Tapping his pen on his desk, Woody realized in his entire life he never
found it difficult to adapt to new surroundings, new situations, only this
time was different. Worthington had put him in a position to be his eyes
and ears overseeing the traffic between the DA's office and homicide. His
first task was to make sure the Malden case was being helped along to the
completion Worthington and his boss wanted.
The hour was getting late and he had a stop to make before he could go home and wash away the filth of the day in a long hot shower. Tillman had made him promise that he would end his relationship with Jordan and her father. He had been avoiding them. Taking the coward's way out. Tillman reiterated that morning, that the ball was in play and he needed to make sure his bases were covered.
God, he hated his job.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jordan walked into Pogue after a long day. The first in a string of murdered members of Blackie Conroy's organization had showed up at the morgue that day. Max handed her a beer.
"Twenty two to the back of the head...He never saw it coming."
"There has been a lot of rumbling on the street. I think we have a full blown range war building."
"Unfortunately, they're not fighting over cattle or sheep." Jordan looked around the sparsely populated bar. "Dad, have you seen Woody around lately? He's usually like the preverbal bad penny. I haven't heard from him in awhile. I'm beginning to think we finally ran him out of town."
Max had rumors about Woody's transfer but until he had the facts, he chose to keep information to himself. He changed the subject.
"Sweetheart, are you still getting those hang up calls?"
Jordan took a drink of her beer wishing she had never told her father about the nuisance calls she had been getting. They started a few weeks ago. Normally in the evening, sometimes late at night. The phone would ring once and then stop. Her caller ID just said it was a private number.
"Yeah, but it's not a big deal."
"I really wish you would report it."
"And have to go through the crap of changing my number? No thanks."
"I still didn't like it."
"Dad...."
The bell over the door rang. Jordan looked up to see Woody standing in the door.
"Hey stranger!" She yelled over with a smile.
Woody stood there for a moment and just looked at her. At times he felt his life began and ended with her face...with that smile. He knew by the time he left, she wouldn't smile like that at him ever again.
"Christ, who died?" she laughed "Lighten up...Come on, I'm buying." Jordan patted the stool next to her.
Woody sat down and accepted the drink Max sat down in front of him. He had half the beer gone before Jordan spoke.
"I was just asking Dad if he knew where you've been hiding."
Woody couldn't help but notice the look in Max's eyes.
"Around....I took a new job."
"Really? When were you going to tell me?"
"It's downtown at the Plaza..."
Max muttered but didn't move.
"Damn, I guess you're buying from now on...is that why you're MIA? Are you too good for us now?" she said teasingly.
Woody didn't return her smile. Jordan noticed her father wasn't laughing either. She felt like she was missing something.
Jordan noticed a vein in her father's head throbbing as he spoke "So what exactly do you do in that office."
Woody finished the beer. "I'm in the Captain's...personal staff."
Jordan didn't hear the string of curses that came out of Max's mouth, she was too busy waiting for Rod Sterling to walk through the door and say that they had just entered the Twilight Zone. Worthington was Malden's next in command. The word out said that not only was he as crooked as Malden, but he was actually the puppet master to Malden's puppet. Being on Worthington's personal staff could only mean one thing.
Woody was on the take.
She looked over at Woody as he watched her father's tirade. He had the gull to smile. That self satisfied smirk that spoke volumes.
"Woody? My God....why!?"
Woody sat silent still not looking over at her. He couldn't, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep up the act.
"I'm tired of playing with cards I was dealt, Jordan."
"What the hell is that suppose to mean?" Max growled.
Woody stood and threw a couple bills on the table.
"Maybe if you played......your cards right Max, Jordan's mother would still be alive today."
His words cut them all to the quick. Max pointed his finger toward the door and asked Woody to leave. Jordan sat frozen until she heard the door chime with his exit.
Woody ran a hand over his mouth trying to ignore the fact it was shaking badly. He made his way to the curb and swallowed hard wondering if the weight of the gun in his holster could be nothing compared to the weight that had just dropped from his chest to his gut.
God, he really hated his job.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jordan made her way into her darkened apartment. Her first impulse was to follow Woody out the door of the pub and to slap him upside the head, but Max had stopped her before she could even get off the stool.
Jordan rubbed her temples and reached for a bottle of merlot. She pulled the cork needing a drink, or two, or ten.
She washed down a couple of aspirin with the first glass. She justified her actions by saying she was preventing heart disease.
For an instant she wondered if the combination would work on heartbreak too.
Carrying the bottle, she walked over to her bed. She sat the bottle on the floor and curled up on top of the covers. She swirled the dark red wine around in the globe and watched as the liquid as it formed distinctive streaks down the sides. Someone once told her that you could tell how much alcohol was in wine by the number of legs the glass of wine had. She didn't know if it was true or not but the idea struck her as funny.
She thought about the first time Woody had had dinner at her apartment. He said the only thing he knew about wine was that you had red with pasta and white with chicken and you never mixed either with an adolescent dare.
His naivety was painful at times.
She bit back the tears. How could she be so wrong about him? How could she....
How could someone so seemingly wholesome turn so quickly?
