At the City's Edge by Marcus Sakey Page B

job. These guys, it’s like they think I’m after their livelihood or something. Which is crazy. It’s not like I have
     political aspirations.’
    ‘Elena, this is Chicago.’ He shrugged. ‘Everybody has political aspirations.’
    She started to laugh, then saw he wasn’t joking.
    ‘Don’t worry.’ He adjusted his watch. ‘It’ll be forgotten before you know it.’
    She stared at him. Wondered if he could really be that dense. ‘You know what somebody asked me the
other day? This beat cop trying to impress his buddies?’ She leaned forward. ‘He asked if now that you’d been promoted you
     ranked a bigger desk, or if I was still banging my head against the bottom of the old one.’ Coffee slopped over the rim of
     her cup as she set it down hard. ‘Don’t tell me it’ll be forgotten, okay,
Chief
? You’re not the one who has to listen to that and pretend it’s a joke. You’re not the one who got fucked here.’
    The waitress arrived with steaming plates, one eyebrow just slightly cocked, like she’d caught the end of the conversation.
     Cruz ignored her, picked up a fork, and cut off a bite of the quiche. Chewed without tasting, her pulse racing.
    ‘You know,’ Donlan said, gaze steady, ‘no one forced you into that hotel room.’
    ‘I’m not pissed about the hotel room. I’m pissed about what happened afterward.’
    ‘We’ve been over this. I’m sorry it got out, but I didn’t tell anyone.’
    ‘Neither did I.’
    ‘Elena,’ he shrugged. ‘Cops talk. They hypothesize, they bullshit each other, they gossip like old ladies. You know that.’
    ‘Is that why we needed to have breakfast this morning?’ She felt sweat under her arms, set her fork down to hide the anger
     shakes. ‘So you could remind me cops talk?’
    Donlan finished chewing, used the corner of his napkin to wipe his lips. ‘No.’ He straightened, put on
his official face. ‘I heard one of your CIs bought it yesterday.’
    Her head jerked up. ‘What?’
    ‘Somebody Palmer, died in a fire?’
    ‘He wasn’t a confidential informant,’ she said slowly. ‘Just a citizen I was working with.’ She paused. ‘That’s a little small
     to make your radar, isn’t it?’
    ‘You like anybody for it?’
    ‘Palmer was being taxed by the Gangster Disciples. And he volunteered with a community anti-gang group, the Lantern Bearers.’
     What was this? Donlan had recently been promoted to Deputy Chief of the Area One Detective Division, the latest step in a
     meteoric rise. Him taking an interest in this case was like the mayor worrying about a broken stoplight.
    ‘So it was a gang hit,’ he said.
    ‘I’m not sure.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘It’s too simple.’ She hesitated, trying to choose her words. ‘I met Michael Palmer at a CAPs meeting. He came up afterwards,
     asked to talk with me later. When I came by his bar, he claimed he had some info on the gangs. Said it was something big.’
    ‘That sounds like motive.’
    ‘I know, it’s just…’ She shrugged. ‘He was really hush about it. Wouldn’t even tell me what exactly he meant. But he said
     that it went beyond the gangs. That other people were involved.’ She paused. ‘Then his bar burned with him in it.’

    Donlan sighed, shook his head. ‘And you think it’s a conspiracy.’
    ‘I’m just being thorough.’ Under the table, she laced her fingers and squeezed until the bones ached. ‘I knew the guy.’
    ‘You making this personal, Officer?’
    She straightened. ‘No, sir.’
    ‘This case is a heater. As long as the bangers are shooting each other, nobody gives a shit. But when they kill citizens,
     we act.’
    ‘I agree. I just want to make sure –’
    ‘Enough,’ he said. ‘This was a gang hit. Homicide is going to wrap it fast. You want to be thorough, help us with intel. Don’t
     go playing detective and screw up a slam dunk.’ He set his fork down precisely beside the plate. ‘You get me?’
    She got him, all right. Donlan had knocked