Death in Diamonds Chapter 13

“Well, that was fun,” Lyons said, when we got into the Jeep.
“No, it wasn’t.” I hate it when the bad guys won’t talk and we have to use extreme methods of interrogation to secure the information we want.”
“You mean like we didn’t use in the Gulf?” Lyons asked.
“Like that,” I said.
“Yeah, but we’re good at it.”
“Too good,” I said. “Let’s check out Logan Circle. Logan Circle was another one of the city’s Civil War defenses. We parked at a fire plug and spent an hour walking around the circle. We split up; Lyons heading around the circle clockwise and I counter clockwise. We passed each other twice in a single revolution around the circle. After a few trips around, I sat on a bench and watched the people go past. After about a half an hour I called Lyons even though we were about a hundred feet away.
“I didn’t see anyone matching Ramirez,” I said.
“I don’t see him either,” Lyons said.
“Maybe he’s sleeping in this morning,” I said.
“Maybe.”
“Lets give it another hour or so.” We hung around the circle for over three more hours. No Ramirez. We decided to call it a day. We drove to Timothy’s Pub for a burger and a brew.
We sat at the bar and ordered a draft National Bohemian. I called Bob Murdoch.
“Bob, Jake Curtis here,” I said when he answered the phone.
“Whadda you want now?” Murdoch asked.
“I just want to buy you a beer.”
“A beer? You want to buy me a beer? I don’t believe it. Did you win the lottery or something?”
“Yeah. You know where Timothy’s Pub is?”
“No.” I told him. “Meet me here when your shift ends.”
“See ya there,” Murdoch said. I could hear the wonder in his voice as he broke the connection.
“Bob?” Lyons asked.
“Bob Murdoch, Detective Lieutenant MPDC. He’ll be joining us shortly.”
“A cop?”
“Yeah, a cop. He’s one of the good guys. Do you know him?” I asked.
“No.”

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