Free Fall

4

Becca says yes.

“I’ll escort you over there,” I tell Christine.

Hey, I’m wide-awake now. Besides, it’s already Saturday. My day off.

Before Ceepak leaves, he tells me to “keep my calendar open” next week.

“I’ve asked Chief Rossi to assign you to a one-week stint with me starting Monday.”

Finally. Good news. “What’s up?”

“Annual SHPD pre-season ride inspections. As you know, there are many brand-new amusements on the boardwalk this summer.”

True. After Sandy hit, almost all the rides on the boardwalk had to be replaced. You might remember our Mad Mouse roller coaster. Well, Sandy turned it into a water park ride. A photograph of its twisted steel carcass sitting out in the Atlantic Ocean was on the front page of newspapers everywhere in the days after the storm.

“Some of these new rides,” Ceepak continues, “may, in my estimation, have criminal records.”

“Huh?”

“Sinclair Enterprises has installed a ‘Free Fall’ on its pier. It is ‘used equipment,’ Danny, purchased from Fred’s Fun Zone, a ragtag amusement park near Troy, Michigan where, according to my research, the Free Fall was responsible for one death and several injuries.”

Ceepak. The guy does criminal background checks on amusement park rides.

“Plain clothes?” I say.

“Roger that,” says Chief of Detectives Ceepak.

“Awesome.”

Baggy shorts and a shirt loose enough to hide a holster. My kind of uniform.

“The rides really don’t open till ten or eleven,” says Ceepak.

“You want to grab breakfast at the Pancake Palace first? Say, nine-thirty?”

“That’ll work. My mother and her senior citizen group are taking a bus trip to the boardwalk Monday. Want to make sure everything is up to snuff.”

“You don’t think they’re going to ride the rides, do you?”

“Actually, with my mother, you never know.”

True. Adele Ceepak is what they call a pistol. Or a firecracker. Something that sizzles and pops and does things you weren’t expecting.

I escort Christine and her VW up to the Mussel Beach Motel.

Becca, who’s bubbly and blonde, meets us out front in a pair of sloppy sweats.

“Saving another damsel in distress, Danny Boy?” she jokes with a yawn. That’s her cute way of saying thanks one more time for what went down in the Fun House last summer. It’s a long story. Remind me. I’ll tell you sometime.

“You remember Katie’s friend, Christine?” I say.

“Sure. Rough night, huh?”

Christine smiles. “Something like that.”

“You still at the hospital?”

“No. I’m mostly working as a home health aide these days.”

“Cool. Well, you must be tumblewacked. Come on. I put you on the first floor …”

“How much do we owe you?” I ask.

“It’s on the house,” says Becca. “Hey, it’s what Katie would want.”

Becca had been one of Katie Landry’s best friends, too. A lot of people were. Katie had been like that.

“Thanks, Beck,” I say. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow, Christine.”

I head toward my Jeep.

“Hey, Danny,” calls Becca. “There’s two beds in the room if you want to just crash here tonight instead of driving all the way back to your place.”

“It’d be fine with me, Danny,” adds Christine.

I think about it. For two seconds.

“Good night, Becca. See you tomorrow, Christine.”

I don’t look back. I just keep on walking.

Hey, it’s what Ceepak would do.