Chapter
8
As usual, Parish was last coming into the office. But this time he found Pettiway at his desk with what appeared to be a smile. He was looking though a stack of papers that more than likely had something to do with one of the murder investigations going on.
“I don’t see how you can work until the wee hours of the night investigating a double homicide and still beat me to the office the next morning with, of all things, a smile on your face,” Parish said sourly as he got himself situated at his desk.
“That’s because while you were sleeping the real police was doing the real work,” Pettiway said in a jovial mood as he handed him a sheet of paper.
“What’s this?”
“That, my green detective is our shooter in the MTA case,” Pettiway informed him.
“How you find a shooter?” Parish asked stunned.
“A token booth clerk reported what he thought sounded like a shot fired in a Harlem station. A few minutes after he heard the shot he saw a young man exiting the turnstile stuffing something suspicious inside his pants pocket. I was able to narrow it down, with the help of MTA techies, the time our suspect exited the station. It fits with the time frame of the shooting.
“I had a couple of uniforms canvass the streets, checking the stores in the immediate area for any security cameras that may take in a view of the street and anyone who might be passing by. A camera got a glimpse of a suspect who the token booth clerk identified as the same young man leaving the station. I checked with MTA and they confirmed our victim’s train was in that very station at the exact time when the shot was fired,” Pettiway told him grinning from ear to ear. It was old fashion police work mixed with a little technology. Just the kind of work he loved.
“So what are we waiting for? Let’s go interrogate the punk!” Parish said hyped.
That’s when Pettiway’s smile faded. “We can’t. We haven’t got him in custody yet.” He saw the protest on Parish’s face. “But don’t worry. There’s an APB out on him with his description. We checked some of the cameras in the area and we got an idea on where the suspect lives. At least, an area. Uniforms are out as we speak canvassing the area. Even the Apprehension Unit. We’ll get him. It’s only a matter of time.”
“So we just sit here and wait?” Parish asked frustrated.
“No. While they’re tracing down the shooter we’re taking a ride out to Canarsie.”
“Canarsie? For what?” Parish asked confused. As far as he was concerned they had the shooter’s identity. He’ll soon be in custody. And as far as he’s concerned, the case was essentially over.
“To check out the victim’s godmother. Closing all the doors,” Pettiway told him.
Parish let out a sigh at the thought of a long car ride through New York City traffic. “Let’s get it over with.”
“Okay. Give me a minute to clear it with the captain,” Pettiway said as he gathered up his paperwork.
Last Stop Page 8
