The Sable rolled into a parking space behind the 8th Precinct. Aames and Kazad exited and made their way through the double doors and along the hall to the staircase leading up to the squad room. Aames collapsed into his chair and sifted through a handful of pink message slips scattered over his desk while Kazad filled his mug with stale coffee, then held the pot up toward Aames.
“How can you drink that motor oil?” Aames then watched Kazad spoon heaping mounds of sugar and dry creamer into his cup. “Never mind.”
Kazad continued stirring as he took a spot on the corner of his partner’s desk. “Anything important? he asked, gesturing to the messages.
“Not really. But I should return a couple of these calls. One is from Zeahna. Probably ready to give back her engagement ring.”
“Nah. But you need to make that call first. In fact, always make that call first.”
“Spoken like a man who knows.”
Kazad offered a sad smile and changed the subject. “I’ll give you some privacy. While you’re groveling and begging, I’ll go talk with Bill Parnelle at Internal Affairs. He might have some insight on the shooting.”
“You sure you don’t want me to tag along?
Kazad took a sip and shook his head. “It might spook him. I’ll try being cozy. If that doesn’t work, I’ll press him and see what happens.”
[Read More HERE:]