Read from the Beginning
Read Part 7
When Gilbert made it back to the office that he and Parme shared with Tremayne White and his partner, the other three were already there. White’s partner was a rail-thin man sporting a 1970s mustache and an outfit from roughly the same era by the name of Paul Nauscott. He and White were smiling and talking about the last time one of them was smacked in the nose by a suspect.
About the time Gilbert walked in, Parme had just drawn his service revolver and was setting it on the desk in front of him. White and Nauscott abruptly folded up their humor and left the office. The speed of their exit made Gilbert wonder if what White had told him earlier about Parme shooting someone had some truth in it. Would his new partner really shoot him if the mood struck him? Gilbert didn’t wonder on it long as he had more pressing questions to ask.
“What was that all about?” he asked Parme.
His partner dabbed his nose with a tissue and looked up at him under heavy brows. He made no reply.
“I thought you liked Eagan for the murder,” Gilbert said.
“I do.”
“Then why did you tell me to uncuff him?” Gilbert sat down in the chair across from his partner and suddenly realized how tired he was. Television crime fighters might do the job for 24 hours straight, but Gilbert had now worked longer than that without sleep and he felt like shit.
Parme eyed him for a long moment, with a look that told Gilbert he was trying to decide whether to explain something he thought was quite simple about effective suspect interrogation or just shoot him.
Finally, he said, “Look, the guy is clearly trying to set up an insanity plea. He knows we have him and now he has only two choices, he can flee, in which case we’ll catch him because we’ll have him under surveillance, or he’ll go ape shit crazy in an attempt to convince the court that he’s not competent to stand trial. Now, which do you think taking a swing at me qualifies as?”
Gilbert rubbed his eyes. His college professors hadn’t taught him any of this. He wondered whether he should have paid more for his education or whether he just needed some sleep.
“He may be crazy,” Gilbert started.
“Hell yeah, he’s crazy! He’s lucky I didn’t pound the dogshit out of him in there.”
“But he’s also afraid.”
“He’d damn well better be afraid,” Parme said.
“No, he’s afraid of going home. There’s something in that apartment building that has him scared,” Gilbert said. “I don’t think he was faking that.”
“I don’t know,” Parme said. “And I don’t care. In a day or so, we’ll have the DNA results back from the lab and we’ll be able to link that little shit to the murder scene and we’ll wrap this all up.”
“I think I should go back out to that apartment,” Gilbert said.
“No, you’re going home and getting some sleep,” his partner said. “You look like shit. I’ll continue to work down the list of known offenders in the area just to kill time while the lab gives us some evidence. I’ll see you at the cafe, first thing in the morning.”
Gilbert started to protest but he yawned instead. He said good-bye and headed home.
Read Part 9.
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