Jack Davis Mystery - 01 - Shakedown by Joel Goldman Page A

mind. You didn’t have your officer ?ag me down to inquire about my health. What do you want?”
    “Do me a favor, get out of the car. I’m too old to stay bent over like this. I stay down here much longer and my officers will need a crowbar to get me to stand up straight.”
    Grisnik stepped back, giving me room to open the car door. Up close, he wasn’t old. He was a powerhouse, a point he made by putting me in his shadow.
    “When you asked for my help with your fugitive warrant, you didn’t want to tell me what was going down,” he said. “I got that. I didn’t like it, but I got it. But you gave me your word that your case, whatever it was, wouldn’t blow up. Next thing I know, five people are dead. That’s not blown up. That’s a goddamn explosion.”
    “We had no way of knowing that was going to happen.”
    He started to jab his finger at me. I blocked him with my palm, firmly pushing his hand away, letting him know that he couldn’t treat me like a suspect or a rookie cop, no matter how angry he was. He took a breath, keeping his voice low, his words clipped.
    “That doesn’t mean squat to me or the people who are dead. Three men, a woman, and a child were murdered in my city. I take that personally.”
    “You could have shut Marcellus Pearson down any time you wanted. If you had done your job, he and the Winston brothers would be in jail. Jalise Williams and her son would be alive. I don’t have to listen to you blame me for what happened to them.”
    My chin bobbed, my voice trembled, and my eyes squeezed shut as I finished my self-defense. Grisnik gave me some room, letting me settle. I waved my hand.
    “Don’t worry,” I told him. “I’m not going to foam at the mouth.”
    “Good. That’s what happens to a dog with rabies. Back when I was on patrol, I had to shoot a rabid dog one time to keep him off a little kid. Tore me up to shoot that dog. I’d feel almost as bad if I had to shoot you.”
    “I’m touched. So why didn’t you bust Marcellus?”
    “I work Robbery and Homicide, not drugs. Our drug squad did bust him, more than once. Sometimes the house was clean, like he knew we were coming. Other times, we had problems with the arrests. Prosecutor wouldn’t take the case or the judge would throw out the evidence.”
    “That’s why we went after him and why I couldn’t bring you into the loop.”
    “I know that. What I don’t get is why the FBI doesn’t want my help catching whoever killed those people.”
    “Troy Clark told you he didn’t want your help?”
    ” ‘Course he didn’t tell me that. Said the exact opposite. Told me how he’d be leaning on me all the way. Then when I offered to send one of my detectives over to work with him, he said he’d get back to me. Hasn’t happened.”
    I defended Troy—another act of re?exive loyalty. “You know how these cases are. No one goes home, no one sleeps or eats. Give him some time. He’ll get back to you.”
    Grisnik snorted, shook his head. “Then I hear that they showed you the curb, said you were unstable. Now I find you roaming around a few blocks from where the murders took place and I ask myself what you are doing over here since I’m guessing you don’t have friends or relatives in the neighborhood.”
    Grisnik wanted the same thing I did—information. I knew my reasons. His were obvious. This was his turf and he didn’t like being shut out.
    “Not a one.”
    “Makes me wonder whether everyone at the FBI is an idiot or an asshole,” he said. “Which do you think it is?”
    “One doesn’t rule the other out,” I told him.
    That made him laugh. He wiped the sweat off his face. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
    I followed him to the man he’d been talking with when I drove up.
    “Jack Davis, say hello to Rodney Jensen.” Rodney and I shook hands. “Mr. Davis is with the FBI. Tell him what you told me.”
    Rodney turned his jowly face to me, hiked up his pants, resting his thumbs inside