Sex and Murder.com: A Paul Turner Mystery by Mark Richard Zubro

up for me. How will it look if you won’t defend one of your own?”
    “Is that a threat?” Turner asked. “You want me to help you out and if I don’t, you’re going to spread it around that I wouldn’t back you up? You’re not stupid, Dwayne, at least I never thought you were, but you’ve gone too far.” He turned to go back to the basement.
    “Wait,” Smythe said. “Please, don’t go in. I’m sorry.” Turner paused. He realized the man was shivering almost uncontrollably. Smythe was well bundled up in his heavy coat. It wasn’t the cold that had brought Smythe to this pitiable state.
    Turner said, “You think that was a good way to get me to go out on a limb for you?”
    “I’m scared. I’ve always wanted to be a detective. I didn’t break any department regulations. In the Haggerty case they were accused of breaking over thirty of them. I’m not.”
    Smythe was referring to a case in which three officers were fired by the police board, and another suspended. “I’ve got a chance. Maybe I won’t get fired. I’ve always wanted to be a detective. I never meant to hurt the kid.”
    “You screwed up. You don’t even know how to ask for help. You never think before you act. You always push too hard. You’ve made too many mistakes. You should have thought about how to be a good cop before you screwed up the first time.”
    “I did, you know. I thought about the job constantly. I know I sneered at you and Fenwick a lot, but I watched what you guys did. I tried to do things right, the way you did them. It’s probably too late now, but I’ve got to try everything I can think of to save my job. I know you’re reluctant to risk your reputation for me. I shouldn’t have made any kind of threat. I’m sorry.” He drew a deep breath and rubbed his hands together, then sniffed and wiped the back of his glove against his nose. “Look, Paul, I’m desperate. It’s not much of a limb to go out on. You just have to say you’ve worked with me and that I’m a good cop.”
    “But Dwayne, I don’t think you’re a good cop. How can I get up and testify?”
    “You really don’t think I do a good job?”
    “Did you falsify those incident reports?”
    “No. I swear to god. I would never do that.”
    Turner had never falsified a report, had never felt a need to. He’d get his arrests honestly or not at all. He knew Fenwick felt the same way. He said, “This would be a poor time to lie to me.”
    “I’m not lying. I swear. Please, you’ve got to help me. You’re the only one I can turn to. That fool Carruthers keeps volunteering to testify. I might as well put a noose around my neck as have him speak. They wouldn’t stop laughing as they booted my ass out. It’s got to be someone who’s respected. People said you’d be willing to help.”
    “Who?”
    “Everybody says you’re a stand-up guy.”
    “No one has any business speaking for me.” Paul wondered about his reputation and his own conscience if he testified on Smythe’s behalf. The cops who knew Smythe would know him for an overly ambitious fool. They’d know Paul was saying as little as possible while trying to keep his integrity intact. Paul was not willing to squander the goodwill of his reputation by speaking dishonestly about Dwayne Smythe. If he lied, people would know Paul had swallowed his real opinion to maintain his solidarity with one of their own. Some of his coworkers would see this as righteous solidarity while others would be delighted to hear that he had compromised himself. Some would see it as him coming down a peg from some unspecified moral high ground. Turner didn’t view himself as a paragon of virtue but at the same time he most certainly intended to be able to live with his conscience. If called upon, he intended to tell the truth. Smythe was putting him in a delicate, but probably not career-threatening, position. Nevertheless, he resented even being asked to do something that forced him to confront a moral