Be Mine by Rick Mofina Page B

Hooper’s death, he’d arranged for certain
dangerous information about Hooper to make its way to Citizens’ Complaints.
Didn’t need to be true. Bleeder knew it would cause a stink for the zealots in
OCC and MC to go to the homicide detail and mess with them. He knew it would
raise the flag of alleged corruption, turn up the heat on the investigation.
    And now it was paying off, bringing him closer to his prize.
    Molly Wilson.

TWENTY-TWO

     
    Driving downtown to meet sources the
next morning, Tom used his cell phone at every red light to try to contact
Sydowski. No luck. He tried Molly Wilson’s home, then her cell. Nothing. He
tried a few cop sources knowing they’d go mute because of his story. He was
right.
    Damn.
    He sensed something was brewing, something happening on this story.
There had to be a way to bust it wide open. Tom had learned long ago from
Sydowski that Internal Affairs and OCC’s intelligence usually flowed from two
streams: pissed-off cops and the street. He jabbed in a number he kept in his
head. It took seven rings before a man’s rasping voice answered.
    “Yes.”
    “This is Tom. Is Lois around?”
    “Hello, Tom. I’ve seen her around, yes.”
    “Is she well?”
    “I don’t think so. Not at the moment.”
    “When she feels better, would you please contact me? I’ve been
trying to reach her.”
    “Yes. I will do that.”
    “Thank you. It’s very important.”
    Tom took advantage of the next red light to try another call. Man,
it was obvious. Why didn’t he think of it earlier? He’d call Ray Beamon. No one
had gone after Hooper’s partner for data, or an interview. Maybe he’d react to
his OCC story.
    Before he could call, his phone rang.
    It was Tammy, the newsroom receptionist, and she was whispering.
    “It’s happened just like you said. Irene’s called a meeting on the
cop murder but she told Acker not to tell you.”
    “Of course, she’s trying to bushwhack me. When is it?”
    “Thirty minutes.”
    “Thanks. I owe you.”
    The instant Tammy spotted Tom in the newsroom she directed him to
the boardroom. Acker, Lepp, and Della were just seating themselves when he
arrived. Pepper had her back to them while pouring coffee at the credenza. When
she turned to see Tom, crimson rose on her cheeks.
    “Oh, I’m glad someone reached you,” she lied.
    Acker’s attention pinballed between them. Whatever thoughts he had,
he kept to himself.
    “All right,” she said. “This will be a very short meeting on the
Hooper case to see how we can advance the story.”
    “Hey,” Acker said to Tom, “great piece on the OCC.”
    Ignoring the compliment, Pepper plowed ahead.
    “Della, you’re mining the neighborhood and Hooper’s friends,” she
said.
    “Yes, I’m close to putting together a long take on Hooper’s last
twenty-four hours,” Thompson said. “From the moment he rose, until Molly found
him. I just need to talk to a few more friends.”
    “And, Simon, how are you doing?”
    “I’ve been going through Hooper’s old cases, see if anyone
threatened him, gauge his enemies. By the way, looks like you reported on the
majority of Hooper’s cases.” Lepp turned to Tom.
    “You find anything?” he asked.
    “A few things but I’m going to need more time.”
    Tom noticed that Pepper was focused on her doodling when she asked
him, “And what are you working on?”
    “I’m still pushing the investigation angle. And following my OCC
story and I’m working on street sources.”
    Pepper said nothing about Tom’s exclusive story. She’d been drawing
circles on her pad, keeping her attention on her doodling. “Where’s Molly?
What’s she doing?” she asked Tom.
    “I don’t know.”
    “So you have no idea if she’s working on that first-person account
of the night she found Hooper?”
    “No, I don’t think she’s up to it. But I don’t speak for her.”
    Pepper’s eyes went to Tom.
    “Okay, thank you, everybody. We’re done for now.” She stood and