The Cut

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They were in a second-story office with a bank of windows overlooking D Street at 5th, in a corner row house close to the federal courts. Tom Petersen, big and blond, sat behind his desk, wearing an untucked paisley shirt, jeans, and boots. Spero Lucas, in Carhartt, was in a hard chair set before the desk. Petersen was a criminal defense attorney, private practice. Lucas, one of his investigators.

A black Moleskine notebook the size of a pocket Bible was open in Lucas’s hand. He was scribbling something in the book.

“It’s all in the documents I’m going to give you,” said Petersen with growing impatience. “You don’t need to take notes.”

“I’d rather,” said Lucas.

“I can’t tell if you’re listening.”

“I’m listening. Where’d they boost the Denali?”

“They took it up in Manor Park, on Peabody Street. Near the community garden, across from the radio towers.”

“Behind the police station?”

“Right in back of Four-D.”

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