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“Define ‘out of the ordinary,’ Sergeant Payne.”
They all chuckled.
Harris, looking deep in thought, then said, “Not really. Gartner was wearing a T-shirt that read PEACE LOVE JUSTICE.”
Payne snorted. “File that under ‘Irony,’ Detective, not ‘Extraordinary.’”
Harris shrugged. After a minute, he added, “Well, the only other thing that comes to mind is that there wasn’t any paperwork attached.”
“Really?” Payne said, visibly surprised. “Now, that’s out of the ordinary—outside the MO of the other pop-and-drops, that is.”
“Paperwork?” O’Hara asked, looking from Matt to Tony. “Like police forms?”
Then he looked at Payne.
“Wait,” O’Hara said. “Back up. Explain that ‘outside the others’ modus operandi oddity thing. What method of operation?”
Payne took a sip of his single-malt, then said: “The MO in the other cases is that someone’s shooting fugitives in the head or chest and dumping their bodies. Further, the dead guys—and they’re only guys, so far—are wanted on outstanding warrants. A couple of them jumped bail, the others violated parole, for sex crimes against women and children. Involuntary deviant sexual intercourse, rape, aggravated indecent assault. These shits get popped point-blank, then dumped at a district station, one we assume is closest to where they got nabbed.”
“None dumped at the Roundhouse?”
“None. At least not yet. That’d be an interesting situation.”
O’Hara nodded as he took all that in.
“Now, the difference between those dumped at the districts and these two tonight is that tonight there was no ‘paperwork’—printouts of the bad guys’ Wanted info downloaded from the Internet. All the others had their paperwork stapled to them.”
“Stapled? Like to their clothes?”
Payne nodded. “Usually. But one bastard who’d raped a ten-year-old girl had his sheet stapled clean through his prick. Multiple times.”
“Ouch!” O’Hara said, instinctively crossing his legs.
Payne then said, “You know, it’s funny, because your website is one place from where more than one of the Wanted posters has been downloaded. You can tell because the line at the foot of the page shows the date the page was printed and its source URL.”
“That’s great to know,” O’Hara said. “That means that CrimeFreePhilly is working!”
“Only,” Payne said dryly, “to create more crime, it would appear. As far as I know, as much as a miserable dirty rotten shit Danny Gartner was, he had no criminal record.”
O’Hara shrugged. “Chalk it up to collateral damage. You associate with swine, you’re going to get muddy, too.”
“Jay-Cee,” Harris put in, “had charges against him of involuntary deviant sexual intercourse and rape of an unconscious or unaware person in one case that Gartner got tossed.”
Payne nodded, then took a swallow of his single-malt and glanced at his watch.
“I need to get the hell out of here. I’m trying to have a life outside of work,” he said, then looked at O’Hara. “Okay, Mick. That’s all we know at this point. Now tell me what you know.”
O’Hara raised his glass. “Not a goddamn thing, Matty. That’s why you’re called the confidential source close to the Roundhouse, and I’m called the reporter.”
O’Hara took a sip of his drink as Payne gave him the finger.
“Sorry, pal. I really wish I had something for you. You know that eventually I will. And when I do, it’s yours.”
They all then stared into their glasses, quietly thinking.
After some time, O’Hara suddenly said, “So, Matty, what do you think are the chances of solving this?”
“Seriously?”
