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Payne chuckled.
Byrth grinned as he put the papers back on Harris’s desk.
“-but he wouldn’t admit it. He said he had something really interesting”-he nodded at the papers-“and said to drop by for coffee and he’d show it to me.”
Harris reached for the heavy china mug on his desk that had a representation of the Philadelphia Police Department logotype and gold lettering that read: DETECTIVE ANTHONY HARRIS-HOMICIDE DIVISION. He took a sip of his coffee.
“I really need to quit. I’ve been sucking this stuff down since five-thirty. Anyway, I swung by the store and grabbed a couple boxes of doughnuts and assorted muffins. Stanley’s in really bad health-on oxygen, thanks to a life of chain-smoking cigarettes-and doesn’t get out. So I figured he could use something fresh from the store.”
Payne gestured toward the commissary. “There’re some-”
“Yeah, that’s some of them. Stanley refused to keep all I brought to him. Said that the guys at the Roundhouse deserved them more.”
“So what did he show you?” Byrth said.
“It’s curious,” Harris said. “It may not mean anything. But-”
“ ‘Turn over the stone under the stone’ sayeth the Great Black Buddha,” Payne said, almost perfectly mimicking Jason Washington’s sonorous voice.
Harris knew Payne was not mocking Washington. But still his eyes darted across the room to Washington’s glass-walled office. It was empty.
Harris picked up the pages. “Stanley likes to add comments at the end of the newspaper articles.”
He flipped to the page that had the article on the shooting at the Temple University Hospital. He pointed to it.
Payne and Byrth looked and read:
ARMED MAN MURDERS BURN VICTIM BEFORE FLEEING HOSPITAL, FIRING AT POLICE
While police remain mum on details of the murder, witnesses claim gunman fired shots at man who shouted “Police!” while chasing gunman from hospital.
“Stanley likes to use as his screen name ‘Hung.Up.Badge.But.Not.Gun.’ Here’s what he posted in the comments section.”
Payne and Byrth then read it:
From Hung.Up.Badge.But.Not.Gun (2:56 p.m.):
I talked to an inside source, too, and was told that this was a hit job. Maybe not a professional one, but the burn victim (there?s more to that story that I cannot share) was targeted. So sad to see this happening in Philly. I?ll say it again: Shoot?em all and let the Good Lord sort?em out.
“Interesting perspective on shooting ’em all,” Byrth said. “Probably good thing he is retired.”
“So,” Payne said, “who’s his inside source?”
“Not for dissemination. No reason to get her in trouble just for talking shop with her uncle.”
It was clear by his expression that Payne was trying to figure out who Harris was talking about.
“ ‘Her’?” Payne repeated. “You mean that chunky female who was posted outside of Skipper’s ICU? Stephanie Polish-Something?”
Harris nodded. “Police Officer Stephanie Kowenski, age twenty-five.”
“That’s the one,” Payne said.
“She’s Stanley’s sister’s girl, and his pride and joy. She joined the department because he loved it so much.” Harris paused. “Remind you of anyone, Sergeant Payne?”
Payne made an expression that said he took Harris’s point.
“I guess sometimes there is something in our DNA that makes us hardwired to do this crazy job,” Payne said.
