But he didn’t say a word.
And he didn’t fight.
I was thinking ahead, and I was troubled. All we had on Bergin was “interfering with a police officer,” a charge that called for minimal bail, nothing more than that.
If he could cough up a thousand bucks, he’d be back on the street in half an hour. He’d be in Vancouver by dinnertime, and we’d never see him again.
Conklin read my mind.
“Lou, you saw him. He was resisting arrest.”
My eyebrows shot up. Resisting? The man was lying on the street like a dead tuna.
“He swung at me,” Conklin insisted, rubbing his jaw. “Got in a good one before I wrestled him down. Have to admit, Lou, this gorilla struck a police officer.”
“I wish I hadda struck you, dickhead,” Bergin muttered from the sidewalk. “I woulda broken your jaw.”
“Shut up, please,” Conklin said to Bergin good-naturedly. “I’ll tell you when to speak.”
I understood what Conklin was doing: upping the charge so that the bail bond would rocket.
It wasn’t playing fair, but we were desperate. We needed time to find out if Bergin had killed our Car Girls.
Conklin read Bergin his rights, stuffed him into the backseat of a cruiser just as Jacobi pulled up and offered me a ride to the Hall.
During the drive, I told Jacobi that I couldn’t wait to interrogate Louis Bergin, to get answers, to get a confession, to put a name to his accomplice, to put the Car Girl killers away.
“You okay, Boxer? You sound rattled.”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “I’m thinking, what if Louis Bergin isn’t our guy? What’s next? Because I don’t have another idea in the world.”
Chapter 88
JACOBI AND I WAITED impatiently in my office as Bergin was processed, his mug shots and fingerprints going into the system for the first time.
“You and Conklin should interrogate him,” Jacobi said.
“It’s your case,” I said. “It’s your interview.”
“Let’s see how Conklin handles it, Boxer. I’ll be right behind the glass.”
The hulking Louie Bergin was sitting at the table inside Interview Two. Conklin and I took the seats across from him, and I reviewed the scant information we’d coaxed from the computer.
“Says here you’re a solid citizen,” I said to Bergin. “A good employment history and a nice clean sheet. This shouldn’t take too long.”
“Good. Because as soon as I’m out of here, I’m gonna sue your ass for false arrest. And I’m suing you, for tackling me.”
“Take it easy, Louie. I think you’ve been watching too much Law and Order. Here,” Conklin said, handing Bergin a paper napkin. “You’re a mess.”
Bergin glowered at Conklin as he dabbed at his face, his palms, wadded up the napkin, and held it in his hand.
Conklin said, “So, Louie, explain to me and the lieutenant. Why’d you run?”
“I run every day. It’s exercise, ya little dick.”
“I’m trying to help you, man. Give you the benefit of the doubt.”
Louie laughed. “Yeah. My new best friend.”