Sacred Sins Read Free Page A

service was with pine cleaner and dust rags, the rooms forever smelled of stale smoke, wet coffee grounds, and fresh sweat. True, they'd taken up a pool in the spring and delegated one of the detectives to buy some plants to put on the windowsills. They weren't dying, but they weren't flourishing either.
    Ben passed a desk and nodded to Lou Roderick as the detective typed up a report. This was a cop who took his caseload steadily, the way an accountant takes corporate taxes.
    “Harris wants to see you,” Lou told him, and without looking up, managed to convey a touch of sympathy. “Just got in from a meeting with the mayor. And I think Lowenstein took a message for you.”
    “Thanks.” Ben eyed the Snickers bar on Roderick's desk. “Hey, Lou—”
    “Forget it.” Roderick continued to type his report without breaking rhythm.
    “So much for brotherhood,” Ben muttered, and sauntered over to Lowenstein.

    She was a different type from Roderick altogether, Ben mused. She worked in surges, stop and go, and was more comfortable on the street than at a typewriter. Ben respected Lou's preciseness, but as a backup he'd have chosen Lowenstein, whose proper suits and trim dresses didn't hide the fact that she had the best legs in the department. Ben took a quick look at them before he sat on the corner of her desk. Too bad she was married, he thought.
    Poking idly through her papers, he waited for her to finish her call. “How's it going, Lowenstein?”
    “My garbage disposal's throwing up and the plumber wants three hundred, but that's all right because my husband's going to fix it.” She spun a form into her typewriter. “It'll only cost us twice as much that way. How about you?” She smacked his hand away from the Pepsi on her desk. “Got anything new on our priest?”
    “Just a corpse.” If there was bitterness, it was hard to detect. “Ever been to Doug's, down by the Canal?”
    “I don't have your social life, Paris.”
    He gave a quick snort then picked up the fat mug that held her pencils. “She was a cocktail waitress there. Twenty-seven.”
    “No use letting it get to you,” she murmured, then seeing his face, passed him the Pepsi. It always got to you. “Harris wants to see you and Ed.”
    “Yeah, I know.” He took a long swallow, letting the sugar and caffeine pour into his system. “Got a message for me?”
    “Oh, yeah.” With a smirk, she pushed through her papers until she found it. “Bunny called.” When the high, breathy voice didn't get a rise out of him, she sent him an arch look and handed him the paper. “She wants to know what time you're picking her up. She sounded real cute, Paris.”
    He pocketed the slip and grinned. “She is real cute, Lowenstein, but I'd dump her in a minute if you wanted to cheat on your husband.”

    When he walked off without returning her drink, she laughed and went back to typing out the form.
    “They're turning my apartment into condos.” Ed hung up the phone and went with Ben toward Harris's office. “Fifty thousand. Jesus.”
    “It's got bad plumbing.” Ben drained the rest of the Pepsi and tossed it into a can.
    “Yeah. Got any vacancies over at your place?”
    “Nobody leaves there unless they die.”
    Through the wide glass window of Harris's office they could see the captain standing by his desk as he talked on the phone. He'd kept himself in good shape for a man of fifty-seven who'd spent the last ten years behind a desk. He had too much willpower to run to fat. His first marriage had gone under because of the job, his second because of the bottle. Harris had given up booze and marriage, and now the job took the place of both. The cops in his department didn't necessarily like him, but they respected him. Harris preferred things that way. Glancing up, he signaled for both men to enter.
    “I want the lab reports before five. If there was a piece of lint on her sweater, I want to know where it came from. Do your job. Give me something to