14 — With a Warning
October 14, 1938
"Look, you gotta lay off this Tamburo angle. The brass are breathin' down my neck..."
"What do I care if the brass are hopped up?" Dwight shrugged.
"I'm not a cop anymore."
"Well I am," Sergeant Henratty growled.
"You keep nosin' around, I'm gonna hafta take you in."
"What charge?"
"Interfering with an investigation."
"What investigation? the shits down at your precinct won't even touch this mess now it's gettin' clear the Tamburos were involved. You, though... Sarge, I didn't figure you for bein' in their pocket."
"I'm in nobody's pocket! I'm just tellin' you to lay off and leave the investigation to the professionals."
"I am a professional! I was a beat cop six years in Michigan, detective nine, and then two more here before I threw in the towel because weasly shits like you an' your precious brass were paid off..."
"Now listen..."
"You listen, Sarge! I..."
Henratty bulled forward and shoved Dwight into the desk chair.
"No! You're damn well gonna listen! I got some good word that the Tamburos did beat the shit out of Ari Angellini. I also know why Renato Tamburo fired him before that."
"Oh do tell," Dwight sulked.
Dominic Tamburo's railing about "perverts" had been weighing on his mind for days. He suspected the answer he was going to get.
"Seems Angellini was getting fresh around Renato's wife. That was one mark against him, but then they caught him tryin' to diddle Renato's oldest kid. 12-year-old little girl."
"Oh."
Dwight's throat went dry as his suspicion was overturned. He had been expecting something far, far less atrocious.
"Furthermore," Henratty went on, "my guy on the inside tells me your little interrogation outside Molly Mackie's set Dominic Tamburo off something fierce. He's been staking out your office, keeping an eye on you."
Dwight puffed out a heavy breath.
"That... That explains the car parked out front."
"Saw that when I came in," Henratty nodded.
"It's Dom's, all right. Shall I tell him, as I leave, to get a move on? And that you'll be laying off investigating his family?"
"I... Yeah. Sure. Sure."
"I tell ya, you nearly bungled this whole thing. If you just lay off and leave it to me, I can finally maybe at least take down one or two of the Tamburos."
"Sure, Sarge. I got it. I... Sure."
Henratty smiled, nodded, and spun on his heel, marching almost militarily out of Dwight's office. Dwight, still hazy, heard him say good afternoon to Pauline as he left, then vaguely heard the door close.
"Pauline? Hey, Pauline?"
"Hmm, boss?"
"Will ya hold calls? And cancel that dinner thing? I... I think I gotta lie down."
"You okay?" Pauline asked, peering into his office.
"Yeah, I just... Kinda tired. Been missing sleep lately."
With that, he rose and went through the side door into his private room. For a moment he sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall, but then he rose, went to the corner cabinet, and fetched a nice, new bottle of rum. Then he made his way to the window and peeped through the blinds down onto the street.
The car was still there, parked across the way, but Henratty was leant against the driver's door, engaged in a rather animated exchange. After a while he stepped back, waved a hand dismissively, and the car roared to life, then tore off down the block and around corner.
Dwight sighed and started to open the rum.
Posted Oct 14, 2019, 5:48 AM UTC · edited