“Damn it James,” the police chief said to me at City Hall. “You’re a murderous bastard, but you get results. The rifle in Charles Krauthammer’s exploded car matches the ballistics in LP Anderson’s killing perfectly. Well done.”
“Thank you sir.”
“Good job James,” Officer Maxwell said. I nodded back.
“The mayor will be pleased with this despite the property damage done to the city of Long Beach,” the Chief continued. “Please turn in your badge. Your work here is done.”
I took out my badge and looked at it. “I’d still like to clear out a few of the suspects before this case is closed,” I told the Chief. “I want to be certain that the same shooter that killed LP is also our serial killer.”
Maxwell spoke up. “Our department has conclusively determined that Charles Krauthammer is our killer.”
“You did an excellent job here James,” the Chief said. “No need to second guess yourself. You’re one hell of a detective.”
I handed over the badge.
“Gentlemen,” I said. “It’s been an honor serving the Los Angeles Police Department.”
I returned to my office.
“Is there anything I can do for you James,” Izzy asked. “Coffee, sandwich, drink, hand job? Please let me do something for you.”
“I just want to be left alone for awhile,” I replied.
I shut the door to the office, closed the blinds, and pulled out a bottle of bourbon…the last one LP and me shared. I poured a glass and raised a toast.
“So long LP,” I said.
Seconds later there was a knock on the door.
“Office hours are closed,” I shouted.
The door opened and our Mystery Officer, the one I threatened to shoot at City Hall while shittin and pissin, came in. He sat down and put his feet on the desk.
“You think you’re so smart don’t ya,” he asked.
“Charles Krauthammer is dead and you can play the hero.”
“What are you on about?”
Officer Mystery sat up in his seat and leaned in. “There’s a lot more to this story than you can possibly imagine.”
I took out another glass and poured him a bourbon. “Talk,” I said.
“Your friends at City Hall, you did them a favor by killing Charles. You did their dirty work. You covered their tracks.”
“Charles was a patsy. Sure he killed your boy LP, but he’s just one man. You and me both know that crime in this city runs deep. Those prostitutes up in the hills? That’s the work of someone else…or someones.”
“Stop jackin me around. Spit it out. Who’s behind this?”
“Officer Ellis Shitburg Maxwell.”