The District Attorney's office was a circus of secretaries and young lawyers, all frantically trying to fight the cause of justice while trying to make a name for themselves for a jump to politics. It had the feel of a newspaper trying to make a deadline but the deadline never came. The place was always filled with ringing phones, hustling couriers exchanging files, consulting attorneys making plans, waiting witnesses mentally rehearsing what to say in their upcoming depositions. I could have sent my file over by messenger, but for obvious reasons, I felt a little more comfortable keeping it in my own little hands.
"Can I help, Lieutenant MacKenzie," asked one of the few faces there I recognized, a legal assistant who once worked as a meter maid out of our precinct.
"Yes. I'm suppose to deliver a file to Assistant DA Williams."
"Yes, Lieutenant. Third office on the left. Yes, that way. Say hi to the guys down at the 23rd for me."
"Will do. Third office on the left."
It has always been this way, police officers and attorneys are not all that comfy with each other. You'd think fighting crime would make them blood brothers, but they just tend to be different breeds. We go through life assuming guilt; they go through life trying to prove it.
"Hey, Ian." That voice brought instant relief to my anxiety.
"Tony." Calabrese had grabbed me by the elbow and was pulling me into what appeared to be the break room for the office.
"Hey, MacKenzie, what rings down here? Do we have you making a deposition or are we coaching you up for a trial so you don't blow another open and shut case for us?"
"No, Tony. Just delivering a file."
Calabrese was shaking his head, "Look we pay young lads good money to run those things back and forth." Then he must have caught sight of something on my face, for he then added, "What's up, Ian?"
I showed him the jacket for the case file. That started him down the right track. "Does this have anything to do what Scarborough wants to talk to me about this afternoon?"
"Maybe, Tony. But I know it also involves Captain Galloway."
"Man. Galloway and O'Hara. Do you think Scarborough's got the stuff?"
"Tony, I know he has the stuff, in writing, and I am guessing there is plenty more to come."
"Mac, you let me get together with Scarborough today and I'll call you tonight. And you just read water for awhile. Don't kick anything over before I can see what we've got. D*mn, O'Hara AND Galloway! I love you guys."
"We'll see, Tony. You best not leave us out there swinging on this one."
"Ian, trust me, buddy. It's my rear too."
Two secretaries gabbing away burst into the room, taking over the place. Tony took off one way and I, the other. And my gut was grinding, big time.