Personality Plus

(Chapter 2)

© December 2009

Pete opened his eyes, briefly wondering where he was. With the morning sun streaming in on his face, his mind was still fuzzy and his head ached. The last thing he remembered was holding Angie on his lap as they sat drinking their beer. I must have fallen asleep here on Angie's couch, Pete thought as he tried to turn over. It took him only a moment to realize that his wrists and ankles were bound. What the hell? What's going on here? Pete's thoughts were whirling.

"Angie?" Pete croaked out, receiving no answer. "Angie?" He tried again, but still did not receive an answer. Finally, he yelled, "ANGIE!"

"You don't have to yell…I can hear you just fine." Angie came into the living room. "Took you long enough to wake up…I must have used more of the sleeping drug than I intended to; good thing I didn't overdose you on it…what fun would that have been?" She purred into his ear as she leaned in and traced his earlobe with her tongue.

"What the hell is going on, Angie? Why am I tied up? What kind of sick and twisted little game are you playing?"

"Oh, I assure you, Officer Peter J. Malloy, this is not a game; this is very real and I intend to make sure that you pay dearly for killing my father five years ago." This time, her voice was icy cold.

"What are you talking about?" Pete demanded.

"In due time, Officer Malloy; in due time. Now, since you are awake, I need to keep you quiet. I need to step out for awhile and it wouldn't do for you to lay there yelling your head off…just in case someone would drop by. " Angie went back into the kitchen and Pete could hear her rummaging through a drawer. She came back with a piece of duct tape and before Pete could protest, she slapped the tape securely over his mouth, silencing any further words that Pete wanted to utter.

From his face down, prone position on the couch, Pete watched as Angie closed the drapes, picked up her purse and left the house, leaving him behind, in silence, to contemplate what was happening. Immediately he began trying to finagle the rope that was binding his wrists, but it was no use, it was tied well and taut. Giving up, he pondered Angie's words to him regarding her father. Who was her father? He wondered. Five years ago…think Pete, think!


Jim walked into the locker room, ready to give Pete a hard time for not picking him up for work like he was supposed to have done. Looking around, Jim didn't see Pete in the locker room. Well if that don't beat all…he probably got here early and is down having coffee while I am rushing around to get ready since I got here so late. He's not going to hear the end of this. Jim was more than a tad agitated by the time he reached roll call, sliding into the room just as Mac began briefing the officers on the previous shifts' happenings.

"Keep a close eye on the liquor stores in your beat. Night shift had three of them hit within a three-hour period, prior to closing. All the witnesses gave pretty much the same description of the suspect; white male, about six-foot tall, medium build. One witness thought he had a dark blue jacket and a black ski mask; the other two witnesses said he had a black jacket and wore a fishnet stocking over his face. In all the robberies, he brandished a small, silver pistol and made no bones about telling the victims that he wasn't afraid to use it."

"Any vehicle description, Mac?" Jim asked.

"No, I'm afraid not. In all instances, the perp told the liquor store employee to stay down on the floor and count to a hundred, slowly; said that if he so much as saw them peek out, he'd be back."

"Any particular area that he hit, Sarge?" Jerry Woods inquired.

"Three different areas, so he must be driving something. Just keep your eyes open and when possible, show a little more officer presence in the areas where the liquor stores are located. Our goal is to get this guy off of the street before he decides to use that weapon."

Mac continued to go over a few other points of interest before dismissing roll call.

"Reed?"

"Yeah, Sarge?" Jim answered, as he scanned the room for any sign of Pete; but not seeing him at all.

"What'd ya do with Malloy? Forget to pick him up?"

Jim frowned and answered. "No, Mac. He was supposed to pick me up this morning so that Jean could have the car today. I was almost late because he didn't. I waited as long as I could and then I had to have Jean drop me off. Maybe his alarm didn't go off or something."

"Yeah, well, take an L-car and I'll call his apartment. When he gets here, you can come back and switch out for Adam-12."

"Sure, Mac." Jim picked up his briefcase and left the roll call room, thinking, Hmm, I wonder where he could be. Pete doesn't just oversleep. But then, I guess there's a first for everything.

Jim signed out his shotgun and grabbed the keys to 1 L-50 before heading out on lone patrol. He didn't much care for riding the shift alone, though he did enjoy getting in some driving time.

1 L-50, meet 1 L-20 on Tac 2, the dispatcher squawked out.

Jim picked up the mic and acknowledged the order, then flipped the channel to Tac-2.

"1 L-50 to 1 L-20, go ahead."

