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

In the end, that was a matter for the police. All he had to do was present the evidence and let the real cops do the work. He parked in a visitors’ space and turned off the engine. Evening sun slanted across the parking lot as he headed inside.

“Robbery? Where the fuck you get that idea?”

McNulty didn’t even have a chance to explain before Harris vented his frustration at the movie man’s interference. The detective had been called down to the front desk and this time didn’t invite McNulty up to his office. He stood in the waiting room doorway and raised his voice right away. The desk sergeant went into the back room to give them some privacy. Cops don’t like witnesses when they tear a strip off members of the public. McNulty had to remember he was only a member of the public.

“Look, here’s what…”

“No. You look.” Harris got himself under control and lowered his voice. “I’ve got a District Court judge climbing up my ass. The Chief of Police is chasing me for answers. And half the force is being pulled from Fourth of July parade control for close-order protection.”

He folded his arms across his chest to contain his anger. “Then you, the least credible witness with links to all the affected parties, come in with a new theory that doesn’t even include the judge who’s crawling all over me. So forgive me if I don’t give your theory too much credence.”

The room became quiet. A fire truck rumbled past outside. McNulty waited to see if Harris had finished, then took another moment before responding. He could understand the detective’s frustration. Cops prefer to get on with the job and it’s annoying when politicians, judges or the brass stick their noses in and tie up your resources. The people furthest removed from the streets always feel they know what’s best when in reality, it’s front-line cops who should make all the important decisions. Harris was being hamstrung.

McNulty nodded. “You finished?”

Harris looked like he was going to explode. “I’ll be finished when people stop getting in my way and I can get on with the investigation.” He jabbed a finger at McNulty. “I should have locked you up after the motel room. Then you wouldn’t keep getting under my feet. So here’s a piece of advice, I’m going to count to ten, and if you’re still here when I’m finished you’re going to stay here. In cuffs. In a cell. Incommunicado.”

He raised a hand and started counting off on his fingers. “One.”

He stared at McNulty. “Two.”

McNulty stared back. “Three.”

Harris didn’t back off. “Four.”

McNulty gave Harris one last hard stare then spun on his heels. “Fuck it.”

By the time Harris reached five, McNulty was out the front door and striding toward his car.

THIRTY-SIX

Larry wasn’t in the shower when McNulty finally stopped wandering and went to see him later that evening. It was getting dark and the light was on in Larry’s room. McNulty stood on the motel balcony for several minutes, soaking up the sound of the river and the cool night air, then he knocked on the door. Larry looked out through the drapes then opened the door.

“You come to wash my back?”

“If you’re getting a shower I’m going to see Amy.”

“That’s something you should consider.”

McNulty let out a long deep sigh and slumped against the wall. “There’s a lot to consider. And Amy’s bottom of the list.”

They sat in the same chairs at the same table as last time but without the bathrobe and the pruning flesh. McNulty had had plenty of time to think about his next move while driving around Waltham after having been kicked out of the police station by Detective Harris. None of it had made for pleasant thinking. All of it had an element of risk. And some of it needed the help of an understanding producer.

“Absolutely fucking not.”

The understanding producer was going to take some work. McNulty leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs and prepared to formulate his argument. In situations like this he favored affirmative action. Or threats.

“Larry. This is going to go one of two ways.” He rested one hand on the table and put the other in his pocket. Casual-like. “Either I quit and look into this myself…”

Larry sat back as if slapped across the face. He blinked twice. “You serious?”

McNulty kept his tone friendly, the threat implied not overt. “Or I take a couple of days off and do some digging. Get to the bottom of this and save the Titanic.”

Larry was getting used to being slapped across the face. “The Titanic’s in danger?”

McNulty uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. “The police are pinning all this on a movie company that’s linked to a porn trial and happens to be making a film about a judge who’s a dead-ringer for the real judge in the porn trial, and doing it in a replica of the judge’s real courtroom. If they make that stick, or if it goes public, you haven’t got a movie. And you sure as shit won’t have a production company.”

Larry’s face was as red as when he’d come out of the shower. “But the photos.”

McNulty shrugged. “We didn’t get around to that.”

“So push it.”

“He doesn’t trust me. And anyway, it shows the shooting but doesn’t give any reason why we’re not involved.” He waved at Larry. “They’ve still got you tied up with the trial.” He indicated himself. “And me tied up with everything.” He sighed. “My robbery theory. That’s just speculation. I’ve got no evidence.”

Larry shifted in his seat. “You’re not a cop. You don’t need evidence.”

McNulty took his hand out of his pocket. “They’re cops. Evidence is all they listen to.”

Larry considered that for a moment, then looked at his technical adviser. “Can you get the evidence?”

McNulty raised his eyebrows. “If I take a couple of days off to do some digging.”

Larry kept