Читать книгу The Vultures - Mark Hannon - Страница 23

18.

Pat was sorting through the boxes on his new desk when District Attorney Daniel Butler strode into the outer office. He was muttering to himself when he picked up the phone messages from the receptionist, dropped a file on one secretary’s desk and then stopped in front of Pat’s desk.

“Patrick. How’s it going so far?”

“Not bad. Got my shooting qualifications taken care of, parking permit and keys to the investigator’s car. Right now, I’m organizing the office stuff.”

“Good, good. We’re busy here, but I’ll try to keep breaking you in easy. Cases that should be pieces of cake for an old pro like yourself – insurance frauds, gathering witnesses’ statements, background checks, matters of that sort. I’ll keep you working a lot with A.D.A. Roth. I believe you and he go back to the pinball investigations under my predecessor Mr. Stone. That will be good, I think the two of you will make a good team. Have you met everyone here in the office?” he said, waving a hand around the room.

“Yes, I’ve met them. Some I knew from my days in the Buffalo Police.”

“Excellent...I was wondering if you might step into my office for a moment.”

“Sure,” he said, putting a dictionary down on the green metal desk.

Pat closed the door and the DA waved him to a chair as he sat down behind the stacks of paper on his desk.

“Pat,” he said. “It’s terrible what happened to your son Rory over in Vietnam. I was told that he’s very badly hurt and will take a long time to recover. I want you to know that if there’s something we can do...”

“I appreciate that,” Pat said, eyes lowered.

“I mean that, Pat. I know you just started here, but if you need time off to visit him...”

“Yeah, I might need that. We’re not sure how he’s doing now, but he’s headed for Walter Reed in Washington...”

“Don’t they keep you updated?”

“It’s the Army, boss. Delayed, incomplete, stiff messages. My wife’s – she’s a nurse – going crazy trying to find out what’s going on, what his condition is, what they’re doing for him...”

Dan Butler nodded and knit his brows. “I might be able to help there. Do you know Max Reilly?”

“The congressman? I know of him.”

“Let me make a phone call to Max. He and I go back to Troop 163 together. Still play handball with him when he’s in town. He should be able to get this straightened out.”

Politician, Pat thought. Campaign contributions required.

As he picked up the phone, Butler caught Pat’s look. “Don’t worry, Max is all right. He always does the right thing by the good people.”