Page 67 of Delusional

Watson frowned and shook his head. He had no comeback. “Where are you taking him?”

Finally a reasonable question. I said, “We’ll book him at the 48th Precinct. Not too far from here, over on—”

“I know where the 48th Precinct is. I’m a business owner in the Bronx. Do you understand what that is? One of the few people who still pays your salary.” He paused for a moment and said, “I’ve already called an attorney.”

“That’s smart. Your stepson will need one.”

We started walking Barr past him to our car. I still had a firm grip on his right hand in case he began acting up again. Maggie turned to face Watson as we passed. It was a good tactical move. You never know how someone will react when a family member or friend is being arrested. Too many cops have been injured by someone jumping on them at the last minute or pulling a weapon or some other stupid shit.

Barr’s stepfather said, “I suppose you’re the two who upset my wife earlier today.”

It was Maggie who got the last word in. “Your wife’s an asshole.”

I didn’t even try to keep a straight face.

CHAPTER 82

I KNEW IT wouldn’t be hard to book Leonard “Pry” Barr when we walked through the back door of the precinct and a sergeant looked up and said, “Back so soon, Pry? We just had your mom last week.”

Barr snarled at the sergeant, who didn’t pay him any more attention. It was the perfect jab. They had a room in the back where they were able to put him. He was still handcuffed, and they used a shackle that was permanently fastened to the floor around his ankle to keep him in place.

We made sure that he had something to drink and that he wasn’t too badly injured. I suspected that a tough guy like Barr would never admit to being hurt by a small ATF agent like Maggie Chin, but having witnessed their fight, it wouldn’t have surprised me if he had a cracked rib or two.

As I stood at the counter, finishing up the paperwork, a tall woman in uniform with captain’s bars on her shoulders stopped in front of me, looked me up and down, and said, “You look like hell.”

I said, “Thanks, you look good. Promotion agrees with you. Wish I could do it.”

My old friend Captain Sally Douglas laughed. “Don’t give me that crap. You could promote anytime you want. You just like investigations too much.”

“To tell you the truth, after dealing with so many kids, last thing I want to do is come to work to tell other people what to do.”

That made Sally laugh out loud again. “How are those beautiful children?”

“Everyone’s good. What about yours?”

“Lamar got into Howard. Tiran is still hoping for a basketball scholarship. He won’t make it to UConn, but Stony Brook is not out of the question.”

I smiled at my friend’s humor.

Sally asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Booking a prisoner for assault.”

“Why? They’ll be out in a couple of hours.”

“He’s got a history. I think bond might be set high. Mainly, we need a little more time to connect him to a homicide.”

Sally nodded. A door to the lobby buzzed open, and a young female patrol officer led a man in a suit down the hallway.

Sally mumbled, “Oh, crap. Look what crawled in.”

Criminal attorney Robert Heitz was a fixture in upper Manhattan and Bronx criminal cases, known for finding loopholes and turning them into free rides. He looked at me like I was something that needed to be cleaned up and moved out of the building.

“Detective Bennett,” he said, “I see you’re up to your usual. Arresting innocent young men.”

I pointed at the lump above my left eye. “This is Exhibit 1.”

Heitz shook his head. “You never give up, do you? I’m not sure what’s worse: your manipulation of the law or your arrogance in believing that you’re always right.”