King City

Chapter eleven

“It smells like piss in this car,” Terrill whined from the backseat as they continued their patrol.

“Then you should feel right at home,” Billy said and then looked at Wade. “Why did we bother arresting him? He’s not exactly a major felon.”

“He is to Mrs. Copeland,” Wade said.

And he was sure that she was already talking about the arrest to all of her friends. Word would spread quickly, especially after she started using the bullhorn to yell at the junkies and hookers in the alley.

The news wouldn’t irritate guys like Fallon and Timo much, but Wade hoped it might give the law?abiding residents some comfort.

“What Terrill said was true,” Billy said.

“Which was what?”

“Nobody pees on the dirt. We always have to pee against a tree or a bush or a rock.”

“It’s instinct,” Wade said.

“You think it’s about marking territory.”

“I think it’s about aiming,” Wade said.

“So we’re using our dicks like guns,” Billy said.

“Dicks came before guns,” Wade said.

“So we’re using our guns like dicks.”

“Most of the time,” Wade said.

The blocks that followed were a mix of small homes and boxy, two?story apartment buildings built over open carports. On the retail boulevards, the liquor stores were as ubiquitous as the Starbucks coffeehouses were in New King City. There seemed to be a liquor store on every corner, second only in number to the nail salons.

He wondered if the women here were really passionate about decorating their nails or if they just enjoyed getting high on the fumes.

He kept heading east until he reached the freeway, the massive concrete interchange looming over the warren of small warehouses, repair shops, and storage units on the street and casting them in constant shadow.

One of the warehouses had a line of street people leaning against the wall out front, waiting to get inside. “Mission Possible” was painted in big letters on the windowless white cinder block. Wade wondered what the building was before it was a mission.

There was a man in a short?sleeve black shirt with a clerical collar and blue jeans walking down the line passing out water bottles from a shoulder bag. He appeared to Wade to be in his late twenties, with a shading of a beard that looked like it had been applied with a black marker to give his chin definition.

Wade pulled up to the curb and got out, meeting the priest on the sidewalk beside the police car.

The priest looked past Wade to Terrill Curtis in the backseat. “It’s a little early for you to be dropping people off here, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” Wade said. “Is it?”

“At least you had the courtesy to stop your car before kicking him out.”

“This isn’t his destination. He’s on his way to jail. I just stopped by to introduce myself and to let you know we’re here if you ever need us. I’m Sergeant Tom Wade and this is Officer Billy Hagen.” Billy nodded from his seat in the car. “We’re working out of the new substation across from the Pancake Galaxy.”

“I’m sorry, Sergeant,” the man said, offering his hand. “I’m Ted Fryer, but everyone calls me Friar Ted-you know, like Friar Tuck.”

“Cute,” Wade said, shaking the man’s hand.

“But I’m not actually a friar, or an ordained priest,” Friar Ted said.

“Then why are you wearing a collar?” Billy asked through the open window.

“To show my faith. I used to be one of them,” Friar Ted said, gesturing to the row of transients. “Until I was saved two years ago.”

“By Jesus,” Billy said.

“By a 2003 GMC Yukon,” Friar Ted said. “I was high, staggered into the street, and got run over. I broke every bone in my body. It’s hard to score any crack when you’re in traction.”

“Bet I could do it,” Terrill said.

“I was also a captive audience for the bored hospital pastor. He read aloud to me from the Bible for hours every day. It led me to God.”

“It would have led me to drugs,” Billy said.

Ted looked back at the line. “I tried to lead them to him, but some just can’t be saved. But I know he loves them anyway.”

Wade nodded toward Terrill. “Does the guy in the backseat live here? Is that why you thought we were bringing him back?”

Friar Ted glanced at Terrill. “I’ve seen him around. He’s come inside a few times for a hot meal, but he doesn’t live here. I saw the police car and a drug addict in the backseat and jumped to the wrong conclusion. I apologize.”

“You must have had a good reason,” Wade said.

“The only time I see the police is at night as they are speeding away.”

“Away from what?” Wade asked.

“The vagrants and junkies that they’ve removed from another neighborhood and dumped like trash on our doorstep,” Friar Ted said. “That’s how I got here.”

“The police dropped you off?”

“The hospital did,” Friar Ted said.

Wade took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “How often does this happen?”

“Pick a night,” Friar Ted said.

