Tracking Shot by Colin Campbell (i can read book club .txt) 📗

“What the fuck? Who said you could go around viewing CCTV?”

McNulty looked at the detective. “There’s no law says I can’t.”

Harris slapped the table. A draught blew his papers across the tabletop. “It’s not a good idea if the police are already looking at you.”

McNulty rested a hand on the table and drummed his fingers. Twice. Then he stopped. He sensed that Harris was a good detective. He was thorough, calm and attentive. But he wasn’t following the guidelines. The interview wasn’t structured to get McNulty to account for his day. Where he was. What he was doing. Why he was doing it. The interview wasn’t even being recorded. That told him there was some wriggle room here.

“I wanted to see who I was chasing.”

Harris straightened his papers. “Meaning you didn’t get a good look at his face.”

McNulty shrugged. “I doubt the cop coming up the stairs got a good look, either. It was too quick.”

Harris rested his hand on the folder. “Before you both went over the balcony.”

McNulty nodded. “So I checked the CCTV.”

Harris took a deep breath. “And you still couldn’t tell.”

“I could tell it wasn’t Randy Severino.”

Harris tapped the folder. “Not if you couldn’t make out the face.”

McNulty shook his head. “If it’s a stranger—someone you’ve never seen before—the camera’s too far away. But someone you know? You’d recognise them within a split-second from a thousand feet. It wasn’t Randy Severino.”

He didn’t mention the red van. He didn’t want to muddy the water. The cops would view the recording and draw their own conclusions. McNulty didn’t want them suspecting him of anything else. Harris looked at the folder then back at McNulty.

“Let me make it clear how much shit you’re in.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “We’ve got four dead. One more injured. All at an orphanage you’ve got a vested interest in and a movie company you work for. You’re the last person to see a camera, in situ, that contained film that could embarrass both. This case is focusing on that film now. That is my prime directive. And you searched the film guy’s room and turned up by the river when he turned up dead.”

He held up his hands. “Stop me when any of this sounds incriminating.”

McNulty paused before speaking. “If it was incriminating, I’d be in handcuffs and you’d be recording this.”

Harris hardened his stare. “Don’t go thinking either of those things can’t happen.”

McNulty knew that if he were a serious suspect he’d be talking to his lawyer right now. He kept his tone calm and even. “If I’ve got the film why search his room?”

Harris lowered his voice. “Who said I think you’ve got the film?”

McNulty uncrossed his legs. “That’s what you made it sound like.”

Harris linked his fingers and flexed them until they cracked. “You were a cop. Don’t get inflection mixed up with accusation.” He relaxed in his seat. “Word on the street is your camera guy was offering to sell the film. TV news. Papers. Whoever was interested. Main person who’d be interested is the guy on the film.” He leaned back. “The shooter.” Then he folded his arms. “Or the guy trying to protect the movie company and the orphanage.”

McNulty let out a sigh and repeated an old mantra. “I don’t help orphanages.”

Harris sat still. “But you do work for Larry Unger.” Very still. “Did you know he was about to be called as a witness in the porn trial?”

The room went quiet. All kinds of thoughts raced through McNulty’s head. There were all sorts of calculations to be made but this wasn’t the time to make them. Harris gave McNulty just enough time to swallow that piece of information then hit him with another.

“There’s a rumor that somebody’s selling CCTV footage of the shooting.” He leaned forward. “And it certainly isn’t Randy Severino.”

EIGHTEEN

McNulty leaned on the balcony rail and looked at the river flowing past the rear of the Crescent Motel. The water was a cold black ribbon lit only by reflections from the streetlamps and traffic signals across the bridge. It was just after twelve o’clock. Midnight plus one. He remembered back in the police how much confusion midnight could cause. The legal system hadn’t worked out a way to cope with the twenty-four-hour clock used in police reports. There was no such thing as twenty-four-hundred hours. At that point the clock reset to 0000hrs. Detention records didn’t like that, so you always made the arrest at 23.59hrs or 00.01hrs. Midnight plus one.

Knocking on Larry’s door, it didn’t matter what time it was.

“What the fuck time you call this?” Except maybe it did.

“I always take a shower at midnight.” Larry spoke through the steam and the hiss from behind the shower curtain. He’d answered the door with a towel around his waist and if that wasn’t surreal enough he got back into the shower as soon as he’d let McNulty in. McNulty stood in the bathroom doorway feeling like he was having an out-of-body experience.

“Aren’t you scared you might turn into a pumpkin?”

Larry chuckled. “I stayed in too long once. Looked like a prune except all pink.”

McNulty tried to prevent that picture settling in his head. “Well, don’t forget to wash behind your ears.”

Washing and gurgling noises came from the shower. “I wash everywhere. That’s why I’m fresh and awake in the morning.”

McNulty covered his eyes. “Too much information. Can you hurry it up?”

Larry spoke through the curtain. “Never compromise. Never surrender.”

McNulty raised his voice above the hissing water. “What about all that, God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference?”

Larry stuck his head out of the curtain. “If you prefer a different shower go visit Amy. She’s worried about you.”

McNulty lowered his hands. “About my personal hygiene?”

Larry wiped his forehead to