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.But I don't think you will.""Look, man, I've heard about every pitch in the world from guys like you.I don't have the time.I don't""What if John Brooks was murdered?"I watched his face for any sign that he might already believe this.There was nothing.He gave nothing away."Your partner," I said."I think he might have been murdered."Washington shook his head."Now, I've heard everything.By who? Who killed him?""By the same person who killed my brother." I stalled a moment and looked at him until I had his full attention."He was a homicide cop.He worked in Denver.He was killed about a month ago.They thought at first it was a suicide, too.I started looking into it and I ended up here.I'm a reporter but this isn't really about that.It's about my brother.And it's about your partner."Washington creased his brow into a dark V and just stared at me for a long moment.I waited him out.He was at the cliff.He either went over with me or he threw me out.He broke the stare and leaned back.Out of his inside coat pocket he took a pack of cigarettes and lit one.He pulled a steel trash can over from the corner so he could use it for ashes.I wondered how many times he had heard people tell him that smoking would stunt his growth.He cocked his head when he exhaled so that the blue smoke went up and hovered against the ceiling.He leaned forward across the table."I don't know if you are some nut or not.Let me see some ID."We were going over the cliff.I took out my wallet and gave him my driver's license, press card.and DPD police pass.He eyed them all closely but I knew he had already decided to listen to the story.There was something about Brook's death that made Washington want to listen to a story from a reporter he didn't even know."Okay," he said as he handed the IDs back."So you're legit.It still doesn't mean I have to believe a word you say."No.But I think you believe it already.""Look, you going to tell your story or not? Don't you think if there was something not right that I'd be on the fucking thing like.like-What do you know about it, anyway?""Not much.Just what was in the papers."Washington stubbed the cigarette out on the side of the trash can and then dropped the butt in."Hey, Jack, tell your story.Otherwise, do me a big favor and just get the fuck out of here."I didn't need my notes.I told the story with every detail because I knew each one of them.It took a half hour during which Washington smoked two more cigarettes but never asked a question.Each time he kept the cigarette in his mouth, so the smoke curled up and hid his eyes.But I knew.Just like with Wexler.I was confirming something that he had felt inside his guts ad] along."You want Wexler's number?" I asked at the end."He'll tell you everything I just said is legit.""No, I'll get it if I need it.""You have any questions?""No, not at the moment."He just stared at me."Then what's next?""I'm going to check this out.Where you going to be?""The Hyatt down by the river.""Okay, I'll call you.""Detective Washington, that's not good enough.""How do you mean?""I mean, I came here to get information, not just to give it and then go back to my room.I want to ask you about Brooks.""Look, kid, we didn't have any kind of deal like that.You came here, you told the story.There was no-""Look, don't patronize me by calling me 'kid' like I'm some kind of hick from the sticks.I've given you something and I want something back.That's why I came.""I don't have anything for you now, Jack.""That's bullshit.You can sit there and lie, Larry Legs, but I know you've got something.I need it.""What, to make a big story that'll bring the rest of the jackals like you out?"I was the one who leaned forward this time."I told you, this isn't about a story." I leaned back and we both looked at each other.I wanted a cigarette but didn't have any and I didn't want to ask him for one.The silence was punctuated when one of the detectives I had seen in the homicide room opened the door and looked in."Everything okay?" he asked."Get the fuck out of here, Rezzo," Washington said.After the door was closed, he said, "Nosy prick.You know what they're thinking, don't you? They're thinking maybe you're in here coppin' to doing' the kid.It's the year anniversary, you know.Weird things happen.Wait till they hear this story."I thought of the photo of the boy in my pocket."I went by there on the way over," I said."There's flowers.""They're always there," Washington said."The family goes by there all the time."I nodded and for the first time felt guilty about taking the photo.I didn't say anything.I just waited for Washington.He seemed to ease up some.His face became softer, relaxed."Look, Jack, I gotta do some checking.And some thinking.If I tell you I'll call you, I'm gonna call you.Go back to the hotel, get a massage, whatever.I'll call you one way or the other in a couple hours."I nodded reluctantly and he stood up.He held his arm across the table, his right hand out.I shook it."Pretty good work.For a reporter, I mean."I picked up my computer and left.The squad room was more crowded now and a lot of them watched me go.I guess I had been in there long enough for them to know I wasn't a crackpot.Outside it was colder and the snow was beginning to come down hard.It took me fifteen minutes to flag down a cab.On the ride back I asked the driver to swing by Wisconsin and Clark and I jumped out and ran across the snow to the tree.I put the photo of Bobby Smathers back where I'd found it.arry Legs kept me twisting in the wind the rest of the afternoon.At five I tried calling him but couldn't locate him at Area Three or Eleven-Twenty-One, as the department's headquarters was known.The secretary in the homicide office refused to disclose his whereabouts or to page him.At six I was resigned to being blown off when there was a knock on my door.It was him."Hey, Jack," he said without stepping in."Let's take a ride
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