“I will,” Wade said.

They took Terrill back to the station. Wade filled out the necessary paperwork while Billy photographed and fingerprinted Terrill. Billy asked the drug addict if he wanted to make a call, but he didn’t, so he was placed in one of the holding cells.

“What now?” Billy asked, sitting down in a chair beside Wade’s desk.

“We call the dispatcher and request that a unit pick up Terrill and transport him to jail to await arraignment.”

“How long is that going to take?”

“I don’t know,” Wade said. “It will be interesting to find out.”

“You’re easily interested,” Billy said.

Wade radioed the dispatcher. He spent the next few hours patching all the holes in the wall with the exception of the one left by the fire. That hole would take more than Spackle to fill, and he didn’t feel like cutting lumber yet.

Billy killed the time by searching every nook and cranny in the station for forgotten porn DVDs. Much to Wade’s surprise, and Billy’s delight, he found one. Billy was as giddy as kid after an Easter egg hunt.

By 6:00 p.m., it was getting dark and the car for Terrill still hadn’t come. Wade doubted that it ever would.

“Tell you what, Billy. Why don’t you take one of the squad cars, drop off Mr. Curtis at the jail, see him through processing, and go on home.”

“What about my car?”

“You can leave it here overnight,” he said.

“In this neighborhood?”

“It’s parked at a police station,” Wade said. “How much safer could it be?”

There was only one correct answer to that question and Billy knew it. And if he didn’t, Wade’s glare told him so.

“Right, of course,” Billy said, gathering up his DVD and posters. “We’re the King City Police. What was I thinking?”

He might have put up a stronger argument if he’d known what had happened to Wade’s Mustang. But he didn’t. And Wade wasn’t about to tell him.

“It was a good first day, Billy.”

“It sure was,” Billy said with a grin. “I got shot and I’m leaving with free porn. It doesn’t get much better than that.”

There wasn’t the slightest trace of bitterness or sarcasm in the remark. When Wade looked at Billy’s face, what he saw was genuine delight.

At least someone was happy to be in Darwin Gardens-or was too clueless to realize how much danger he was in.

Wade had two hours before his next twelve?hour shift, so he headed to Pancake Galaxy for an early dinner and plenty of caffeine.

But if he was honest with himself, and he usually was, it wasn’t really the food, or the convenience, that led him across the street. He wanted to see Amanda Guthrie again.

There were about a dozen customers in the restaurant, most of them middle?aged. Mandy worked the front counter while another waitress, a good twenty years older than she, covered the tables. Old man Guthrie was at the cash register with his oxygen tank, his cigarettes, and his shotgun.

“You’re still alive,” Guthrie said.

“So are you,” Wade said.

“The odds were more in my favor.”

Wade took a seat at the counter. Mandy came over and poured him a cup of coffee.

“How was your first day?” she asked with a smile.

“You’ll have to ask me tomorrow,” he said. “It’s not over yet.”

“What are your hours?”

“Today it’s twenty?four, but starting tomorrow, my shift is nine at night to nine in the morning.”

“Yikes. I’ll make you a canteen of coffee that you can take with you tonight.”

“That would be nice,” he said.

“Everybody’s talking about you,” Mandy said. “Your showdown with Timo, you moving in, the sit?down with Duke, your arrest of that junkie.”

“Word gets around,” he said.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

It was and she got points in his book for knowing it.

“So what’s the consensus?” he asked.

“Duke bought you, or you’d already be dead.”

“What do you think?”

“I think if you could be bought, you’d still be in the Major Crimes Unit and not here.”

“You read up on me,” he said.

“I did,” Mandy said. “What would you like for dinner?”

“The usual.”

“You’ve only been here once.”

“Now you know how much I liked it.”

She took the order back to the cook in the kitchen and then served some other patrons at the counter.

While Mandy did that, two of the guys who’d trashed Wade’s car came in and approached Guthrie. But they kept their eyes on Wade, staring at him with cold hate.

Wade just sipped his coffee, unperturbed by their presence, which perturbed them plenty.

Without a word, Guthrie opened the register, took out some money, and handed it to them. They walked out.

Wade had another sip of coffee. “Donating to charity?”

“Paying my weekly security bill,” Guthrie said.

“I thought this was hallowed ground.”

“Even the Vatican needs security,” Guthrie said.

