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“Better believe it,” said Conklin. “Maybe you boosted some clothes and sold them. We don’t care about theft, do we, Lieutenant? We’re Homicide.”
“Maybe you should’ve asked me nice, asswipe, instead of taking me down for a bullshit ‘resisting arrest.’”
Conklin stood, telegraphing his move, and Bergin lifted his hands to fend off the blow. As Conklin smacked the back of Bergin’s head, the balled-up, bloody napkin went flying, landing softly behind his chair.
“Show some respect for your public servants,” Conklin said. “Especially when there’s a lady present.”
Conklin casually reached down, slipped the napkin into his back pocket.
“Hit me again,” Bergin said, swiveling his huge head, “and I’m going after you for police brutality. You’ve got nothing on me, so either kiss my ass and let me out of here or get me a lawyer. I’ve got nothing to say.”
My cell phone rang—it was the worst possible time. I glanced down at the caller ID.
It was Joe.
“It’s the mayor,” I said, grabbing the phone out of its holster. “I have to take this. Sorry.
“Yes, sir. We’re interrogating him now.” I turned my back on Conklin and Bergin.
My man’s voice was sweet in my ear. “I’m on a plane to Hong Kong, blondie,” he said, not missing a beat. “I’ll be heading back next weekend. I could stop over in San Francisco.”
“Yes, sir. He looks good for it,” I said.
“So you think you’ll be free?”
“Absolutely.”
“You won’t forget.”
“You’ve got my word.”
I glimpsed my face in the mirror, scowling even as a smile played at the corners of my mouth.
“I love you, Lindsay.”
“You bet, sir. I’ll keep you posted.”
I clicked off the phone, shook off the effects of that divine twenty-second interlude, and pulled myself back to the present.
“How does it feel, Louie? You’re Mayor Hefferon’s number one priority.”
“It feels great.” He grinned.
Louie was right. We had nothing on him. And once he had a lawyer, we were going to be back to chasing our tails.
There was a knuckle rap on the glass. I stepped outside into the hallway, where Jacobi was waiting for me.
“Did you hear? Bergin lawyered up.”
“He needs a lawyer. A good one,” said Jacobi. “His prints match the one behind Lauren McKenna’s knee.” Jacobi smirked. “That’ll hold him for a while.”
It was like my whole body was smiling, that’s how good I felt. I grinned at Jacobi, high-fived him, low-fived him, bumped hips, did everything but kiss him on the lips.
I opened the door, called Conklin outside the box.
“Louie’s print is a match to the one we pulled from Show Girl’s body. It’s your collar, Richie. Why don’t you do the honors?”
I was standing with Inspector Conklin when he said, “Louis Bergin, we’re dropping the resisting charge. You’re under arrest for the murder of Lauren McKenna.”
