“The Shadow,” Ethan said. “The name seems to fit.” He didn’t know much Spanish, but Art had spoken about this guy before and he remembered the translation.
Fredericks was still talking. “And no one has been able to get an eyewitness to say anything. I get it, they’re looking after their own and don’t want to send a man to the gallows. After all, these aren’t good guys dying. If you ask me, the man’s doing us a favor. But you know the politics of it; every murder needs to be solved. I say let God sort them out.” He finished with, “Then there’s this business of your uncle that’s turning into a cluster fuck and it’s caught the Commissioner’s eye.”
“What are you going to tell the Mayor then?”
Fredericks pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “I’m still trying to think of a way to tell him to fuck himself without hurting his feelings.”
Both men laughed, and Fredericks started up again. “This job will get to you, though. I know we had our words the other day about drinking, but seriously — heading down that path isn’t worth it. I had a friend who told me things about his addiction. He said everyone has to hit their own bottom. Do you know what that is?”
Ethan had his suspicions, but he shook his head and continued enjoying his breakfast.
“He said hitting bottom means having shit happen in your life faster than you can lower your standards to convince yourself that everything is okay.” Fredericks gave a quick head bob in soundless agreement of what he’d just relayed.
Ethan studied Fredericks a moment. There was something about the way his boss had delivered the line that made it seem very personal. Like they weren’t words fostered by a friend but something from his own life experience.
The Captain blew into his coffee and took another gulp. “What about you? Have you found out anything new?”
Another bite of Ethan’s egg and bacon sandwich was on its way to his mouth when he froze, then pulled it away. Should he really divulge everything he’d learned so far? He eyed the brown folder; he’d have to give Fredericks something, or the Captain would think him crazy and snatch this lead away from him.
“Well, it’s all sort of jumbled and I’ve got nothing concrete, more of a hunch than anything. I’d hate to jump the gun and not follow the book. You know — due process and all.” Ethan took a quick bite of food, hoping to buy some thinking time if another inquiry was launched his way.
“Are you fucking kidding me Tannor?” Fredericks hissed, reaching up to loosen his tie. “I’ve stuck my neck out — you can’t pull this crap, especially when I’ve thrown you a pretty big bone as a favor with this here.” He tapped the folder. “Your activities lately have been a fucking mystery, and I don’t even know where the hell you’ve been staying because it sure isn’t at your house!”
Hypertension reddened the Captain’s face. He set his coffee aside and leaned closer across the table, lowering his voice an octave or two. “A day after your uncle dies you demand I release you back to full working status. Now it seems you’re making headway on your personal time — let me remind you I’m giving you full access to investigate — and for some unknown reason, now you can’t stay far enough away from the department.”
Ethan finished chewing, taking his time before swallowing. “There’s a lot of heat on me right now, and I don’t think it’s safe. Did you know some sinister types were ransacking my place?”
Fredericks’ eyes narrowed. “Yeah, Art told me about that. I had it looked into, but your place was untouched. Can’t say the same for outside the building, what with that OK Corral showdown. It’s too much of a coincidence to say these two events aren’t connected. Tell me what the hell is happening.”
The look on Fredericks’ face made Ethan want to ask if the man had taken his blood pressure medication, but he decided it wouldn’t be a safe question. He took a slug of coffee instead. “Look, I’m still trying to figure that out myself. If I find anything significant, I’ll let you know. I just need four more hours.” He worked to keep the pleading tone out of his voice. Fredericks had the ability to shut him down if he wanted and that meant playing this conversation smart.
The Captain scoffed at his subordinate, pinning Ethan with an intense look. This was the patented ‘Fredericks Stare’, which he used when attempting to get a read on his quarry. Ethan forced a neutral expression. Fredericks was rarely wrong in his assessments.
Ethan looked away from the man’s scrutiny and put his cup down. The bottom edge of the mug caught the lip of his plate, spilling its contents.
“Jesus Christ!” Fredericks thundered, pulling his arms back to escape the wave of coffee flowing across the table.
Ethan leaned over, snagging a handful of napkins from the dispenser. There was a sudden crashing sound and for an instant, he thought his elbow had knocked the cup to the ground, shattering it to pieces. Damn, I’m clumsy today! He chanced a look at Fredericks, knowing he’d see deep agitation lines creasing the man’s face, but all he noted was shock. The Captain’s mouth was agape, and on his crisp white shirt a bright red splotch was blooming.
Time came to a standstill as Ethan’s mind detached itself from reality and only one thought managed to push its way through: The coffee splashed all the way over there? Wait … that’s not coffee, that’s —
He ducked down on instinct just as the sound of a second crash exploded around them. Fredericks took another shot, this one to his shoulder. The impact shook his body and he grunted out a moan of pain.
Ethan rolled from the seat and crashed to the floor under the table, screams from the other patrons piercing his ears. He grabbed Fredericks’ coat, yanking him down. Fredericks fell over in the booth. Blood dripped from his mouth, his breathing ragged.
Fredericks coughed, the sound of it wet and sickening. His eyes fluttered, and when they opened again Ethan saw resignation there. Fredericks knew he was gone, but his lips were moving. Ethan barely heard his voice over the screams filling the café.
“I’m … done … Tannor …” Fredericks coughed again, swallowing the blood in his mouth. “Go …” The Captain’s eyes were glassy now and Ethan knew there was nothing he could do to help.
The file! His eyes shot upwards. The folder was still on the table near the edge. Hopefully it had been spared from the coffee spill. He reached up for the folder and more shots pelted the table near his hand.
He yanked back to safety, cursing. He couldn’t turn the table over to get the file because it was bolted to the wall. Another flurry of shots exploded, and Fredericks absorbed a volley of bullets. Then Ethan felt something drop onto his legs and glanced down. It was the folder. Fredericks had enough of his mind left to realize Ethan’s predicament and had somehow managed to lift his arm to the table, pushing the file off to save Ethan from placing himself in danger.
Ethan looked into his friend’s frozen eyes and his chest stung with grief. He’d never be able to thank Fredericks for his sacrifice. But he couldn’t think about that now. He had to get out of here.
He steeled himself and edged closer to the wall, standing up behind the barrier. He peered out at the building across the street. On its third floor the tip of a rifle was sticking out of an open window.
The sniper’s vantage appeared to be limited to only the first couple of booths by the window. Ethan calculated he could make it to the end of the diner and out through its rear exit. This path to safe escape had already occurred to the other customers; they were moving en masse toward the back in a rush of panic, shrieking as they fled.