Read New Hope for the Dead for Free Online Page B

shook his head.
    “I didn’t mean to snap at you. But I had a weird experience this afternoon, and I still haven’t found a new place to live. Why do you think, Sanchez, that Hickey would carry a picture of a mongrel dog in his wallet?”
    Ellita stood up, leaned over the desk, and frowned at the items on the desk. “Everything else is expired, so I’d say the dog is probably dead, too. Maybe it was once his dog, and it died, so he wanted to keep the picture as a
memento mori
.”
    “A
memento mori
is a human skull, not a picture of a dog. But you may be right. There was no indication of a dog living at the Hickey house. Pass me the phone.”
    Hoke dialed the number on the slip of paper.
    “Hello.”
    “I’d like to speak to Jerry Hickey,” Hoke said.
    “Who?”
    “Jerry Hickey.”
    “He don’t live here no mo’.” It was a black woman’s voice.
    “Who is this, please?”
    “Who is you?”
    “I want to buy Jerry’s dog. When he left, did he leave his dog with you?”
    “He didn’t have no dog. I don’t ’low no dogs here. Who is this?”
    “When did Jerry move?”
    The woman hung up the phone.
    “You’re probably right about the dog, Sanchez.” Hoke handed her the slip of paper. “Get the address of this number from the phone company. It doesn’t mean anything to us, but I can pass it on to Narcotics. It might be a lead for them. Jerry had to get the heroin somewhere. He hadn’t been living at home long. I’ll find out how long this evening when I talk to his mother.”
    Ellita nodded. “You want some coffee, Sergeant?”
    “Do you?”
    “We’ve got a half hour before we meet with Major Brownley.”
    “I know that. I asked if you wanted some coffee.”
    Ellita nodded.
    “In that case,” Hoke said, “I’ll go. You’ve gone the last three times, and it isn’t supposed to work that way. Bill and I always took turns. I’ve been taking advantage of you. How many sugars?” Hoke got to his feet.
    “None. I keep Sweet ‘n’ Low here in my desk.”
    Hoke took the elevator downstairs to the basement cafeteria. For some reason, he thought, Ellita seemed to be afraid of him. Several times lately he had noticed her staring at him, and she looked frightened. He couldn’t understand it, because he had been leaning over backward to be friendly with her. Maybe it was the meeting coming up with Major Brownley. Most of the detectives in the divisionwere afraid of the major. As a rule, Brownley kept his distance, either by communicating with his detectives through Lieutenant Slater or by sending out memos. It was unusual for Brownley to call a special meeting this way. As he filled two Styrofoam cups with coffee, Hoke wondered vaguely what the old fart wanted.

4

    Major Willie Brownley, the first black ever to be appointed to that rank in the department, leaned back in his padded leather chair and got his cigar drawing well before he said anything. His face, the color of an eggplant, but not as shiny, was lined with tiny wrinkles. His cropped hair was gray at the temples, but his well-trimmed mustache was still black. The whites of his eyes were the color of a legal pad. He looked of indeterminate age, but Hoke knew that Willie Brownley was fifty-five, because Hoke had worked for the major when he had been a captain in charge of Traffic. The major wore his navy-blue gabardine uniform even on the hottest days, with the jacket always buttoned, and his trim military appearance made him look younger than his age.
    The three detectives sat facing Brownley’s desk, with Henderson on the right. Henderson was a large, paunchy man who almost always wore a striped seersucker jacket with poplin wash pants. Although he was officially six feet, two inches tall, he appeared six-four because he wore Adler’s elevator shoes. Henderson thought the extra twoinches made him look slimmer. They didn’t, really, but the extra height did make him look more formidable. Henderson was an affable man, but his front