Tracking Shot by Colin Campbell (best book reader .TXT) 📕

Larry kept his face blank. “What makes you think that?”

“Because it’s a high-profile case.”

“Can’t be that high profile. You didn’t know about it.”

McNulty flicked his glass and the sharp ping sounded clean in a dirty world. “I didn’t start out as a pornographer.”

Larry’s shoulders sagged. Being reminded of his shady past always brought mixed emotions; shame at how he’d started out and pride at having left that life behind. Of course the fact that McNulty had sunk the producer’s last remaining tie to that life in Quincy Harbor had helped. Now he was an up-and-coming mainstream producer and Titanic Productions was going from strength to strength. He looked at McNulty and sighed. “You mean thumbing my nose at the porn industry by duplicating the court case against them in Dead Naked?”

McNulty nodded. “I mean exactly that.”

Larry shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

The waitress came over and set up a trestle beside their table. She rested the serving tray on the trestle and picked up the first of the pizzas. “Sporkie?”

Larry raised a hand and the waitress put the sweet Italian sausage and ricotta pizza on his half of the table. She wiped a plate with a cloth and laid it in front of him. The cutlery was already set. She passed McNulty the other pizza.

“And the Ultimate Bertucci. Enjoy your meal gentlemen.”

McNulty watched her walk away. “She must have us mixed up with someone else.” Then he looked at Larry. “Like somebody did at the courthouse.”

Larry unwrapped his knife and fork. “It wasn’t at the courthouse.”

McNulty left his cutlery alone. “Exactly. Because the courthouse has security up the wazoo. So the best way to send a message is to shoot the judge’s double.”

Larry held a knife in one hand and the fork in the other. “No. I don’t buy that. It’s gotta be a coincidence.”

McNulty lowered his voice. “The police don’t believe in coincidences.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “Like a pornographer setting up a duplicate court, then the judge getting shot.”

Larry was unmoved. “Former pornographer.”

McNulty shook his head. “Cops don’t see former. For them it’s like alcoholics. You might be ninety days sober but you’re always an alcoholic.” He kept a level gaze on Larry. “Which puts you high on their suspects list.” Then he tapped his own chest. “And me in the shit.”

Larry frowned. “Why you?”

McNulty blew out his cheeks then took a slow breath. “Because I work for the prime suspect and just tried to steal the Zapruder film.”

“You didn’t.”

“That’s what it looks like. Me trying to cover up for you by searching the cameraman’s room.”

He didn’t mention the other reason he was screwed, the connection between the orphanage and his sister. Detective Jon Harris had plenty of reasons not to believe anything McNulty said. The only way to get out from under that was to bring the detective something nobody currently had. Footage of the shooter. Or the shooter himself.

“You had fake security guards as well as the judge, didn’t you?”

Larry nodded. “You know I did. You trained them.”

McNulty glanced at the ceiling and smiled at the CCTV surveillance camera. “And security cameras?”

Larry waved a finger. “They’re fake too. There’s no footage there.”

McNulty leaned back in his chair. “The gunman doesn’t know that.”

FOURTEEN

There are good ideas and there are bad ideas. Some ideas are good but require so many things to go right that they border on being bad. And some ideas are just plain bad, but have good intentions. As McNulty laid out his plan, Larry wasn’t sure which category it fell into, but one thing was for sure: Win or lose, it was going to go off with a bang. When McNulty finished, it was Larry’s turn to state the obvious.

“Nobody’s that stupid.”

McNulty pushed his empty pizza plate away. “He was stupid enough to shoot the wrong judge.”

Larry took a drink of water. “I thought we’d agreed that was a message to the real judge.”

“Pretty stupid message.”

Larry put his glass down. “Not if you want to warn him off without risking being shot at.”

McNulty shrugged. “However it came about, he was serious about getting the Zapruder film.” He kept steady eyes on the producer. “So he’ll come after the CCTV footage as well.”

Regardless of whether the idea was good or bad, there was one more thing Larry was sure of: Win or lose, Titanic Productions was going to get a lot of free publicity. Now all he had to do was get the word out. On the sly. That was right up Larry’s alley. He looked at his technical adviser. “What are you going to do in the meantime?”

McNulty waved for the bill. “I’m going to see a man about a paint job.”

They were working late at Abko Auto Body. The sound of drilling and spraying echoed across the yard when McNulty drove past Aston Martin of Boston and pulled into the dusty lot. The workshop was down an alley around the side of Abko Auto Sales, which advertised,

QUALITY PRE-OWNED

CARS FOR SALE

The cars on the forecourt suggested pre-owned trumped quality by a good margin. The hours of business were shown as:

MON-FRI 7.30-5.30

The car sales office was closed. The body shop was open. McNulty wasn’t buying a car. He walked down the alley toward the noise. This was one of those gut-instinct inquiries that had served him so well in the police. Crime fiction and movies called it playing a hunch. McNulty considered it following his nose. Right now his nose was smelling fresh paint. He found the foreman in a wooden office next to the sliding doors. “You boys always work this late?”

The foreman looked up from his desk. “Only when people want their cars sprayed.” He nodded toward the orphanage across Linden Street. “And when jobs back up because movie companies want quiet during the day.” He looked at McNulty. “Don’t tell me you’re filming now.”

McNulty came into