Dinner and Manure

The back room of Cherry's was full. Dante looked out over the tables, filled with his men. They all got together once a month to renew bonds, exchange information, and kick back. Those members with significant others referred to these gatherings as 'Poker Night'. To be sure, there was some 'poking' going on, but there wasn't a deck of cards in sight.

One of the things his predecessor had initiated was the 'entertainment'. Each man was seated next to a call girl, and what happened between the two after the meeting was their business. During the meal the women flirted and flattered, stroking egos and making the men feel appreciated and special.

Every man liked to hear about how wonderful he was from a pretty girl, even if she was a hooker. It made them feel better about themselves and what they were doing. The flattery worked wonders for morale building, and if they sampled the fruit even once, they could be blackmailed into keeping their mouths shut if they ever had a crisis of conscience. Bruno had to hand it to Kitcher; the whores were a stroke of genius.

But the chippies needed to take their cute little asses somewhere else. It was time for the meeting to begin. Dante tapped his fork against the nearly empty brandy snifter in front of him. "Your attention, please. OK. All right, everybody. Keep it, keep ... Dorfman, shut up please, will you?"

"Sorry," Dorfman mouthed, smart enough not to push it by continuing to talk.

The men settled down under his gaze, shifting from relaxed and slightly rowdy too attentive and focused. "All right, I think you should all know that tonight's entertainment has been cordially provided by Refined Escort Service."

The men clapped and cheered, some leering at their seatmates.

"Now, the usual considerations apply, right? For the next 30 days, any girl showing you a 'Refined' business card will be excused from any compromising positions she may find herself in. Right?" Dante looked around the room with an amiable grin.

This was business as usual, but Bruno always said it. The girls were relieved to hear him verbalize the agreement, and it made them more amenable to any arrangements his boys might be thinking of making with them for later.

"OK. Good, good. Now ladies, we really appreciate your, uh, company. Really. But we got some business to attend to, so ... Good night." Dante waved magnanimously, for all the world a gracious sovereign dismissing servants.

This was never popular with the men, who had been enjoying the company as well as the view. Hookers really knew how to show off their tits; Bruno had always found the view good from the head table. He didn't blame them when they groaned and mumbled good-natured complaints, but they'd never focus the way they should with the women in the room. Besides, every one of those 'ladies' reported to their pimp. Anything you said in front of them, their keepers would hear. Dante wasn't about to give them a single useful word to tell.

"C'mon, ladies. Time to go." Orlinsky said from Bruno's right, affirming the command, as was his job.

Dante waited until the door closed behind the women before standing. He gestured to the second table. "Tonight, the White Bulls would like to give special recognition to Detective Tommy Burgess."

A dark-haired young man stands up in response. Tommy smiles at being singled out. He's clearly pleased with the attention, which Bruno is happy to see. Men like this are easy to motivate and control. A little flattery, a little public praise, and they would do anything you asked.

"Now, within one week of getting his gold shield, Tommy was working a heroin sting. To our great dismay, a dispute broke out between the dealer and the buyer and somehow they both fatally got shot." Dante turned down his lips in a mock-pout.

"Aawwww," the sound of sympathy echoed around the room, ringing as false as their captain's sad look.

"Yeah. Neither the contraband nor the cash was ever recovered. But the good news is that the White Bulls' Scholarship fund is approximately $50,000 to the good." Dante smiled, and this time it was genuine.

Burgess nods in response to the heartfelt cheering that goes up after the announcement. He sits back down, his tablemates patting him on the back. Bruno catches the young detective's eye and makes sure Tommy sees the approval in his eyes. If possible, the dark-haired man puffs up even more.

Sitting in the back of the room with the other newer recruits, Jake curls a lip. Burgess is a bully and an ass. Seeing him preen was making him even sicker to his stomach than listening to the prostitutes cooing at them over dinner had.

It's the same story all over again, just with more players than usual. The room is full, and it is a little disheartening to see just how many cops there are wrapped up in this. Hell, most of his department is here. Poor Pez, it was a wonder she ever made detective with this kind of factionalism running the precinct.

Jake slumped in his chair, caught himself, and sat back up, plastering a smile on his face. He was barely able to keep from crossing his arms in front of his chest, but the body language would be a dead giveaway of his mood, so he contented himself with keeping his hands fisted under the table.

