3
“You have to be shitting me with this, boss!” Harry Red Wing was cut from a heroic mould, complete with V-shaped torso, chiselled and tanned features and long black hair, the genetic legacy of pure-blood Navajo stock, or so he claimed. He was competent enough but I’d always found him way too jealous of his status and performance stats. Plus he was kind of a bigot when it came to the spliced, especially the vampiric variety.
“Some leecher walks in here with a crackpot theory and we’re actually giving it credence.”
“I’m giving it credence,” I said. “You don’t have to do s**t, Harry boy. I’ll even let you put your name on it when I solve the case for you.”
“Oh, f**k you, Alex! I’ve cleared twice the homicides you ever did.”
“You had four times as many open and shuts, so I’d say your sc
