Wunney 1 Wunney You always remember the guy who brings bad news. In this case it was a detective from the Detroit Police Department’s special operations. Mulheisen knew the guy, L. E. Wunney. They had worked together in Homicide. That was a long time ago now. Mulheisen had long since returned to the Ninth Precinct, his old stomping grounds. But he remembered L. E. Wunney, the guy now standing at Mulheisen’s door with his raincoat open and his hands hanging at his side, seemingly at ease. Mulheisen didn’t recognize Wunney immediately . . . or, rather, he recognized him first for what he was, not who he was. This is a cop. That’s what was written all over Wunney. And even for Mulheisen recognition was followed by, What did I do wrong? Wunney could affect one like that, even an old cop like Mulheisen (older than Wunney, for sure, and one of the city’s ranking detectives, in terms of seniority, anyway. If he was still just a sergeant, it was only because he had managed to wriggle out of taking the test for lieutenant).
