Chapter Five
“God, I hate this f*****g case.” Boyko was behind the wheel of his old Caprice, dodging bicycles and skateboarders on the way to the City Morgue. “Four months from retirement and they drop this motherfucker on my desk.”
Taz sat in the passenger seat and tried to tune him out.
“Why couldn’t I draw a nice domestic homicide: You know, guy catches his wife in bed with the paperboy. Bam! Bam! Two dead, cut and dried. The guy confesses. That’s how I wanted to go out. Not this chicken shit.”
“You gonna smoke that?” Taz saw him go for his cigarettes.
“My car...”
Taz watched him put his thumb on the dashboard cigarette lighter and lowered her window. “Remind me. Next time, I take a bus.”
He chuckled and lit up. “I grant you, it’s a disgusting habit.” And in deference to Taz, he