"I got some news concerning a certain female pain-in-the-ass homicide detective." Dante had started speaking again.

'Speak of the devil,' Jake thought to himself.

"I'm happy to report that due to some aggressive recruiting by yours truly, we're very, very close to solving the Pezzini problem. How, you may ask? The answer is, we finally have an inside man. Let's hear it for our newest member, Jake McCarty."

Amid the cheers and whistles, Jake slowly stood up. He kept the smile firmly in place, waving a little sheepishly. He hated to be the center of attention, especially in a situation like this. It was better to blend in to the background than to have everyone see and remember you. He sat back down as fast as he reasonably could, his only consolation the fact that every word was being recorded.

"Now, I don't expect McCarty to do it on his own, so listen up. When the doctors clear her for active duty, she will have to go in for a psychological evaluation. We all know Pezzini's nuts, but since they cleared her after her partner's death, I can only assume she is a good actress. It should be harder for her to fool the shrink this time, I've made sure her therapist is Wolheimer."

Knowing how to play his audience, Dante paused to let everyone laugh. Wolheimer was into meditation and hypnotherapy, and possibly the most annoying flake ever to come down the pipe. More than one cop had probably BEEN driven crazy just from the ditzy woman's babbling.

Even better, and unknown by most, Wolheimer and Pezzini had already clashed once. It had been years ago, back when the department had tried mandatory therapy for all detectives in high stress areas. It had been an attempt at political correctness that had failed miserably. The program was disbanded after several months of complaints on both sides, but not before Wolheimer had tried to encourage Pezzini to 'get in touch with her feminine side'.

Bruno wished he could have been there to witness the resulting explosion; Pezzini really had a mouth on her when she got angry, but he had been working in Narcotics back then. Fortunately Orlinsky had been waiting his turn with the doctor in the hall, and heard everything. He had brought it up when Dante had approached him about finding a therapist on the roster that could be bought.

A shrink with an axe to grind was even better than one with shiftable loyalties. He didn't have to pay Wolheimer a red cent, which also meant he didn't have to worry about a payoff being traced. All it had taken was a couple of strings being pulled, a few detectives suddenly needing therapy, and the next therapist in the rotation when Pezzini's case came up was Wolheimer. It was pure poetry.

"Many of us have suffered through her sessions, and while the idea of Pezzini being trapped with Wolheimer is entertaining, it's not the point I'm trying to make. The point is, I don't want the bitch to pass, and I don't want anyone to be surprised when she doesn't. As soon as she starts her sessions, make it the talk of the office. Gossip at the coffee pot and Xerox machine. Make sure everyone knows she's in therapy, and why. Be sympathetic, but lurid. I want everyone from gold badge to apple to think that she's nuttier than a fruitcake." Dante smiled, a predatory showing of teeth.

"Uhm Captain, how is gossip going to help us get Pezzini off the Force?" Jake asked from the back. This served two purposes, one, it made him look like the idiot he was trying so hard to be, and two, it was more incriminating evidence for the record.

"Listen McCarty, you're new to the game so I'll spell it out for you. If everyone looks at you like you're crazy, treats you like you're crazy, and talks to you like you're crazy, you start to believe you are as bug-nuts as everyone thinks you are." Orlinsky's voice was dry and matter-of-fact. "She's been on the edge since Woo bought it. It shouldn't take much to push her over."

"There's also the matter of public opinion. No one will raise a ruckus if Pezzini gets bounced, because they'll all believe she cracked up. Even her doctor will go with the 'common wisdom' especially since we all know how 'cooperative' Pezzini is with head shrinkers." Dante added, smug as a cat with a canary feather in his whiskers.

"About as cooperative as she is with everyone else," Burgess called out snidely.

"Exactly." Dante nodded at Tommy, "We have been handed a golden opportunity gentlemen. Let's not waste it."

0o0o0

A/N: apple- all probationary (new) officers in NY wear an apple on their collar for the first six months. (or at least they did, my info is about ten years out of date) I know this wasn't a 'fun' chapter, but it was necessary. Cheer up though, the next one is promising to be a lot more entertaining. So much so that I will either bump the rating or post an edited version here, and the original on my website.