Cause to Kill

The second floor of the A1 police department in central Boston was an expansive, churning engine of activity. Cubicles filled the center of the expansive workspace, and smaller glass offices surrounded the side windows. Cops glared at Avery as she passed.

“Murderer,” someone muttered under his breath.

“Homicide will be perfect for you,” said another.

Avery passed a female Irish cop whom she had saved from the clutches of a gang den; she flashed Avery a quick glance and whispered, “Good luck, Avery. You deserve it.”

Avery smiled. “Thanks.”

Her first kind word of the day gave her a boost of confidence that she took with her into the captain’s office. To her surprise, Ramirez stood only a few feet outside the glass partition. He lifted his coffee and grinned.

“Come on in,” the captain said. “And close the door behind you.”

Avery sat down.

O’Malley was even more formidable close up. The dye job on his hair was noticeable, along with the many wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. He rubbed his temples and sat back.

“You like it here?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean this, the A1. Heart of Boston. You’re in the thick of it, here. Big City Dog. You’re a small-town girl, right? Oklahoma?”

“Ohio.”

“Right, right,” he muttered. “What is it about the A1 you like so much? There are a lot of other departments in Boston. You could have started at Southside, B2, maybe D14 and got a taste of the suburbs. Lots of gangs out there. You only applied here.”

“I like big cities.”

“We get some real sickos here. You sure you wanna go down that road again? This is homicide. A little different than beat.”

“I watched the leader of the West Side Killers flay someone alive while the rest of his gang sang songs and watched. What kind of ‘sickos’ are we talking about?”

O’Malley watched her every move.

“The way I hear it,” he said, “you got played – hard – by that Harvard psycho. He made you look like a fool. Destroyed your life. From star attorney to disgraced attorney, then nothing. And then the switch to rookie cop. That had to hurt.”

Avery squirmed in her chair. Why did he have to rehash all this? Why now? Today was a day to celebrate her promotion to Homicide, and she didn’t want to ruin it – and certainly didn’t want to dwell on the past. What was done was done. She could only look forward.

“You turned it around, though” – he nodded in respect – “made a new life for yourself down here. On the right side this time. Gotta respect that. But,” he said, looking her over, “I want to make sure you’re ready. Are you ready?”

She stared back, wondering where he was going with this.

“If I wasn’t ready,” she said, “I wouldn’t be here.”

He nodded, seemingly satisfied.

“We just got a call,” he said. “A dead girl. Staged. It doesn’t look good. Guys on the scene don’t know what to make of it.”

Avery’s heart beat faster.

“I’m ready,” she said.

“Are you?” he asked. “You’re good, but if this turns out to be something big, I want to make sure you won’t crack.”

“I don’t crack,” she said.

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” he said and pushed some papers on his desk. “Dylan Connelly supervises Homicide. He’s over there now working with forensics. You’ve got a new partner, too. Try not to get him killed.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” Avery complained, and she inwardly bristled at the recent Internal Affairs investigation, all because her former partner – a prejudiced hothead – had jumped the gun and tried to infiltrate a gang all by himself and take credit for her work.

The chief pointed outside.

“Your partner’s waiting. I’ve made you lead detective. Don’t let me down.”

She turned to see Ramirez waiting. She groaned.

“Ramirez? Why him?”

“Honestly?” The captain shrugged. “He’s the only one that wanted to work with you. Everyone else here seems to hate you.”

She felt that knot in her stomach tightening.

“Tread softly, young detective,” he added, as he stood, signaling their meeting was over. “You need all the friends you can get.”

CHAPTER TWO

“How did it go?” Ramirez asked, as Avery exited the office.

She lowered her head and kept on walking. Avery hated small talk, and she didn’t trust any of her fellow cops to talk to her without trading barbs.

“Where are we headed?” she replied.

“All business.” Ramirez smiled. “Good to know. All right, Black; we’ve got a dead girl placed on a bench in Lederman Park, by the river. It’s a high-traffic area. Not really a place you’d put a body.”

Officers slapped palms with Ramirez.

“Go get her, tiger!”

“Break her in right, Ramirez.”

Avery shook her head. “Nice,” she said.

Ramirez raised his hands.

“It’s not me.”

“It’s all of you,” she sneered. “I never thought a police station would be worse than a law firm. Secret boys’ club, right? No girls allowed?”