Pale Kings and Princes

7

Outside the library a bright blue Wheaton cruiser was parked behind my car and two uniformed Wheaton cops were leaning on my car with their arms folded and their hats tipped forward on their foreheads like drill instructors. One had captain’s insignia on his collar, the other wore sergeant’s stripes. The captain had a round hard-looking potbelly and a long neck. He wore reflecting sunglasses. The sergeant was tall and square with a moustache that curved down around the corners of his mouth. He had on reflecting sunglasses too.

“Excuse me,” I said. “Are you Tonton Macoutes?”

The captain aimed his reflectors at me. “That supposed to be funny, jack?” he said.

“Yes,” I said.

“You think he’s funny, J.D.?” the captain said.

The sergeant shook his head. He had a wad of chewing tobacco in one cheek and after he shook his head, he spit some tobacco juice onto the street.

“I think he’s a fucking creep, Henry,” the sergeant said.

“You got tobacco juice on your moustache,” I said.

“How’d you like to spend a little time down at the station in the back room where it’s quiet,” the captain said.

“Thanks for thinking of me,” I said, “but I’m kind of busy.”

Both pairs of reflectors pointed at me. I could see myself in all four lenses. I put my face a little closer to J.D. so I could see my reflection better and pulled my lips back and examined my teeth.

“You think you’re a real jokester, don’t you,” J.D. said.

“Yes,” I said. “Good teeth, too. It’s the flossing mostly I think that accounts for it. If you do it after every meal...” I used a forefinger to pull my upper lip back to examine the left molars. J.D. pulled his head to the side.

“Cut it out,” he said.

“You can scoff,” I said, “at oral hygiene if you want to...”

Captain Henry interrupted me. “We’re not here to play games with you, jack. We’re here to tell you that you don’t belong around here and that if you’re smart you’ll haul ass out of here before you get in big trouble.”

Sergeant J.D. took a short nightstick out of the long pocket of his uniform pants and began to slap it against his right thigh.

“Look,” I said. “I’m a licensed private detective conducting a legal and legitimate investigation. If I am assaulted by the police I have the right to defend myself and if I defend myself you two clucks are going to need a lot more backup than each other.”

“How about we just run you in for resisting arrest,” Henry said.

“If you think this is resisting arrest, Trout Breath, try rousting me and see what real resistance is like,” I said.

“Thinks he’s tough,” Henry said to J.D.

“Thinks he’s a big deal ’cause he’s got that fucking paper backing him up,” J.D. said to Henry.

“I am tough, I am a big deal, and I am sick of talking to you,” I said.

I walked past them, letting my left shoulder brush J.D. as I went by. I walked around behind my car and opened the door.

Henry said, “We’ll be watching you close, smart guy.”

“I hope so,” I said. “You might learn something.”

Then I got in the car and started up and pulled away from the curb. In the rearview mirror I could see them standing looking after me. I resisted the impulse to floor it. No sense being immature about it. A dignified departure was much more adult.

Trout Breath?