He closed the door and the Venetian blinds that covered the glass. Then, against department regulations, locked it.Back at his desk, he pulled a bottle of Seagrams 7 from the bottom right-hand drawer, set it out on his desk. Pouring a shot into a clear drinking glass he pulled back a quick shot, stifling the throat burning urge to choke. Lighting a cigarette, he poured another shot, but this time allowed it to sit out on the desk and breathe.That’s when his intercom buzzed.Picking up the extension, he pressed it to his ear.“Sorry to bother you, Lieutenant Cain,” the switchboard operator said. “But there’s a guy on line one with a funny voice. Says his name is Joseph. That you guys are old friends.”Cain let out a smoke-filled sigh.“You want me to get rid of him for you, Lieutenant?”“No, Emily, I’ll take it.”Reaching out with his right hand, cigarette set between tar-stained fingers, Cain ambivalently punched the number “1” on the panel.“Cain,” he groused.“If this man you call Divine should get away and start shooting off his focking mouth, you will have much trouble, yes?”The lieutenant, soon to be acting Captain of the S.P.D., found himself swallowing something that felt like a brick.“I understand,”
