Читать книгу The Vultures - Mark Hannon - Страница 20

15.

Pat kicked the Barca lounge chair’s footrest out and laid back. “Tonight,” the announcer said, “the ABC Movie of the Week features Darren McGavin in ‘Challenge.’” Hmm, he’s usually pretty good, I wonder what this is about, he thought.

“Darren McGavin stars as a veteran soldier sent to a jungle island to fight an enemy commando...” Nope, don’t need to watch any fighting in the jungle... I hope Rory’s sleeping ok... what else is on? Columbo’s on Channel 2. Ahhn, phony cop show. A lieutenant who solves crimes in LA by himself. Hell, a Lieutenant spends all his time trying to get his guys to show up on time and do their job.

Pat jumped up as the phone rang. “I got it,” he said, even though no one else was home. Rita was at a meeting over at St. Joes and Tommy...

“17th Precinct, Lieutenant Bro...”

The laughter that came over the line could only be Marty Meegan’s.

“Take the harness off already, Pat, your first retirement check should be rolling in any day now.”

“Jesus, Meegs, I wonder how long it’s going to be until I break that habit.”

“I give it six months. By that time, the guys at the County will have you broke in with your new title, Mr. Special Investigator. Hey, the reason I’m calling is there’s this guy, a doctor out in Amherst who’s been by the range and is interested in shooting. He belongs to the Northtowns Rod and Gun Club and wants a real combat shooter to help him. I mentioned your name, told him what a dead-eye shot you were, ex-Army, had a couple of shooting incidents on the job, like that. He seems a good guy, young fella, knows a lot about guns.”

“He’s not some kind of cowboy gun nut, is he? Wants to hang out with the police, get into a shootout in a liquor store or something?”

“Nah, he seems all right to me. Just interested in shooting at targets. Who knows, he may pay you for lessons, pal, buy your ammunition for you or something. I’d give him a call at least, see what’s up.”

Pat wondered what kind of doctor he was. Maybe he could help... “Ok, Meegs, gimme his number. I’ll give him a holler and see what he’s about.”

“Yeah, good, Pat. Like I said, he came down to the range a couple of times to watch. I talked to him, he seems ok. Number’s 836-8941. Lives out in Eggertsville.”

Pat wrote the number down. “What’s his name there Meegs? I gotta have that, too.”

“Oh, yeah. His name’s Kraft. Dr. Charles Kraft.”

“Ok, Meegs, I’ll give him a holler. Anything else going on?”

“Well, it looks like Beasom’s going to get the job at the 6th.”

“Beasom! That eejit couldn’t tie his own shoes! How’d he get through the Captain’s test?”

“Weeelll, it seems there was this study group put together that included some of the Commissioner’s softball team...”

“Ahhhgh. Now you’re making me glad I retired.”

“That part’ll never change, partner,” Meegan said, laughing. “Forget all that shit and have some fun teaching the good doctor to shoot, Pat. I’ll talk to you later,” and he hung up, still laughing.

Beasom, he thought. When I was in a car with him, hmm, had to be around 1949, ‘50? He’d disappear ‘to put away some equipment’ and I’d have to write all the reports because they got kicked back when he did them, the dummy. Now he’s going to be a captain in the busiest precinct in the city. Ah, hell, he thought, glancing at a slouching Peter Falk on the TV, let me give this doctor a call, see what he’s like.

Pat dialed the number, and, after one ring, a teenage voice answered, “Kraft residence, Donald speaking.”

“Yes, may I speak to Dr. Kraft please?”

“Yes, I’ll get him. DAD! The phone’s for you...”

“Thanks, Donnie. Hello, Dr. Kraft speaking.”

“Dr. Kraft, this is Lieu...Pat Brogan. Lt. Meegan from the police department asked me to call you, said you were interested in doing some shooting.”

“Oh yes, Mr. Brogan, I’m glad you called. Lt. Meegan said you were the man to see about combat shooting. Would you be interested in going as my guest to the club and giving me a few pointers?”

“Well, yeah, I think I could do that. How much experience do you have with firearms, Doctor?”

“Well, growing up in Machias, I did a lot of target shooting and hunting as a boy, but I’ve never had much experience with handguns.”

Good, Pat thought. A country boy, been around guns before and not some nut job. Sounds young. “Ok, Doctor...”

“Call me Charlie...”

“Ok, Charlie, I’m Pat, by the way. So, do you have any handguns of your own?”

“I’ve got a .45 automatic that was my dad’s in the Army, and a state police issue .38 Special.”

“Interesting. How’d you come by the state police weapon?”

“It was given to me by a state trooper out of the Batavia Barracks after I operated on him in the ER.”

“Huh. When was that, doc?”

“Four years ago, in the summertime.”

“Trooper Van Dyke?”

“Yes, it was.”

Brogan remembered. Phil Van Dyke got into a confrontation with a Road Vulture way out on 33 in Corfu, and the biker pulled a gun. The biker died, but Phil laid there a long time before anyone came by and found him.

“Phil finally came back to work two years ago. He was lucky to be alive.”

“He’d lost a lot of blood when they got him to us. You guys lined up to give. I think we went through...ninety-six pints before it was all over.”

There was a pause, then Pat said, “Yeah, but he made it. Anyway, are those the weapons you want to shoot with?”

“Yes, yes, I would. I’ll bring ammunition for them, of course. I’d like your advice on their cleaning and care, Pat, especially as they’re both gifts. Will you be bringing any guns?”

They’re weapons, not guns, Pat thought, this guy’s never been in the service. “Yeah, I’ll be bringing my service weapon, a .38 Smith and Wesson snub nose. I can always use the practice.”