It Just Figures

*Chapter Six*

Frank and Tim were cruising a six block radius of the crime scene. Frank lit a cigarette, and Tim shook his head, exasperated.

ÒI thought you were quitting now that the babyÕs come,Ó he said.

ÒDoes it look like IÕm quitting?Ó asked Frank.

ÒNo, but you saidÑÓ

ÒDo you see me smoking at home?Ó Frank asked sarcastically. ÒDo you see little Olivia in her little chair in the little back seat?Ó

ÒNo, Frank, I donÕt, butÑÓ

Frank pulled over to the curb and jumped out, ignoring Tim. Tim sighed and followed Frank.

A small group of men, Doo-wop crooners, were hanging on the corner, swaying, sending their soft voices in harmonious offers to a starlit sky. Even on a bitter winter night, a few people somehow managed to break from televisions, from work or no-work worries, from spousal overload without resorting to violence. A goddamned miracle, thought Frank. The bottle in the brown paper bag didnÕt hurt, either. He and Tim leaned back on the cold metal of the grey Cavalier, arms folded, ankles crossed, watching and listening. Bayliss said quietly, ÒSo, are you gonna gimmie one?Ó

Frank smirked, handed Tim a smoke. The corner singers were momentarily oblivious to the cops. Their voices were magic, pure and high and sweet. Both detectives let everything slide for the time being, just listening to the notes braid in the cold night air. The men were singing Mr. Sandman. Tim looked at Frank and said, ÒRemember this one?Ó

ÒA little before my time,Ó Frank said quietly.

ÒYeah, but comÕon, you know it, right?Ó Tim persisted. ÒFrank, you know thatÕs not what I meant.Ó

ÒThen say what you mean,Ó Frank snapped, back to his old self.

ÒContentious bastard tonight...Ó Tim mumbled.

Frank didnÕt hear the comment. He was headed toward the group, clapping. ÒGentlemen, bravo. And excuse me, but weÕd like to ask you some questions.Ó

The bottle went deep into an inside pocket. The group on the corner consisted of six tall men, five black and one wannabe, shifting from foot to foot, and eyeing Frank nervously, hands shoved into their coats. Frank may be a brother, but a cop is a cop is a cop. Even the black ones could be hell.

*****

Kay couldnÕt shake off the day. She was trying to keep her mind on the job, but it kept working itÕs way back to Brody. She wondered if she made a mistake, letting her guard down with him. But damnit, the way the early morning sun made his wide, square-fingered hands all golden, they way his grin spread as he watched her with the kiteÑshe caught it all. She was technically off duty, but there they all were, out on the streets, looking for clues and non-existent witnesses. For a case supposedly to be kept out of the press, there were dicks all over the bleedinÕ neighborhood. The press would be on this like cats on mice, she didnÕt even give it a day. She glanced at her watchÑway after midnight, and sheÕd had enough. She spun on her feet and headed for her car.

*****

Mikey tagged along with Munch and Meldrick. Munch was unusually quiet, glowering in the back seat. Meldrick was running off at the mouth about something, and Mike grunted, Òuh-huhÕsÓ every now and again, but his mind was on Juliana.

*****

Brody was back in his apartment, nothing to do on his night off unless a suspect was brought in for interrogation, in which case they would call his butt down to the precinct pronto. The courts were more and more inclined to looking at these sorts of tapes to be sure that no police brutality or coercion had been used to worm confessions. And every perp cried brutality once their lawyers stood them up in front of a judge. He had lit a candle and some cheap incense, and was sitting back on his ratty couch, feet on the scratched coffee table. He knew he should concentrate on the red ball, even if he was just a police photographer, but again KayÕs image replayed in his headÑthis time without the magic of video. Brody had the window open to the now easy winter breeze, just a crack, just enough to let slip in the smell of the oceanÑand the memory of the scent of her.

*****

Back in the car, Frank and Bayliss were quiet. Frank was at the wheel as usual, Tim was leaning on his door, smoking, the window cracked. The night was a complete bust.

*****

Munch, Meldrick and Kellerman were all out of breath. Kellerman shoved the young man into the side of the car, where he landed with a resounding bang. Wisely giving up, he simply draped himself over the car, leaning heavily. His cheek was resting on its roof, his hands behind him, crossed over his butt, waiting for cuffs. The detectives had spotted him lurking in the shadows of a stairwell near the scene and approached to question him and he had run like a gazelle. He soon found himself in a heap under three short-tempered, overworked copsÑall for a baggie of reefer in his pocket.

