True Blue

CHAPTER 34

DRINKS ON the rooftop lounge of the Hotel Washington,” said Mace as she and Roy sat at a table overlooking what was one of the nicest views of D.C.

“It’s actually called the W Washington now,” he said, as he freed three olives from a toothpick and dropped them one by one into his mouth and chewed slowly.

She pointed straight ahead. “Look, you can just make out the countersnipers on top of the White House.” She looked at the street. “And there goes a cruiser on a call. Probably a lousy D &D at a bar.”

“Could be a shooting.”

“Gunshots get a minimum of two patrol units responding. We’d be hearing a lot more sirens. Probably burglar alarm D.C.”

“Burglar alarm D.C.?”

“Burglar alarms go off, you respond, and you find out it’s a malfunction. That’s the principal action around here in ‘safe’ D.C. You want bullet banging or PCP zombie sprints, head to Sixth or Seventh district. They put on a great show there.”

“You’re a walking encyclopedia of local crime minutiae.”

“That’s all I am anymore,” Mace said resignedly.

“Problems?”

“No, Roy, my life is five-star all the way.”

“That didn’t come out right.”

“It never does with guys.” She stood, leaned over the half-wall, and pointed to her left. “Right over there was the first bust I ever made on my own around here. I’d just been certified to ride alone. Spotted a guy in a suit buying a bag of rock from a punk huckabuck. Turns out he was a congressman high up on some anti-drug committee. What a shocker, right?”

As she turned back around, Roy quickly shifted his gaze away from her derriere. There was a tattoo of a cross partly visible where her sweater had ridden up, with the lower half of the cross well down on one butt cheek.

The tattoo artist must’ve had fun doing that one, thought Roy.

She sipped on her beer and munched some nuts. “So do you want to comment on my butt since you were staring at it for so long?”

Bumps of red appeared on each of Roy’s cheeks. “Actually it left me pretty speechless.”

“There was a prison guard who was really partial to it too.”

He flicked a gaze at her. “Did he ever do anything to you?”

“Let’s just say he kept his pants on and leave it at that.”

“So you got a tattoo of a cross?”

“Don’t all good Catholic girls have a cross on their backsides?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never dated a Catholic girl. My loss, I guess.”

“Yes, it is.”

“You know, I thought about joining the police academy after college.”

“Drive fast and shoot guns?”

He grinned. “How’d you know?”

“Way it is with most guys. There were forty-one recruits in my class. Sixteen-week course. Half washed out before the end. Ex-athletes with beer bellies couldn’t even do a push-up. Academy was okay. Learned the phone book, spit and polish, a few training scenarios, but not much about actually being a cop.”

“Phone book?”

“Policies and procedures, general orders. Paperwork basically. Plus physical training. Near the end they put me on a Christmas detail in Georgetown by myself with no gun and no orders.”

“What’d you do?”

“Wandered around, wrote some parking tickets, and smoked some cigarettes.”

“Law school was boring too.”

“I started out on the north end of Georgia Avenue. They called it the Gold Coast, because it was relatively safe.”

“And?”

“And I hated it. Didn’t put on the shield and gun to be safe. I wanted to get into Crime Patrol. They hit the whole city, not some lousy five-block radius. They went after the good stuff.”

“Not drug dealers then?”

“Lock up druggies you’re just padding crime stats. CP went after the burglars, the armed robbers, the murderers, and the drug dealers turned exterminators. That was where the action was.” She paused. “Now I’m on probation and working for a college professor. And I can’t even dream about holding my Glock 37 again without heading back to lockup. Whoop-de-do.”

“I know we don’t know each other that well, but if you ever want to talk about things, Mace, I’m here.”

“I’m more of a forward thinker.” She stood. “Ladies’ room,” she said. “Be back in a minute.”

After doing her business Mace came out of the stall, went to the sink, and splashed water on her face. As she stared in the mirror Beth’s words came at her like hollow-points.

Quit screwing up. Trust me.

Mace didn’t want to screw up. She did trust her sister. She sure as hell didn’t want to go back to prison. Agent Kelly’s words also came back to her, though.

She groaned. This was a total mental conflict. Her head felt ready to explode from the pressure.

At least you’ll have a shot.

She splashed more water on her face and looked at herself in the mirror again.

“Scrub as hard as you want, the scum won’t come off.”

Mace whirled around to see Mona Danforth standing by the door.