was: professional assassination.
    Tuccio, on the other hand, had lied and cheated his way to an insecure standing in the business world by combining an innate cunning with a low I.Q. While he could think of brilliantly vicious cons, he usually screwed himself during the implementation. But the one thing he was best at was putting up a slick front. The man could talk with the best of them. He could convince anyone that he was on the level, then disappear when things fell apart.
    Harry only hoped that the con wasn’t trying to kid Bender or else this time he had bitten off more than he could chew. Bender would have little trouble finding him and then emptying what little Tuccio had between his ears through his nose. But it was hardly concern for Tuccio that made Callahan hopeful. He just wanted to be there when one known criminal gave money to another. At that point, they could both be taken in and Tuccio might just be made spineless enough to try and save his hide.
    Between the rain and the time of day, the Produce Market was fairly quiet. Most of its business occurred between four and six in the morning when the restaurant representatives showed up to cart off vegetables and fruit. Any buyer who’d normally be left at this time was chased away by the inclement weather. Although the market stalls had ceilings, most of them were made of canvas and light wood, which hardly protected the client from a rainfall as heavy as this.
    About the only ones left were the sellers themselves, putting away their wares and shutting down for the day. They and at least two cautious, rain-soaked cops. They were enough, however. Even without the various buyers, the marketplace was still abuzz with activity. Between the bosses pulling down their awnings and the helpers loading the leftover produce onto trucks with handheld and crane-like baskets and hooks, there was enough colorful movement to make Fatso dizzy.
    “Geez,” he said, looking up at the drain pipe which was intermittently dousing him when the water overflowed. “Why the hell didn’t we stay in the car, Harry?”
    “Because the car is on the other side of the market,” Callahan told him, his back flat against the wall of one of the shops which was first to close up. “And that’s where Bender and Tuccio will probably be coming in. And we’d scare them off if they saw us.”
    “Wow,” Devlin breathed with feigned awe. “You think of everything, Sherlock.”
    Harry smirked, then glanced around the corner to get a good look at the parking lot. Two burly white men in three-piece suits sauntered into the marketplace. “This looks like it,” Harry warned his partner. He cocked his head in the duo’s direction. “Tuccio’s advance guard.”
    Devlin gave a low, mock groan. “Why couldn’t we have called in the cavalry on this one, Harry? Or at least some backup troops?” Callahan didn’t bother answering.
    They had had nothing in the way of leads except an illegally overheard phone call. If they had tipped their hand to anybody, questions would have been asked. As it was, they would “just happen to be at the right place at the right time thanks to their incredible shadowing techniques.”
    As the Inspector watched, the two suited men drifted down the main walkway of the market, which was littered with rejected produce. The rain had done a lot to keep the stench of rotting food from being overpowering, but it couldn’t completely wash away the smell. The duo stopped in the middle of the market and nodded back the way they had come. Appearing near the first stall was Tuccio himself, his gaunt face framed by thin, greasy grey hair sticking out of a nearly new London Fog trench-coat. In his hand, he carried a sumptuous dark