While P. Belton drove Judith home to shower, Tate started his search for those who maimed his friend at Sleazy Betty’s. Tate had witnessed Smith’s routine many times, even participating in the shakedowns from time to time, and he knew for someone to take Smith and do the things they’d done to him, they’d capture him after he finished his conquests.
That’s what Smith had called it-conquests-’reminding the peasants who was in charge.’ Tate pulled his vehicle into the alley and dismounted. He kept the headlights on, pulled out a Mag-light and walked the alleyway.
The alley wasn’t heavily traveled, and he could make out Smith’s shoe prints. Another set of prints, barely distinguishable in the low light, was behind Smith’s footprints. Tate looked around and found a syringe thrown into a pile of trash.
That wasn’t a surprise, but when you have nothing to go on, you take what you can find. Tate scooped it up and placed it in an evidence bag. Further searching revealed nothing else for him to use, still, he had more now than he had when he started.
Widow Maker and an empty syringe. While the crime scene monkeys do their test, I’ll run the moniker. It’ll turn up something, if not, we’re gonna must squeeze people until they tell us what we want to know.
Tate wasn’t worried. Between him and Wilkins, they’d find the person, or persons, responsible. Then, they’d sort the situation out.
No one dared to stand against them. If people were stupid enough to do so, they’d pay the price.