"Reed, I didn't get an answer at Malloy's place. Cruise over that way; maybe he had car trouble on the way in. Keep me advised."

"Roger, Mac. 1 L-50, out and switching back to Frequency One."

"Roger, 1 L-50; 1 L-20 out."

Jim's brain went into high gear. Car trouble…no…Pete would have gotten to a phone and called. Something's up…I can feel it. Jim had been partners with Pete long enough to know that unless something was terribly wrong, Pete would have made contact with the station in order to let Mac know that he'd be late or not in at all. Jim had a bad feeling in his gut as he turned the car around and headed towards Pete's apartment.

Parking in front of the apartment building, Jim exited the car and donned his hat before bounding up the steps and into the building.

"Oh, Officer Reed; how nice to see you again." Mrs. O'Brien, Pete's landlady and the self-appointed guardian angel over her favorite bachelor tenant, was just coming out of her apartment when Jim entered the building.

"Hi Mrs. O'Brien. It's nice to see you again."

"How's that lovely wife and sweet little baby?"

"They're doing great; thanks for asking."

"Are you here on business?"

"I, uhm, I'm just checking on Pete. He didn't make it to work yet. I wanted to make sure that he didn't oversleep."

"Well, if he did, it's because he had a late night…if you get my drift." Mrs. O'Brien blushed a bit.

"What do you mean?" Jim's curiosity was peaked, now. Pete had left his house at a decent hour and was heading home as far as Jim knew.

"Well, that…that woman he's been seeing for the last few weeks, was sitting out back in her car, waiting for him to come home last night. And the skimpy attire she had on…scandalous, I say…just positively scandalous. Such a nice young man like Pete shouldn't be enticed by a woman like that, but I suppose that men are men and can't help but be attracted to a woman like that. I just wish my Peter would find a nice, Irish, young lady to settle down with."

Jim covered his mouth in a pseudo cough to keep from laughing, despite the situation. He found it amusing that even Pete's landlady was trying to find him a woman to settle down with.

"Uhm, do you happen to know if the young woman stayed very long after Pete came home?" The last thing he wanted to do was to go knocking on his partner's door and have to encounter an uncomfortable situation. What Pete did or didn't do, and with whom, was none of Jim's business.

"Oh, they never even made it inside." Mrs. O'Brien's eyes were wide with exaggeration.

Though not so sure he really wanted to hear why they didn't make it inside, Jim asked anyway. "You say they didn't go in? Uhm, how do you know that?" Phrasing the question as diplomatically as he could.

"Oh, I watched the whole thing from my window…that's how I know." Mrs. O'Brien nodded her head emphatically, as if to add credence to her declaration.

Oh I really don't want to ask this…but here it goes…. "Just what exactly did you see, from your window, Mrs. O'Brien?"

"Goodness…that woman was clinging to him like moss on a tree. Thank goodness it was dark out. I would have been embarrassed if Pete would have seen me spying on them."

This time Jim couldn't hold back the snicker, earning him a glare from the little lady standing in front of him. He quickly decided that he'd better get around to finishing up his inquiries so that he could report back to Mac. "You were saying that they never made it inside?"

"Nope; they left. Her in that little green bug mobile and Pete in his car."

"You don't happen to remember what time it was, do you?"

"Oh, let's see…I had just finished watching that new half hour show on television and that came on at nine o'clock…so, I guess it must have been a little after nine-thirty. Yes, I'm sure of it, because I was in bed by ten. I like to get my beauty rest, you know. It's how I stay youthful." She smiled and patted her hair. Jim could have sworn that she even slightly batted her eyelashes.

"Well if you went to bed at ten, then you don't know if he came back?"

"No, he didn't come back last night. I woke up at five this morning and his car wasn't out in it's spot. I know that because as soon as I get up, I look out…just to make sure nothing is amiss, you know."

"Yes Ma'am…you're tenants are very lucky to have you looking out for them and their property. Uhm, I'm just going to head up to Pete's apartment and make sure that he's not there… you know…just in case he had car trouble and she had to bring him home." Jim tipped his hat and thanked the sweet woman before making his way up to Pete's second floor apartment.

Jim knocked on Pete's door and waited; then knocked again. Still receiving no answer, Jim used the spare key that Pete had given him a few months prior when he'd gone on vacation for a week and Jim was picking up his mail and watering the one lone plant that Pete owned. Stepping inside, he called out for Pete and received no answer. Taking a quick look around, Jim didn't see anything out of place, but didn't really expect to, after Mrs. O'Brien had said that Pete hadn't made it up to his apartment the night before.

