he started in again on the disappointment and the 'What were you thinking?'
After the first half hour the chew-out started getting pretty old. Bill was feeling the effects of the post-adrenaline rush from the night before, and the constant throb in the shoulder. He had no patience left.
"Chief, I know I made a terrible mistake and now the people of the city think we're out to get them. This will blow over in time, but right now, I've got a criminal that I believe has been killing people, indirectly, including the Manager of the Ports. I can't get into it all right now, but I think this has ties to the mafia. With any luck, we might catch this guy and maybe even obtain some very useful information about the Italian mob. But, I really have to meet with someone right now."
"Have you heard a word I've said?" the Chief yelled. "The Mayor wants your suspension on tomorrow's front page of every newspaper in the city."
"Chief, I will respect your decision. But either way, I'm walking out of your office now to continue my investigation, whether on the city's dime, or on mine. I hope you can respect that." He stood from his chair, his legs stiff from sitting too long, after the night he'd had.
"Roberts. You go about your business, but I want you to lay low. Stay out of trouble, and for God sakes, don't talk to anyone with a camera. And get yourself cleaned up. You look like you've been dragged in by a cat."
"I hope to have something for you by the end of the day," Bill said as he walked to the door. He opened it and stopped. He turned to the Chief and said, "And please tell the Mayor, I'm going to work extra hard on this case for him."
He left the office and closed the door behind him. The Chief's assistant, Anne, had a look of sympathy.
Once the door closed, she asked, "Meeting go okay, Inspector?"
"As expected, Anne," he said, rolling his eyes.
He was struggling to get his phone out of its holder. Every move of his right hand made him wince. Anne noticed him having a hard time and jumped from behind her desk.
"Let me help you with that. You hurt your shoulder?" she asked.
"Thanks," he said as she removed the phone from the holder clipped to his belt. "I must admit, the shoulder's not a hundred percent at the moment."
"You're bleeding!" She pointed to the back of his shoulder. "What exactly is wrong with your shoulder?" she asked.
"Nothing really. I don't have time for this. Do you have a bandage or a First Aid Kit I could use?"
"You should be in the hospital," Anne said. She opened a cupboard and removed a small kit with a red cross on it. She found a package of gauze, opened it and brought it to the Inspector.
He took it and tried to reach around to the back of his shoulder with his other arm. "I can't quite reach. Would you mind putting it under my shirt sleeve so it'll stay in place?"
She gently peeled the back of his T-shirt sleeve away from the wrapped shoulder. "Something must have aggravated your wound. It's bled through the wrapping." She placed the extra gauze over the area where she saw the bright red blood. "You need to have this looked at."
"I can't right now. I have somewhere I have to be. But when I'm done with my meeting, I'll get it checked."
"At the very least, you want to stop the bleeding so you don't wreck that T-shirt," she said looking at the front of it, smirking.
"You're not serious, are you?" he asked.
"No. I'm not," she responded.
He thanked her for the help and left their office. In the hall, he called Cathy for an update. He told her about getting chewed out by the Chief, making his way toward the elevators.
Cathy relayed that she had contacted Mr. Copolla, of the Toronto Port Authority and hadn't gotten anywhere. "He's an ignorant man," she said. "He told me he'd try and get down here, but wasn't sure when. He wouldn't answer any questions about the murder of Mr. Elliott, or of Mr. Garneau a couple of months ago. He said he didn't know any reason why anyone would want to hurt Mr. Elliott, and other than that, he didn't see how he could be of any help. He said he already answered all the questions we had about Mr. Garneau