Why me? he thought.

*****

Brody shook off sleep at a sudden knocking on his door. The skinny stick of burned-out incense had left a long, obscene-looking ash slowly drooping in the still, cold air. He shoved the window down on his way to the door, wondering who the hell would be looking for him at this time of night. He opened the door to Kay. She looked haggard and stressed and beautiful. He stood there stunned, staring at her.

She put a firm hand on his chest, gathered some shirt and pulled, saying, ÒYou talk too much, Brody,Ó and her warm mouth fell onto his, and they stumbled back into his apartment.

*****

ÒI told you, I didnÕt see nothinÕ! What do you want from me?!Ó demanded the kid. They had been in the box for nearly two hours.

ÒYou tell usÑwhat do we want from you, reefer boy?Ó said Mikey, who sat on the table edge on the kidÕs left.

Lewis, perched on the right, jumped in. ÒWhat we want from you, my man, is anything you may have seen last night on the very block we found you suckinÕ in that stairwell! You know you lookinÕ at a long sit in the cage for your little weekend pastime? WeÕre all friends here. You give us what we want, and we can maybe, you know, make it all go away, just a bad dream, my friend.Ó Lewis felt like shit, using a little bit of marijuana as an excuse for dragginÕ this dumbass down here. But it was what cops did. TheyÕd grab any chance, no matter how slim, on a whodunit like this one. Sometimes theyÕd get lucky, sometimes someone saw something and traded what they saw to save their butts. What the hell did Lewis care, a dude wantinÕ to lighten his load with some Mary Jane? Most potheads didnÕt commit murder. They just went home and crashed. He hated this part of the job.

Munch was feeling bad, too. He wanted no part of this. He was leaning on the wall across the room, watching. He himself indulged on occasion, but admitting something like that would cost him his badge. Still, it made him feel like one big, fat hypocrite, just being in the same room while they badgered the unlucky schmuck. But who knew, maybe he knew something. So John stayed quiet.

The only hard case was Kellerman. He just didnÕt get it, drugs. He thought weed was dangerous, and even if he was wrong, it was still illegal. Who the hell needed it, anyway? Who needed the spoon, the snort, the needle, when there was that big wide ocean out there with all itÕs mystery and challenge? He looked forward to cracking this guy, and then getting over to the Waterfront, blowing off this crap night with the help of a couple of boiler makers so he could sleep when he got back to the boat.

Behind the one-way glass, Gee turned away, tired and discouraged.

*****

ÒBrody, I swear to bleedinÕ God if this gets back to the precinctÑÓ

Brody was cross-eyed with love and awe. The sun spread warm like melted butterscotch across the worn, wood floors, and shimmered like glitter, it seemed to him, in her hair spread over the pillows.

ÒHonest, Sarge,Ó he grinned, he couldnÕt help himself, Òthis is just between you and me. Oh, Lord, Kay, you and me? Did I just say that?Ó He tangled his fingers in her hair, tightened them until she yelped.

ÒBrody, jeeze!Ó but she was laughing, and she raised her head and gave him a quick kiss. ÒHey, you know the guys, you know how they are.Ó

ÒJealous,Ó he came back quickly.

ÒThey just donÕt need to know this,Ó she ignored his compliment. ÒItÕs just none of their damn business. I canÕt have them knowing IÕmÑÓ

ÒKay...,Ó Brody stopped. He looked so sad suddenly. Kay quit smiling as he looked away and continued, ÒYou wouldnÕt be, you know, ashamed or anything, would you? To be with someone like me?Ó

She grabbed his chin and turned his face back to her. His eyes stung, suddenly, and he closed them. Kay sighed. ÒBrody, look at me. No. Okay? No. What do you mean, with someone like you? Why would I be here if I felt that way? ComÕon, hey! You know them. You understand, yeah?Ó

Brody didnÕt answer, and he didnÕt open his eyes. ÒAw, hell,Ó Kay thought. She didnÕt know what to say to convince him, and was both annoyed and horrified at the situation.

He whispered, ÒKay,Ó and lowered his mouth to hers, his lips touching softly like a beeÕs feet touching, brushing a flower, his small teeth gently nipping, and she wrapped her arms around him.

End of Chapter Six