happened to having guts? He grabbed the receiver, flipped through his Rolodex, and
dialed.
“Chief Hammer’s office,” a man answered.
Brazil cleared his throat.
“Andy Brazil with the Observer,” he said in a remarkably steady voice.
“I wonder if I might have a word with her.”
“And this is in regard to what?”
Brazil was not about to be scared off the case. It was too late. There was no place to run,
really.
“I’m returning her phone call,” he bravely said, as if it were perfectly normal for the chief to call him and for him to get back to her.
Captain Horgess was thrown off. What did Hammer do? Dial this reporter’s number
herself? Horgess hated it when she did that instead of placing all calls through him.
Damn it. He couldn’t keep track of that woman. She was out of control. Horgess
punched the hold button without bothering to tell Brazil. Two seconds later. Hammer’s
voice was on the line, shocking Brazil.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” he quickly said to her.
“That’s quite all right. What can I help you with?” she replied.
“Oh, not a thing. I mean this isn’t about a story. I just wanted to thank you for what you did.”
Hammer was quiet. Since when did reporters thank her for anything?
Brazil interpreted the silence wrongly. Oh God, now she really thought he was stupid.
“Well, I won’t take up your time.” He was talking faster and faster, thoroughly
decompensating.
“Uh, I, well. It’s just that it was a big thing to do. I thought so. When you didn’t have to.
Someone in your position, I mean. Most wouldn’t. ”
Hammer smiled, drumming her nails on a stack of paperwork. She needed a manicure.
“I’ll see you around the department,” she told him, and her heart was pricked as she hung up.
She had two sons and they hurt her on a regular basis. This did not prevent her from
calling them every Sunday night, or setting up a college trust for the grand babies and
offering to send plane tickets whenever a visit was possible. Hammer’s sons did not have
her drive, and she secretly blamed this on the bad genetic wiring of their father, who was
all egg white and no yolk, in truth. No bloody wonder it had always required so many
tries for Hammer to get pregnant. As it turned out, Seth’s sperm count could be done on
one hand. Randy and Jude were single, with families. They were still finding themselves
in Venice Beach and Greenwich Village. Randy wanted to be an actor. Jude played
drums in a band. Both of them were waiters. Hammer adored them.
Seth did not, and this was directly related to how seldom they came to town and why
their mother ached in private.
The chief was suddenly depressed. She felt as if she might be coming down with
something. She buzzed Captain Horgess.
“What do I have scheduled for lunch?” she asked.
“Councilman Snider,” came the reply.
“Cancel him and get West on the phone,” she said.
“Tell her to meet me in my office at noon.”
y The Presto Grill was an acronym for Peppy ^ Rapid Efficient Service Tops Overall, and was r not in a good part of town. Every cop in the greater Charlotte-Mecklenburg area
knew that Hammer and West ate breakfast at the Presto every Friday morning This was
monitored far more closely than the cops supposed either woman knew, for there wasn’t
an officer interested in survival who would take even the slimmest chance that something
bad might happen to the chief or deputy chief on his beat.
The small grill looked as it had in the forties, when it was built. It was on West Trade
Street and surrounded by eroded parking lots, just down from the Mount Moriah
Primitive Baptist Church. Hammer preferred walking from headquarters when the
weather was nice, as it was this day. West never walked when she could ride, but it was
not her call.
“Nice suit,” Hammer said to West, who had opted to give her uniform a day off and was
dressed in a red blouse, and a bright blue pants suit.