Page 54 of Blood Moon

What ate at him was the probability that others also viewed him as a laughingstock. Subordinates who’d watched from the open doorway of his office as Bowie had unleashed his wrath were probably laughing up their sleeves and secretly high-fiving Bowie.

“Honey?”

“Go away.”

“It’s Frank Gray.”

“Tell him I’ll call him back.”

“He’s at the front door.”

Tom pried open his swollen eyes. “Send him in.”

The ogre tramped into the bedroom, took one look at Tom, and bellowed, “Christ on a cross.”

“Mr. Gray, please, your language,” Mrs. Barker whispered. “The children.”

“Sorry.”

“Get out,” Tom said to her. “Close the door.” She did as ordered.

Frank sat down in a rocking chair. Its joints groaned inprotest. Smacking his chewing gum, he ran his ham-sized hands over the smooth arms of the chair. “Nice finish. Is it an antique?”

Never minding the children, Tom spat out a string of obscenities. “Antique? Who knows? Who cares? I want to know what’s happening!”

“Nothing. Bowie’s still there at the hotel. Has been all afternoon.”

“With her?”

“Duh. You owe my surveillance guy twenty bucks. He had to bribe the desk clerk. She hasn’t checked out. But even for fifty, he wouldn’t give out her room number.”

“You’re sure your guy followed the right car?”

“Hell yeah, I’m sure. He saw Bowie entering the lobby. Satisfied?”

“All right. I meant no offense. I feel like crap, is all.”

The ogre rocked back in the chair and planted his large feet on the floor to keep himself reclined. “You know, Tom, Bowie isn’t without admirers in our division. In fact, throughout the whole department. They don’t let on, because they don’t want to cross you and be subjected to the treatment he is. But they’re there.”

“You think I don’t know that? Are you trying to make a point here, Frank? If so, get to it.”

“Fine. I think Bowie added members to his cheering section today. Other detectives have asked for you to assign him to help them with tough cases. You’ve denied those requests and have kept him doing housecleaning and other chickenshit chores. He’s been wasted. In trying to bring him low, you’re the one who looks bad.”

In so many words, Bowie had said the same thing during their standoff yesterday morning. Hearing it again from an ally made him want to grind his teeth. But that made his nose throb. “Are you joining Bowie’s rah-rahs, Frank? Is that what this visit is about?”

“No, hell no. I despise the asshole. Just think of me as a little birdie in your ear whispering a warning. After today, when practically everyone who answers to you heard Bowie’s ugly accusations, the tide may turn. There may be more rumblings in the ranks.”

“I can squelch rumblings.”

“Sure, sure. But if the men upstairs in the carpeted offices get wind of them, and word leaks into city hall, etcetera, somebody may start examining your methods with the thoroughness of a proctologist. In which case, you’ll need all the friends you can get.” He let that settle, then smiled. “I came to tell you, you can count on me. I’ll always be at your back, on your side, Tom.”

“I know that. Don’t think I don’t—”

“Unless…” The ogre moved his feet, and the chair rocked forward so far that he was leaning over Tom. “Unless the heat around you gets too hot. And you start thinking—See, Tom, I know how your mind works.

“And you start thinking that you need a fall guy, someone to blame for your…” His meaty hand drew a spiral in the air. “Malpractice, mishandling… mismanagement… mis…” The hand stopped spiraling and landed like an anvil on Tom’s thigh. “Let’s call a spade a spade. Your misdeeds.”

Tom swallowed hard. The ogre smacked his chewing gum, then lifted his hand away from Tom’s leg and hauled himself out of the rocking chair. “Have a good night.”