by Brian Shea
“Everything okay?” Kelly now stood by the frustrated officer who held up the blank statement form. The results of his failed attempts.
“I’d really like to go home now.” Muriel Burke had her hands pressed against her hips.
“I think we can arrange for one of the officers to give you a ride.”
“No thanks. I’ll walk.”
“I’m Michael Kelly. I’m the detective who’s been assigned this case.” Kelly put his hand out.
“Muriel.” Her rigid posture loosened at the gesture, and she shook his hand.
“I know you’ve been through a terrible thing tonight. How are you holding up?”
She shrugged.
“Anything I can do for you?”
“You can let me get going.”
“You’re free to leave.” Kelly paused, hoping his intentional avoidance of speaking about the incident and his concern for her well-being had won him some rapport points. “Muriel, before you go, would you be able to tell me anything you can remember about the person who did this?”
She looked around nervously before returning to meet Kelly’s gaze.
“I know you’re scared. But please rest assured, you’re safe.”
“I don’t want my name on any paper saying I said something.”
Kelly looked at the patrolman, who was still holding the clipboard with statement form at the ready. A young officer, and apparently a bit slow on the uptake. Kelly nudged him with his elbow, snapping the junior man from his robotic state of readiness. “I’ve got it from here. Thanks.”
“Sure thing.” The patrolman tucked the clipboard under his arm and took his leave.
“So, what is it? What did you see that may help me?”
“A tattoo.”
“What tattoo?”
“The man had a tattoo on his neck.” She reached up and placed her index finger along the right side her neck, above the collar and behind the ear.
“Anything specific you can remember about it?”
“Two letters—C and B.”
Kelly sighed. It could be somebody’s initials, but his gut was telling him it belonged to a local street gang. They called themselves Corner Boys and were becoming a big problem in the Savin Hill area of Dorchester. Known for stealing cars and selling drugs. And now it looked like they may have added murder to their growing resume.
He understood why the woman was reluctant to make a statement. Everybody knew the potential danger in providing info to the police. Especially in a murder case. The fact the older woman was aware of this told Kelly two things. One, she’s from the neighborhood and knows how things work. And two, she probably knows more than she’s letting on.
“Are you sure you don’t want somebody to escort you home?”
She nodded.
“I’ll be in touch.” The woman turned and began walking away. “Thank you.”
Muriel Burke slipped under the police tape and disappeared from view. Kelly walked back to the entranceway of the store. He knelt down to grab a fresh set of gloves. “Where’s Cliff tonight?”
Mainelli popped his head up from laying a placard near a bit of blood spatter on the counter. “You didn’t hear?”
“I guess not.”
“He screwed up another case. Mis-tagged evidence. Completely botched any chance of prosecuting that murder from Tremont Street a few years back.”
“I thought that one was open and shut.”
“Apparently, everybody did. Until they started pulling evidence and prepping for trial.”
“So—what now?”
“Looks like he’s out. They’re booting him. Told him to pack his crap.”
“Where’s he going?”
Mainelli started to laugh. “That’s the best part. They’re demoting him from Detective and sticking him in evidence.”
“Let me get this straight. He screws up a murder case—more than one, but who’s counting—and then he gets reassigned to organizing evidence for other cases?”
Mainelli shook his head, grinning broadly. “NASA’s not missing any rocket scientists with our bosses.”
The two men laughed.
“Jimmy, did you locate a casing?”
“Nope.” Jimmy was standing near the counter and he made a finger gun pointing it in the area where the clerk had most likely been positioned. “If there had been a casing, the ejection port would have kicked it in that direction.”
Kelly agreed. He walked over to a nearby aisle. Getting down on his hands and knees, Kelly cocked his head to the side and began scanning the floor for any signs of a brass shell casing. Nothing.
“Maybe it was a revolver.”
“Maybe.”
“Actually, I hope that’s the case.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because if we’ve got a shooter who polices his brass, then we might be facing a much more difficult case.” Kelly stood. “Please tell me this place has an internal surveillance camera.”
“No luck. What about the witness? Did she have anything to say?”
“The shooter had a CB tattoo on his neck. I’m going to take a wild guess and say it’s probably the Corner Boys. I’ll check the Gang database. Who knows—maybe we’ll get lucky?”
“Well, at least we’ve got the great Raymond Charles working forensics. If anybody can find us the needle in the haystack, it’ll be him.”
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Acknowledgments
The relationship between writer and editor is the single most important piece in the successful development of a story. And not all editors are equal. I’ve been blessed to have found Randall Klein. He challenges my vision for plot and character, making this story shine. I look forward to our future collaboration as this series builds. Randall, thank you for your patience and insight.
I’m grateful to the team at Severn River Publishing. Your backing of my work has been second to none. And your treatment of me as a writer has been first class. Finding a home within your publishing house has been a turning point in my career as a writer. Andrew, Amber, and Jason, thank you for taking a chance on me and helping me achieve so much.
K.F. Breene, thank you for bopping me over the head and waking me up as to the type of story I needed to tell. Our candid conversations became the blueprint for what has become this book and the series concept. I’m forever indebted to you. The world needs more people like you, who speak their mind and pull no punches. I’m better for it.
To the men and women in law enforcement past, present, and future, your service often goes unpraised. Serving alongside you has been one of the great pleasures of my life. Although my watch has come to an end, I know I’ve left it in good hands. I hope this book does honor the good, bad, and ugly of the world we’ve faced.
Mom, thank you for being a cheerleader for my work. I’m pretty sure you’ve flagged down or darn near tackled every neighbor in your community and forced them to read my books. Your love and support have been amazing in this new chapter of my life and I’m glad you’ve been able to be a part of it.
I’m grateful to the collective of authors who’ve encircled me, guiding and coaching my growth as a writer.
About the Author
Brian Shea has spent most of his adult life in service to his country and local community. He honorably served as an officer in the U.S. Navy. In his civilian life, he reached the rank of Detective and accrued over eleven years of law enforcement experience between Texas and Connecticut. Somewhere in the mix he spent five years as a fifth-grade school teacher. Brian’s myriad of life experience is woven into the tapestry of each character’s design. He resides in New England and is blessed with an amazing wife and three beautiful daughters.
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