The Last Precinct

"That was his file," A

I empty the coffee filter into the trash and feel a spike of old resentment. Benton kept so much from me. "A shame," I reply. "Maybe if he'd told some of the other agents, none of this would have happened."

"Would you like more coffee?"

I am reminded that I did not go to bed last night. "I guess I'd better," I reply.

"Some Vie

"Benton got disillusioned with the Bureau in the end," I think out loud. "I'm not sure he trusted people around him anymore. Competitiveness. He was the unit chief and knew everybody was going to fight over his job the minute he even mentioned he was ready to retire. Knowing him, he handled his problems in total isolation_the same way he worked his cases. If nothing else, Benton was a master of discretion." I am ru

Then I think of something else. When Benton was murdered in Philadelphia, he was checked into a hotel. Several bags of his personal effects were returned to me, including his briefcase, which I opened. I went through it just as the police had. I know I didn't see anything like this Tlip file, but if it is true Benton was suspicious that Carrie Grethen might have had something to do with the crank calls and notes he was getting, might he not have carried the Tlip file with him when he was working new cases possibly co

I go to the phone and call Marino. "Merry Christmas," I say. "It's me."

"What?" he blurts out, half asleep."Oh shit. What time is it?"

"A few minutes past seven."

"Seven!" Groan. "Hell, Santa ain't even come yet. What you calling me so early for?"

"Marino, this is important. When the police went through Benton's personal effects in the hotel room in Philadelphia, did you go through them?"

A big yawn and he blows out loudly. "Damn, I gotta quit staying up so late. My lungs are killing me, got to quit smoking. Me and some of the guys and Wild Turkey hung out last night." Another yawn. "Hold on. I'm coming to. Let me switch cha

"That's right. The stuff you guys found in Benton's hotel room."

"Yeah. Hell, yeah I went through it."

"Did you take anything? Anything, for example, that might have been in his briefcase? A file, for example, that might have had letters in it?"

"He had a couple files in there. Why do you want to know?"

I am getting excited. My synapses are firing, clearing my head and pumping energy into my cells. "Where are these files now?" I ask him.

"Yeah, I remember some letters. Weirdo shit that I thought I should pay some attention to. Then Lucy blew Carrie and Joyce out of the air and turned them into fish chum, and that exceptionally cleared the case, I guess you could say. Shit. I still can't believe she had a fucking AR-fifteen in the damn helicopter and…"

"Where are the files?" I ask him again and I can't keep the urgency out of my voice. My heart is pounding. "I need to see a file that had the weird letters. Benton called it his Tlip file. T-L-P. As in The Last Precinct. Maybe where Lucy got the idea for the name."

"The Last Precinct. You mean where Lucy's going to work_McGovern's place in New York? What the hell's that got to do with some file in Benton's briefcase?"

"Good question," I tell him.

"Okay. It's somewhere. I gotta find it, and I'll be over."

A

Days ago, I promised A

For a while, the mood seems to lift in A

"It's not that I can't fly when it's not VFR conditions." Lucy is explaining something about her new helicopter, which apparently has been delivered to New York. "I have my instrument rating. But I'm not interested in having an instrument-rated single-engine helicopter because with only one engine, I want to see the ground at all times. So I don't want to be flying above the clouds on crappy days."

"Sounds dangerous," McGovern comments.

"It's not in the least. The engines never quit in these things, but it pays to always consider the worst-case scenario."

I begin kneading the dough. It is my favorite part of making pasta, and I always refrain from using food processors because the warmth of the human touch gives a texture to fresh pasta that is unlike anything agitating steel blades can effect. I get into a rhythm, pushing down, folding over, giving half-turns, pressing hard with the heel of my good hand as I, too, think of worst-case scenarios. What might Benton have believed was the worst-case scenario for him? If he was thinking that his metaphorical Last Precinct was where he would end up, what would have been the worst-case scenario? This is when I decide he didn't mean death when he said he would end up in The Last Precinct. No. Benton of all people knew there are far worse things than death.

"I've given her lessons off and on. Talk about a quick study. But people who use their hands have an advantage," Lucy is saying to McGovern, talking about me.