Contraband

23

Tommy Scully arrived at his desk around ten and found a note from his captain reading, See me. He did not find this encouraging. Usually if the captain had something to say he would come to Tommy’s desk or call him on the phone to discuss it. A summons did not bode well.

Tommy hoped to find the captain extremely busy, so that he would postpone the meeting or just forget about it, but the captain was alone in his office, staring at the wall.

“Come in, Tommy,” he said, “and sit down.”

Not good. “How you doing, Captain?”

The captain took a breath to answer, then let it out without speaking. “Tommy,” he said finally, “you’re the most experienced officer we’ve got, and I respect you.”

It felt to Tommy as if there was a but coming, so he waited patiently for the captain to speak his mind. “I want your assessment of Detective Maxine Crowley, before and after her recent good fortune.” His use of Max’s full name, which Tommy had never heard spoken at the station, made it occur to him that, maybe, this conversation was being recorded. “Go ahead,” the captain said after a pause.

“Well, Captain, before her recent, ‘good fortune’ as you put it, Detective Crowley was the best, most intuitive detective I’ve ever worked with. She was smart, attentive to detail, resourceful, and followed the law.”

“I concur,” the captain said. “And now?”

“Now she is exactly the same, but happier and more optimistic.”

The captain stared at him. “That’s it? ‘Happier’ is the only difference since she got rich?”

“And optimistic.”

The captain made an unhappy noise.

“Captain, if you suddenly inherited a lot of money, wouldn’t you be happier?”

The man shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Would you be the same police officer after your ‘good fortune’?”

“I suppose,” the captain said wearily.

“Then what are you getting at?”

“Tommy, it’s come to my attention that you, personally, have benefited from her good fortune.”

“That is correct,” Tommy said. “Max now owns some real estate, including some houses, and she offered me one, for the rest of my life, rent free.”

“That was an awfully generous gift. Tell me, was this gift in the nature of a bribe?”

“Captain, a bribe is when someone offers you money or goods—”

“Or a house.”

“—or a house, in exchange for a reciprocal gift, favor, or action.”

“And what was that for you?”

“Only common gratitude,” Tommy said. “And Max is the only person I know who I would accept such a gift from. I accepted it because we are close friends, and she gave it without the expectation of reciprocity.”

“Perfectly innocent, then?”

“Not just innocent, noble. She knows that if I retired and took my pension we would be hard-pressed to get along and would have to move to a cheaper house. Having a house free of rent makes it possible for us to get along without having to eke out a living.”

“‘Noble,’” the chief repeated tonelessly.

“There are such people in the world,” Tommy replied. “Now, may I ask a question?”

“Sure.”

“What possessed you to even ask me such a question about Max?”

The chief took immediate umbrage. “I have the right, even the obligation, to occasionally question the conduct of my officers.”

“Your question implied misconduct, both on her part and mine. And it is insulting to both of us.”

“You are not entitled to be insulted, Detective.”

“Oh, yes I am,” Tommy replied. “And if you ever question the personal integrity of either Max or me again, I’ll shove my badge and gun so far up your ass that you’ll never see them again.” He got up and left, closing — not quite slamming — the door behind him.

Tommy went to his desk, retrieved his jacket and gun, and walked out of the station toward his patrol car. It seemed like a good time not to be at his desk.

As he got into the car and started it, he reflected that every two years, year in and year out, he was issued a brand-new car, far more frequently than in most departments. He wondered if the dealer who supplied them was perhaps making a contribution to the captain’s welfare fund, and he resolved to open his eyes and ears to other such anomalies in the department.

Max spent half the following day sacking Rodeo Drive, with Viv in tow. They stopped for lunch and a breather at Spago Beverly Hills, where they needed the two empty chairs at their table to hold their shopping bags.

Over glasses of chardonnay, after ordering Cobb salads, they relaxed and became just the girls for a moment.

“Max,” Viv said, “I’m curious: Do you find Stone less attractive since you came into money of your own?”

“That’s an interesting question,” Max said. “Actually, as a single woman, I’ve always put wealth on the part of a man in the ‘neutral’ column of attributes, not either ‘good’ or ‘bad.’ Now that I have my own, any pressure I might have felt about Stone’s wealth has evaporated. I’m not using his credit card today.”

“Good answer,” Viv said. “We came into some money last year, and I did just what you’re doing now. As time passed, all I felt was relief. I mean, we could live well, even if Dino retired now, instead of later, but now we can live rich, in that event.”

“I’m happy for you both,” Max said. “I know how good the feeling of relief is.”

Their salads arrived.

Later that afternoon, Stone and Dino were sitting by the pool, drinking rum punch, when the noises of a truck maneuvering came from the other side of the hedge. Stone sat up straight. “That’s got to be my car,” he said, climbing off his chaise longue.

“This I’ve got to see,” said Dino, rising with him.

“Just a second,” Stone said, cupping a hand to his ear. A moment later there was the grinding of a winch. “Now,” he said.

They got into their robes and walked around the hedge to where the car was. A man with a clipboard approached. “Mr. Barrington?”

“That’s me.”

“Please inspect your car, then sign for it. We cleaned it up from the travel.”

The car sat in the afternoon California sun, glowing, as if lit from within. Stone walked around it slowly, inspecting everything. “Yes,” he said to the man, finally, and signed for the car. The man got into his flatbed truck and drove away.

Stone got in and put the top down. “Feel like a little spin?” he asked.

“I don’t mind if I do,” Dino said, climbing into the passenger seat.

Stone started the car, and it made a low, purring noise. He smiled.