“Get out of the car!” he shouted at the two guys. “Keep your hands in the air!”
The men seemed dazed by what had happened. They offered no resistance whatsoever as Erin, Janovich, and Logan laid them against the hood of their truck and frisked them. Firelli and Piekarski had arrived by then, Piekarski having sprinted down the sidewalk. The two of them, plus Rolf, established a perimeter to keep the rubberneckers at a safe distance.
“What’ve we got here?” Logan said, pulling a revolver out of the driver’s waistband.
“That’s for protection,” the driver said.
Erin’s frisk of her guy turned up a nine-millimeter Beretta. “Got another gun here, Sarge,” she said to Logan.
“That’s a whole lotta protection,” Logan said. “What’re you protecting?”
“Nothin,’” the driver said. “Just normal delivery.”
“Then you won’t mind if we take a look,” Logan said.
“You got a warrant?”
“Don’t need a warrant. We got you on a weapons charge already. Gives us plenty of cause to search the vehicle. Janovich, cuff this guy.”
Erin snapped her bracelets on her man. “What’s your name?” she asked him.
He didn’t say anything. Now that he’d recovered a little from his surprise, he just glared at her. He was a youngish man, probably in his early twenties, and definitely looked Italian. She glanced at Firelli.
“Afraid you’re buying,” she said to him.
Firelli shrugged. “That’s okay. Logan got the last one.”
To the accompaniment of increasingly irritated honking of car horns, they finished securing the prisoners and opened the truck’s loading door.
Someone primed by Hollywood images of drug busts would’ve been expecting the whole back of the truck to be full of bags stuffed with white powder. But Erin knew twelve kilograms didn’t take up that much space. What she saw, when the door rolled up into the ceiling of the truck, was boxes of chocolate.
“Candy?” Logan said, looking over Erin’s shoulder.
“Candy,” she agreed. She pulled on a pair of latex gloves and climbed into the truck. She opened the first box she came to, holding it toward Logan. “Hungry?”
He looked at the small baggies of powder inside and grinned. “Starving.”
Chapter 15
“So,” Logan said. “Who gets the collar? SNEU or Major Crimes?”
“You can have it,” Erin said.
They’d moved the truck to the side of Saint James so traffic could get moving again. Now they were standing in the park, looking at about a million dollars’ worth of heroin spread on a wooden bench.
“You sure?” Piekarski asked. “This is a solid bust, good weight, plus the guns. It’s gonna look good on your record.”
Erin shrugged. “It kinda fell into my lap,” she said. “Besides, it may be better if this is a Narcotics op.”
“Protecting a source?” Logan asked, giving her a keen look.
“Something like that.”
“I’m not gonna lie,” he said. “You want to give us this, we’ll take it. Hell, I’ll take a double felony collar with this kind of weight any night of the week. But I gotta have something to put on my DD-5s for the reason for the stop.”
“Okay,” she said, recognizing it wouldn’t be possible to keep Major Crimes entirely out of the paperwork. “We’ve been working a narcotics angle on a dual homicide, connected to the Lucarellis. Say we got a tipoff from one of the Lucarelli sources.”
“Sounds good to me,” Logan said. “It’s obvious you had good intel. I’m a little surprised you didn’t work through Precinct 8.”
“We’re in Precinct 5 territory,” she said. “It’d be rude for the Eightball’s Narcs to roll on your turf.”
Logan nodded, but looked unconvinced. He knew she wasn’t giving him the whole story.
“Hey, Sarge,” Firelli said. “O’Reilly’s giving us this righteous collar, I think she gets an invite to the bar at the end of the shift.”
“What time’s your shift end?” Erin asked.
“Depends,” Janovich said. “You ever work the dog watch?”
“All the time,” she said, scratching Rolf behind the ears.
“Then you know how it goes. Rack up an hour or two of unpaid overtime.”
“Tell you what,” Firelli said. “If you’re up early…”
“Or still awake…” Piekarski added.
“…we’ll be at the Final Countdown at six,” Firelli finished.
“That’s 0600,” Janovich clarified.
“For drinks,” Erin said, deadpan.
“Damn right,” Firelli said. “Not beer, either. We’re talking straight shots.”
“Maybe,” she said. “You guys will be ending your shift. I’ll be starting mine. But what about the liquor laws?”
Piekarski laughed. “It’s more of a club than a bar, that time of morning,” she said. “The barkeep’s a retired cop, runs a special service for officers who work nights. It’s not open to the public.”
“Isn’t that still illegal?” Erin asked.
The SNEU team looked at each other and shrugged.
“If you change your mind, you know where to find us,” Logan said. “And Firelli’s buying the first round, remember.” He offered his hand. “Y’know, it occurs to me, you could just be throwing us this collar to dodge the paperwork.”
“Is it working?” she asked, smiling at him and shaking hands.
“This time,” he said, returning the smile. “Take it easy, O’Reilly.”
* * *
With the prisoners handed over to SNEU and the drugs on the way to Precinct 5’s evidence locker, it was back to the Barley Corner for Erin. She wasn’t sure what to expect. Being honest with herself, she was a little pissed at Carlyle for blindsiding her.
She went in the front door this time. What was the point in sneaking around back? The O’Malleys already knew about her, and Vinnie’s Mafia goons would hardly be hanging out at the Corner. She and Rolf walked right in like they owned the place.
They almost ran into Corky on his way out. With that smooth, astonishing speed he had, the Irishman nimbly sidestepped and touched a finger to his forehead in salute.
“Evening, love,” he said. “If you’re looking for the publican, you’ll find him upstairs.” He lowered his voice a little. “He’s not given you a key, has he?”
Erin smiled thinly. “No, Corky, he hasn’t.”
“I think he’s expecting you,” Corky said. “I’d stay for a chinwag, but we’ve both business to attend to. I’ll be seeing you, love.”
She crossed the main room, trying
