Chapter Twelve
Tommy shook herself, gathered her wits. “Dispatch called. Wanted me to check with you... see if you needed anything. Some help.”
“Ah-h-h those a-holes. They think I need crowd control down here?” He caught himself, “No offense Tommy, but Christ, it's been forty years. You’d think they’d know I can handle a simple homicide.”
“Yeah, sure Beng. I understand but I’m just doing what I’m told, you know?” Her mind was still reeling but somehow she was managing the deception. Tommy took another deep breath, “What yah got, anyway?”
“Ah, a young kid, male. Looks like he took a couple of .41 mags in the stomach. It ain’t pretty. Guts everywhere. Took him a long time to die. His parents found him in the john.”
“A what?”
“Yeah. A .41 caliber. Don't see it much; made by Remington.