Jim locked up as he left and trotted down to the squad car. Getting in, he picked up the mic, "1 L-50 to dispatch." He didn't like the feeling that was in his gut.

"1 L-50, go ahead."

"Have 1 L-20 meet me on Tac 2."

"Roger, 1 L-50; 1 L-20."

"This is 1 L-20." Mac's voice acknowledged.

"1 L-20, meet 1 L-50 on Tac 2."

"Roger, dispatch."

Jim switched over to Tac 2 and shortly heard, "1 L-20 to 1 L-50, go."

"Mac, I just left Pete's apartment. He didn't stay there last night. His landlady saw him drive away following his girlfriend, shortly after nine-thirty. Mac, call it a hunch, but I think something's wrong."

"Okay, Jim; meet me back at the station so we can figure out what's going on. 1 L-20, out and switching back to frequency one."

"Roger, Mac; 1 L-50 switching back to frequency one."

Jim twisted the knob back to the regular channel and then called in to dispatch that he was heading back to the station to meet with the Sergeant. He then pulled a U-turn and headed for the station. Pulling in and parking, he donned his hat and went in to find Mac.

"Jim; down here in the Lieutenants' office." Mac summoned him.

Jim went in and acknowledged both the Lieutenant and Mac, before launching into the information that he'd gained from Mrs. O'Brien.

"What do we know about this woman?" Lt. Moore asked.

"Her name's Angela Green and she works as a nurse over at Central Receiving. That's where Pete met her. They've been dating for about three weeks."

"Have you met her, Jim?" Mac asked.

"Just last night, as a matter of fact. Pete and she had dinner with Jean, Jimmy and myself."

"And?" Lt. Moore questioned.

Jim shrugged his shoulders, not quite sure if he was being a bit biased in his assessment; after all, just because she didn't fawn over little Jimmy didn't mean that she wasn't a nice person. And, just because she wasn't overly friendly towards he and Jean didn't mean that either. After all, she'd just gotten off of work and maybe she'd had a bad day. Wasn't that what Pete had suggested?

"Well?" Lt. Moore pulled Jim from his musings.

"Let's just say that she made less than a stellar impression on Jean and me. She wasn't overly friendly, mind you. I guess she was polite enough, though. Anyway, we didn't get much of a chance to get to know her; she got to our house just before dinner was served and left shortly after we finished eating."

"And Pete? Did he leave when she left?" Mac wanted to know.

"No, as a matter of fact, he walked her out to her car and then came back in for about an hour or so. We had coffee and he gave Jimmy his bedtime bottle so Jean and I could enjoy a little time to ourselves." The last part of this revelation brought a smile to both the Lieutenant and Sergeant's faces. They both knew that their good friend was opposed to settling down and starting his own family, but that when it came to his partners' family, he had a heart as big as gold and loved spending time with his little godson.

"So he left your house shortly after nine o'clock then? And his landlady said that his girlfriend was waiting in the parking lot for him to get home?"

"Right, Lieutenant. She said that they left shortly after nine-thirty, but that Pete never even went up to his apartment. She's also very sure that he didn't come home at all last night."

"She's sure of that? How so?"

"Well, Sir, she's a pretty sharp old gal, and she prides herself in knowing what does and doesn't go on, both in and around her apartment building. She made it a point to tell me that Pete's car wasn't in his assigned parking space when she arose at five a.m."

"Alright, see about getting an address on this Angela Green and we'll have it checked out. I have to say, in all of the years that I've known Pete Malloy, he's never shirked his duties and not shown up for work. I'm inclined to agree with you, Reed; something must be wrong. Find out what you can and keep Sgt. McDonald posted."

"Yes, Sir; we'll do. Thank you, Sir." Jim turned and left the office, heading up to the records department and to dispatch to see about getting an address for Angela Green. The only trouble was, that in a city the size of Los Angeles, there had to be hundreds of Angela Greens, and without a date of birth, finding her and an address for her, was going to be like searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack. As a last resort, he knew he could call the hopital and to get the information from their personnel department, which would be like pulling teeth. Jim sent up a silent prayer that luck would be on his side this day and he wouldn't have to deal with all of the red tape at the hospital personnel office.


"If you know what's good for you, Pete, you'll open up like a good boy and eat!" Angie held the spoonful of vegetable soup up near Pete's mouth, practically forcing his lips apart with the edge of it. Soup spilled down the front of Pete's yellow shirt, quickly staining the material.

