Post Pattern (Burnside Mystery 1) by David Chill Page A

slumping
lifelessly in my chair. No suspects, an investigation unlikely. Any tie-in with
the Freeman death would be viewed as coincidental. No one had an explanation
for why they dumped her body in my office, least of all me. Lafferty had said
maybe I was getting a reputation for attracting wayward adolescents. He was
lucky he didn’t say it to my face.
    "The Captain’s a real piece of work," Saavedra
warned. "You may think Batson is difficult, but Lafferty's the one to
worry about. With Batson, at least there's no doubt about where you
stand."
    "I'll remember that," I said and changed the
subject. "Any chance of picking up that DVD from the Freeman party?"
    "Hey Burnside, you wanta get your rocks off why
don't you just download some porn."
    "No, someone like you might check my computer one
day," I said. "How 'bout it, pal?"
    He sighed loudly. "I suppose I can sneak it out for
a day or two. Who cares at this point. C'mon over this afternoon. It's in
lock-up but I might be persuaded to bend some rules."
    It was my turn to sigh. "How much persuading?"
    "Dodgers-Giants next week. Box seats."
    "Done." Like I said, everyone had their price.
    *
    It was almost eleven by the time I parked across the
street from Neary's, and while the winds were tapering off somewhat, it felt as
hot as ever. Inclement weather was one of the problems with surveillance work.
Since I might be here a while, running the air conditioner all day would drain
either my battery or my gas tank. I resigned myself to sitting with the
ignition off and the windows open. The thought of having a black vehicle was no
longer as chic as I once hoped. I would have liked to have worn shorts but
there remained the problem of hiding my weapon. So reluctantly I wore a pair of
white pants that safely covered the .38 strapped to my ankle.
    Dehydration was also a real problem on a day like this
so I stocked up on a large bag of pretzels, a smoked turkey sandwich on rye
bread and a couple of bottles of water. This presented another tricky issue but
fortunately there was a Shell station down the street. Hopefully the men's room
was in good working order.
    I brought along two newspapers and a stack of Sports
Illustrateds that I had been saving for a rainy day which never came. If I got
bored I could always gaze at the nubile bodies walking hither and yon outside
my truck. A day like today offered a lot to gaze at.
    The first hour was uneventful, save for me polishing off
most of my picnic lunch and one-half of my water supply. At ten after twelve,
Curt and one of his cronies emerged, walked down the street to a cheap diner
and returned forty minutes later. The refrigerator at home was probably out of
generic bologna and Wonder bread.
    At three-thirty things began to get interesting. Two
familiar faces came strolling along, Max Brewer, and a fellow named Scotty who
had worked the camcorder at the bachelor party. Funny meeting you guys here.
Getting a little extra-curricular studying in, boys?
    The two re-surfaced an hour later. I put down an article
about HGH use and hopped out of my truck to follow them. They rounded the
corner and as they neared an alley I caught up to them.
    "A minute, fellas?"
    They looked at each other as if to find an answer in the
other's face. No one home.
    "I just want to ask you a couple of
questions."
    Max shook his head. "I answered all of your
questions the other day," he said.
    "Something else has come up," I said.
    "We don't have to talk to you," Scotty said
blankly.
    I stepped forward and gave him a hard shove. "I
don't have to kick your ass either," I said. "But I'm hot and I'm
tired and if you give me the slightest reason I'll mash your fingers and ruin
your career as a cameraman." He looked askance and for a moment I wondered
if he'd call my bluff. Decking someone without cause generally went beyond my
code of values. He looked me over and finally caved in.
    "Okay," he said, his breathing coming in
spurts. "What is it? What do you want?"
    "Who do