Jordan reached for the bottle and refilled her glass. The bad thing about wine, she thought, was that once the bottle was open it had to be finished. She held up the bottle in her hand and regretted it wasn't a magnum.
The phone rang. She was glad when it only rang once.
The hour was getting late and he had a stop to make before he could go home and wash away the filth of the day in a long hot shower. Tillman had made him promise that he would end his relationship with Jordan and her father. He had been avoiding them. Taking the coward's way out. Tillman reiterated that morning, that the ball was in play and he needed to make sure his bases were covered.
God, he hated his job.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jordan walked into Pogue after a long day. The first in a string of murdered members of Blackie Conroy's organization had showed up at the morgue that day. Max handed her a beer.
"Twenty two to the back of the head...He never saw it coming."
"There has been a lot of rumbling on the street. I think we have a full blown range war building."
"Unfortunately, they're not fighting over cattle or sheep." Jordan looked around the sparsely populated bar. "Dad, have you seen Woody around lately? He's usually like the preverbal bad penny. I haven't heard from him in awhile. I'm beginning to think we finally ran him out of town."
Max had rumors about Woody's transfer but until he had the facts, he chose to keep information to himself. He changed the subject.
"Sweetheart, are you still getting those hang up calls?"
Jordan took a drink of her beer wishing she had never told her father about the nuisance calls she had been getting. They started a few weeks ago. Normally in the evening, sometimes late at night. The phone would ring once and then stop. Her caller ID just said it was a private number.
"Yeah, but it's not a big deal."
"I really wish you would report it."
"And have to go through the crap of changing my number? No thanks."
"I still didn't like it."
"Dad...."
The bell over the door rang. Jordan looked up to see Woody standing in the door.
"Hey stranger!" She yelled over with a smile.
Woody stood there for a moment and just looked at her. At times he felt his life began and ended with her face...with that smile. He knew by the time he left, she wouldn't smile like that at him ever again.
"Christ, who died?" she laughed "Lighten up...Come on, I'm buying." Jordan patted the stool next to her.
Woody sat down and accepted the drink Max sat down in front of him. He had half the beer gone before Jordan spoke.
"I was just asking Dad if he knew where you've been hiding."
Woody couldn't help but notice the look in Max's eyes.
"Around....I took a new job."
"Really? When were you going to tell me?"
"It's downtown at the Plaza..."
Max muttered but didn't move.
"Damn, I guess you're buying from now on...is that why you're MIA? Are you too good for us now?" she said teasingly.
Woody didn't return her smile. Jordan noticed her father wasn't laughing either. She felt like she was missing something.
Jordan noticed a vein in her father's head throbbing as he spoke "So what exactly do you do in that office."
Woody finished the beer. "I'm in the Captain's...personal staff."
Jordan didn't hear the string of curses that came out of Max's mouth, she was too busy waiting for Rod Sterling to walk through the door and say that they had just entered the Twilight Zone. Worthington was Malden's next in command. The word out said that not only was he as crooked as Malden, but he was actually the puppet master to Malden's puppet. Being on Worthington's personal staff could only mean one thing.
Woody was on the take.
She looked over at Woody as he watched her father's tirade. He had the gull to smile. That self satisfied smirk that spoke volumes.
"Woody? My God....why!?"
Woody sat silent still not looking over at her. He couldn't, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep up the act.
"I'm tired of playing with cards I was dealt, Jordan."
"What the hell is that suppose to mean?" Max growled.
Woody stood and threw a couple bills on the table.
"Maybe if you played......your cards right Max, Jordan's mother would still be alive today."
His words cut them all to the quick. Max pointed his finger toward the door and asked Woody to leave. Jordan sat frozen until she heard the door chime with his exit.
Woody ran a hand over his mouth trying to ignore the fact it was shaking badly. He made his way to the curb and swallowed hard wondering if the weight of the gun in his holster could be nothing compared to the weight that had just dropped from his chest to his gut.
God, he really hated his job.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jordan made her way into her darkened apartment. Her first impulse was to follow Woody out the door of the pub and to slap him upside the head, but Max had stopped her before she could even get off the stool.
Jordan rubbed her temples and reached for a bottle of merlot. She pulled the cork needing a drink, or two, or ten.
She washed down a couple of aspirin with the first glass. She justified her actions by saying she was preventing heart disease.
For an instant she wondered if the combination would work on heartbreak too.
Carrying the bottle, she walked over to her bed. She sat the bottle on the floor and curled up on top of the covers. She swirled the dark red wine around in the globe and watched as the liquid as it formed distinctive streaks down the sides. Someone once told her that you could tell how much alcohol was in wine by the number of legs the glass of wine had. She didn't know if it was true or not but the idea struck her as funny.
She thought about the first time Woody had had dinner at her apartment. He said the only thing he knew about wine was that you had red with pasta and white with chicken and you never mixed either with an adolescent dare.
His naivety was painful at times.
She bit back the tears. How could she be so wrong about him? How could she....
How could someone so seemingly wholesome turn so quickly?
Jordan reached for the bottle and refilled her glass. The bad thing about wine, she thought, was that once the bottle was open it had to be finished. She held up the bottle in her hand and regretted it wasn't a magnum.
The phone rang. She was glad when it only rang once.