Excerpt from The Floater
The problem is, said Lieutenant Weatherby, there are charges of police brutality and unnecessary use of force outstanding against you, putting the Naples Police in a very bad light with the public and the media. This is particularly the case in this instance, because the kids father is a prominent citizen.
That is exactly what burns my ass, Lieutenant. Its not what the kid did that matters; its the fact that his father is well-connected and no judge is going to put the kid behind bars where he should be. A few years from now, if he keeps defying the law, he will be a hardened criminal.
Well, dont worry about his future, Sergeant. You would do well to think about your own.
Are you saying, Lieutenant, that because I sort of applied some practical justice, that my future is in jeopardy? It would not surprise me if there was smoke coming out my ears. Is that what this conversation is all about? Are you going to make me the fall guy, while that young jerk gets a suspended sentence again?
The lieutenant looked uncomfortable. Something like that, Smith. Its the culmination of a lot of things with you lately. You seem to be completely cynical about the job. Your attitude concerns me. Maybe you have been on the force too long.
He looked down at his desk and opened what appeared to be my personnel file. Says here you joined the Naples Police when you were twenty. And now youre forty-one. With this screw-up on your record, you might as well forget any hope you might have had of promotion. I would suggest you would be wise to consider your options. Early retirement, with a reduced pension, would seem to be your best choice.
I looked at him incredulously. Well, you arrogant asshole. I could feel myself getting hotter and hotter. Twenty-one goddam years, five commendations, a great relationship with your predecessor, and now, just because you consider me some kind of a threat to your job, you are trying to get rid of me. Lets admit it, you hate my guts, and the feeling is mutual. Sure, Ill take early retirement. I took out my badge and slammed it on his desk. You can take the stupid badge and shove it where the sun never shines.
Without another word, I walked out of the office and slammed the door. Heads came up all over the squad room. Then I remembered the police-issue .38 Smith & Wesson in my shoulder holster. I withdrew it and re-opened the door with the gun in my hand, held by the barrel.
Thinking I was going to shoot him, the lieutenant dived under his desk. Despite my anger, I could not help laughing out loud at his panic reaction. Quietly, I walked over to his desk and gently placed the revolver on his desk. He peered out from under his desk, his brown eyes wide with terror.
I was still laughing at the scene in the Lieutenants office, as I walked past all the other plain-clothes detectives and uniformed cops and out into the brilliant sunshine.
A sergeant actually laughing at his own firing? Thats me. Of such weird events are legends made. I was now an unemployed legend.
Excerpt from Cat and Pearly:
The O.P.P. car, a late model Ford Crown Victoria, turned on to the concession road and speeded up, with headlights flashing in sequence, a blue strobe light started to rotate and the lights on the top light bar began flashing sequentially. The high pitched siren began to wail, as the white cruiser closed on the rear of the black Cadillac. On the front fender of the police car, a red light showed the word POLICE. A light on the other fender flashed the signal STOP.
Pearly responded by tramping the accelerator pedal to the floor and the big Cadillac took off in a spray of snow, gravel and mud. Fuck him, Pearly screamed. I aint gonna stop. He cant pass us on this narrow road without goin in the ditch.
Dont be nuts, Pearl, Cat screamed back, as he was pressed against his retaining seat belt, while the big car fish-tailed at 115 Km, almost out of control. Youll get us killed for crissake!
The two vehicles continued on for a few kilometers, with the cruiser following dangerously close to the Cadillac. The police officer eased back the speed, to aim his revolver with his arm out the window of the cruiser. There were two popping sounds, and the Cadillac started to swerve towards the shoulder. Pearly swore as he hit the brakes, slowed down and swung the wheel back and forth to regain control. Finally, they stopped, with the police cruiser right behind.
Son-of-a-bitch shot a rear tire, Pearly explained, as he opened the drivers door. In one motion, he reached down and withdrew his small Beretta from his ankle holster.
No, no, Cat yelled helplessly, as he observed his partners intention. Meanwhile, the officer had stepped out of the cruiser, and was approaching the drivers side of the Cadillac, revolver in hand. Pearly pushed the door wide open, leaned out and still-seated fired three shots at the officer at point blank range. The officer fired back a single shot and Pearly, shot in the head, fell out of the Cadillac, onto the road. The officer was down and writhing on the road when Cat got out of the passenger side.
He looked at Pearly and knew he was dead. Half of his face was missing, the remainder a mass of red flesh. Blood and brain matter were all over the inside of the drivers door. A non-practising Catholic, Cat crossed himself over the corpse of his partner. Well, Pearl, you finally got your wish, he murmured to himself. No more prison for you.
He walked back to the officer, who was still breathing, but unconscious. Two of the 9 m.m. bullets had hit his chest and were embedded in the officers Kevlar bullet-proof vest. The third had caught him in the throat, where bright red blood was oozing from the wound.
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