Boulevard Read Free Page A

the pooch stretched out on the table—it was this real pretty golden retriever—I felt kinda, you know, bad about it.”
    â€œYou felt bad?”
    â€œI felt bad.”
    â€œI don’t believe it.”
    â€œYeah. I got more goddamn feelings for a dead dog, than for the average gangbanger that shows up every night.”
    Jimmy shrugged, “How about my guy. Any feelings for him?”
    â€œMan, it’s a hot case. I can’t believe they gave it to you.”
    â€œHey—thanks a lot.”
    â€œYou know what I mean. Just, you know, I figured they’d give it to some buddy of the chief’s.”
    â€œI don’t make the call. They say do it, I do it.”
    â€œWhat was the vic doing at the Chateau, anyway?” Christian said.
    â€œNo crime being there. Right? Maybe he had a squeeze.”
    â€œHe was a big deal over at city hall.”
    â€œThe mayor’s oldest buddy, or some such shit,” Jimmy said.
    â€œHe an asshole?”
    â€œDunno yet.” On every other case, Jimmy would be the first to call this guy an asshole. What was he doing at the Chateau, when he had a wife and kid at home? But on this one, even with Christian, he’d better be careful with what he said. And the reality was, mayor’s best buddy, trash collector’s best buddy—anyone can be an asshole. Jimmy thought about when he coached little league, back when they were all together. In his first meeting with the parents, he would always say to them, “As parents, you gotta be super careful who you trust your kids with. How do you know I’m not a coach and a child abuser?” The parents would say things like, “You’re a parent yourself,” or “You’re a police detective.” Jimmy would answer back, “We arrested an officer for child abuse right out of my own stationhouse last year. The guy had been at it for years.” As far as Jimmy was concerned, everybody was an asshole—until proven otherwise.
    He looked back at Christian, “How’s my dead guy? Got anything wonderful for me?”
    â€œKnow something, he really must’ve pissed someone off …”
    Christian reached into his backpack and pulled out a large chest x-ray. He held it up to a faded, red Chinese lantern sconce. Jimmy leaned closer to the dim light.
    â€œ That is one hell of a lot of cuts. Big ones, little ones and lots in between. He was way-dead and the knife kept going in and in and in. Twenty-nine times.”
    â€œNasty shit.”
    â€œWay nasty. This was no stick it, and grab the wallet.”
    â€œWhat time did it go down?”
    â€œI got the death between one and four a.m. Knife, of course. Serrated edge, very thin, pretty small. Just under four inches.
    â€œThe blood?”
    â€œTons of the vic’s. A-pos’,” Christian said. “But they also found some B-pos’ which came off the backboard. Have to figure that’s the killer’s. Probably got sliced with the blade.”
    â€œWhat else on the perp?” Jimmy said.
    â€œNot much. But it’s a southpaw, which you get a lot less of. Anything come back on the prints?”
    â€œNothing in the computer. A virgin.”

5
    T he car was unmarked, but if you spent more than five minutes on the street, you’d have to be pretty dense not to know a slow-moving Crown Victoria had to have a cop inside. Jimmy suddenly pulled the car hard to the right, jerking to a stop in front of Tulip. She eyed the car suspiciously, slowly drifting away. Then she recognized Jimmy, slid up to the door, and crouched down beside it as she looked in the window.
    â€œTulip. Get in.”
    She pulled open the door, and at the same time, tossed her gum into a garbage-strewn parking lot. He knew her for years, and last winter she gave him the I.D. on a psycho pimp who killed one of his whores over sixty bucks. Tulip saw it all go down, and when the public defender read