off the case.”
Trent grew rigidly stiff. “I thought you would agree with me, Marlin. I’m disappointed you can’t see the downside of having a loose cannon like Jack Murphy running around out there.”
“I guess I’m not real smart,” Pope said, pretending humility. “But don’t worry, Trent. Jack will play nice with the state investigators. And I’ll remind you—you’re not governor yet. You still have a responsibility to Evansville. Jack’s the best we’ve got and you know it.” Pope didn’t add that the state police investigators didn’t have a tenth of Murphy’s experience and skill.
“You won’t be convinced?” Trent asked, recovering from the shock of someone countermanding what he said.
Marlin read the comment as a threat, knowing Trent would go to the mayor—Pope’s boss—and have him ordered to take Murphy off the case. And the mayor would do just that. But in this case, he would have to refuse.
Pope kept eye contact but didn’t reply, and Trent shook his head. “Well, I guess there’s nothing else to say.”
“I guess not.”
The prosecutor and his men filed out of the room.
Pope stood and took his hat off the credenza. He straightened his uniform and walked into the outer office.
“Jennifer,” he said, “I’m going to the hospital. Need to know, okay.”
That was code for her to tell no one where he was. He was going to the hospital to see Liddell and show respect to Liddell’s wife. If the mayor didn’t like it, well . . . he was tired of being chief of police anyway.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
“Does that mean I can finally go home and get something to eat?” Liddell groused. When his breakfast had come, even Jack thought the portions were small.
The nurse smiled at him and left the room without commenting.
Liddell’s clothing and personal items had been thrown into a large plastic bag with ST. MARY’S HOSPITAL embossed on the side. Marcie began going through the bag, folding his bloody shirt and pants, and then held out his size fourteen triple-E shoes. “Is this is why you call him Bigfoot?”
“It was that or Swamp Thing,” Jack said, glad to see her smile.
“Hey!” Liddell protested. “I’m in the room, you know.”
She stuffed his socks inside the shoes and slid the empty holster from his belt, then suddenly realized: “His gun is missing. So is his wallet and money and keys.”
Jack and Liddell exchanged a knowing look.
“I’m checking into it,” Jack said.
“Checking into what,” said the chief from the doorway.
Marcie went to Pope and bussed his cheek politely. “Thank you for coming, Marlin.”
“I just wanted to come by . . .” Pope began, but seeing the condition Liddell was in, he was at a loss for the right comforting remark.
“Thanks, Chief,” Liddell said. “They’re sending me home. I’m ready to get back to work.”
“I think going home will be up to your doctor,” Pope answered, examining him more closely. “As far as coming back to work—we’ll see.”
“While you’re here, Chief, I was just getting ready to call the captain to see if they found Liddell’s gun. Can we talk in the hall?” Jack asked.
“I want to talk to you, too.” Pope spoke to Liddell for a moment, and assured Marcie they would be protected until this was over. “Walk with me, Jack,” he said, and they left the room.
In the hallway Jack told him about the flash drive.
Pope asked, “Is anything else missing?”
Jack didn’t want to feed into the idea that what happened last night was a mugging, although it did look like a robbery. “His wallet, badge and ID, cash, and his gun, too.”
“It wasn’t a robbery. Someone went to a lot of trouble, and a lot of risk, to get that flash drive.”
Jack couldn’t hide his surprise that the chief was agreeing with him.
Pope said, “Don’t look at me that way. I used to be a detective before I lost my mind and tested for rank.” Then he told Jack about Trent’s announcement that state police investigators were being called in.
“I’ll cooperate with them completely,” Jack lied.
Pope nodded, knowing that Jack would stonewall the state investigators as much as possible. In fact, he was counting on Jack’s insubordination.
“So I’m still on the case?” Jack asked.
“Like your partner is so fond of saying, ‘Does the Pope shit in the woods?’” the chief replied.
Jack looked sheepish. “You know about that, huh?”
“Oh, the things that I know.” Pope grinned and walked away.
As Jack walked back to Liddell’s room, two things occurred to him. First, the chief had said nothing about Marcie shooting at someone last