Pete's first inclination was to refuse to eat and he voiced that desire to Angie. She responded by forcefully shoving the spoon into his mouth, jamming it against his lower gums and causing him to wince in pain as the scalding hot liquid seared the tender area.

"Now that's more like it." Angie said, as Pete carefully sipped the hot liquid off of the next spoonful. As much as he didn't want to be at her mercy, he was still feeling the stinging effects from the earlier assault with the hot liquid.

Pete figured that if he could keep her semi appeased by cooperating, then maybe he could get some answers from her. "Angie, why are you doing this?"

Angie looked at Pete and very calmly stated, "Revenge, Pete; simply revenge." She shoved another spoonful toward him and he dutifully opened wide.

"Revenge for what, Angie? What could I have possibly done to you? I only met you a few weeks ago."

"I told you last night; you killed my father and now you have to pay the price."

Pete had been wracking his brain every waking moment since she'd gave him that little snippet of information but he couldn't pinpoint anyone that he had shot in the past with the last name of Green. He sat there, silently mulling over what little he knew. He had a perplexed look on his face, which Angie picked up on right away.

"Well, it's obvious by the look on your face that you don't think my dad was worthy of your remembrance!" She was becoming agitated with each passing moment.

Think Pete….think….

"You stupid pig! You shot him dead…in the bank…you didn't even give him a chance!" Angie stood up abruptly, sloshing the soup over the edges of the bowl. She gave Pete an angry look and then with all of the force that she could muster, she threw the bowl of soup directly at his chest. The hot soup burned his skin as it covered the entire front of his shirt. Angie stomped off into the other room.

Pete took a couple of deep breaths and then leaned his head back against the back of the couch. He knew he had to get her back in there so that he could talk to her; he had to try to find out who her dad was if he was to have any chance of reasoning his way out of the situation that he was in.

"Angie…please come back in here. I didn't mean to make you mad. At least come back and talk to me."

Angie came back into the room, glaring at Pete. Her voice held a bitter edge as she spoke. "I was just twenty-one the day you killed him; a junior in college. We were supposed to have dinner together that day. Daddy was going to take me to a fancy restaurant after classes let out. All he wanted to do was get a few dollars from the bank. After all, they owed him that much after firing him. He would be still be alive if you hadn't have shot him that day. You murdered my father in cold blood. He never even got to tell me happy birthday." With his hands bound behind his back, Pete was unable to ward off the stinging backhand that landed across his cheek.

"Angie…I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're talking about. Who was your dad?"

Angie bent down so that she was face to face with Pete. "You BASTARD! How could you NOT remember gunning somebody down? You pigs are all alike; you carry your big gun and hide behind your shiny little badge. You think you have the ultimate authority to play judge, jury and executioner just because you dress up all pretty in your little blue uniform. Well I've got news for you, you son-of-a-bitch; Robert Greenfeld's daughter isn't going to let his death go without being avenged. I intend to make you pay dearly for pumping his gut full of lead, and after I finish extracting justice, you are going to be begging me to let you die in peace! And by the way, just for the record, the name's Ann, not Angie!"

Robert Greenfeld…now I remember. "Look, Angie, or Ann, or whatever you go by, you're dad was robbing that bank. He shot a security guard and two tellers. By the time we got into the bank, he'd shot and killed a customer, even. We came in and he didn't give us much of choice. We told him to drop the gun; gave him a chance to give himself up. He chose to shoot at us, first. He drew first blood, not us." Pete was forceful and straightforward with his words and could see the anger rising in Ann's face.

"SHUT UP! That's not what happened and you know it. You pigs never even gave him a chance. Oh sure, you tell that story like that's the way it happened. Maybe you do that so you can sleep at night. Well I have news for you, Officer Malloy; I haven't slept at night since you gunned my father down! Instead, I have lain awake every night, just thinking of all of the ways that I could make you pay for killing him. I hate your guts and I loathe the day that I had to lower myself to enduring your filthy touch just so I could get close enough to you to get even. Well, I have you right where I want you now and I intend to mete out a little bit of overdue justice for my dad!" Rearing back her arm, she landed another backhanded blow to Pete's face. She then began pacing back and forth, shooting daggers at Pete, as if daring him to dispute anything that she had just said. He remained silent.

Ann stomped out of the room and then came back in with another piece of duct tape. Before he could protest, she slapped the tape in place over his mouth and then roughly shoved him face down on the couch before picking up her purse and leaving the house without another word. Pete was left with no other choice but to lay in a prone position and wait for her to return.