“I don’t recall seeing any smiling pancakes on the walls of the Sistine Chapel.”

“If you look closely, they’re there,” Guthrie said. “Michelangelo hid pancakes everywhere. It was his thing.”

“Have you thought about not paying?” Wade asked.

“The DVD place tried that,” Guthrie said. “They had a fire and now they’re gone.”

“But now you’ve got a police station right across the street,” Wade said. “That changes things.”

“We’ll see,” Guthrie said and starting coughing.

Mandy came out of the kitchen with Wade’s pancakes and bacon and carried them to an empty booth by the window. She set the plates down on the table and came back to the counter.

“Your dinner is getting cold,” she said.

He picked up his coffee and went over to the booth. A moment later, Mandy slid into the bench seat across from him, setting down the pot of coffee and half of an apple pie.

“What are we doing over here?” Wade asked as he started to eat.

“I wanted some privacy while I chatted with you.”

“Do you want to tell me something that you don’t want your father to overhear?”

“I might say something racy and suggestive.”

“Like what?”

She picked up a fork and took a bite of his pancakes. “I haven’t had sex in six months.”

“Oh,” Wade said.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why?”

“Nope,” Wade said, continuing to eat. He liked how frank she was and how relaxed she seemed to be with him. It made him feel relaxed, more at ease than he’d felt in months. The uniform did too, though he didn’t know why.

“Aren’t you interested?” she asked.

“Sure I am,” he said. “But I’m being chivalrous.”

She stole another bite of his pancakes. “I didn’t know that chivalry involved not talking about sex.”

“Sir Lancelot never talked about sex.”

“But he got plenty of it,” she said.

“Probably,” Wade said.

“That’s why they called it Camelot,” she said.

“I think you’re mispronouncing it,” he said.

“What about you, Tom?”

“What about me, Mandy?”

“Are you getting plenty of it?”

“No,” he said.

“Any?”

“I’m not very good at this.”

“I doubt that,” she said. “I think you’re a man who doesn’t do anything unless you’re certain that you’re good at it.”

“What I mean is that I was married for a long time.”

“But you aren’t anymore,” she said.

He shook his head. “I’m not sure I know how to be with someone else anymore.”

“Do you want to be?”

“I didn’t until now,” he said.

She took another bite of his pancakes. “Maybe you should be less chivalrous.”

He pushed aside his plate and she slid the pie in front of him.

“Want some apple pie? It’s my momma’s recipe.”

“I’m told it’s better than sex.”

“I think we ought to do a comparison,” she said. “While the taste is still fresh in our mouths.”

She stuck a fork into the pie, carved out a bite, and ate it.

They made love with tender urgency on the bare mattress amid all of his unpacked boxes in the center of his apartment.

When it was over, she lay naked on top of him, her head on his chest.

“Was it Camelot?” he asked.

“I think you’re mispronouncing it,” she said.

“Just following your lead,” he said.

“You followed it well,” she said.

He stroked her back and sniffed her hair. He wanted to remember her smell, to always have that intimate recognition of her no matter what happened next.

“Why me?” he asked.

“You mean, why did I pick you to end my celibacy?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Because I know I can trust you. I didn’t think I would be able to trust a man again,” she said. “I also like the way you move, especially on top of me.”

“You didn’t know that before tonight.”

“I had a strong inkling,” she said. “Why did you accept my invitation to bed?”

“I’m a man,” he said.

“You really are, maybe more than any man I’ve known,” she said. “But not in that way. You wouldn’t fuck a woman just because she asked you to.”

“I might,” he said. “Just to be chivalrous.”

“I want a straight answer.”

“You’re smart and you’re direct. You are who you are. You don’t make excuses for it and you don’t try to be anything else. I like that.”

“It’s what you like in yourself.”

“You’re also a very attractive woman. You mentioned that you’ve been away for a while. Where were you?”

“It wasn’t prison, a mental institution, or a convent.”

“That’s a relief.” Wade looked over her shoulder at the watch on his wrist. It was nearly 8:00 p.m. He hated to say what he had to say next. “Officer Greene will be here in a few minutes to start her shift. I need to go. I’m sorry, I wish I didn’t have to.”

“Me too.” She kissed his chin and rolled off him onto her back. “But we’ll have other opportunities.”

He looked at her. “That would be nice.”

“Nicer than my momma’s apple pie?”

“Much,” he said.