to Mayor Crispin. This guy here, Knox Pooly, actually chaired his committee to reelect.'
'What's going on here, Dee? This isn't right.'
'No shit. You're getting screwed without the Vaseline. If Donovan's an old friend, I'm surprised he made this list of suckfish.'
'He figures. A year ago he was the chief's community affairs officer. They probably picked him not knowing he was a friend of mine.'
'Okay, so we keep him on the list and hope that he'll at least have divided loyalties. Who else?'
'Not Deputy Chief Gadsworth, of course. I'll take Commander Van Sickle.' Shane looked at the list of three civilians and cocked an eyebrow at DeMarco for help.
'Beats me,' DeMarco said. 'Throw 'em out alphabetically or just drop 'em over your shoulder and the one closest to the door stays. Good a way as any.'
'I'll take Clifford Finch. At least he's a defense attorney.'
'Okay, then your panel is Captain Donovan McNeil, Commander Van Sickle he'll be the chairman, based on rank and Cliff Finch. Good fuckin' luck. This bunch would convict Santa Claus of home invasion, but I'll notify Alexa that these are our choices.'
Shane sat and brooded as DeMarco was served his fourth beer, then started to gulp it down. 'Go easy, will ya?' Shane murmured.
'When I'm being fucked, it feels better if I get a little loaded first,' DeMarco said dourly. He picked up the Letter of Transmittal and reread the Rationale Section. 'Two things here; let's take 'em in order. One: they think you took something from Ray's home.'
'It's bullshit. I don't know anything about it.'
'You wouldn't hold back on me again, would you, Shane? You did last time.'
'I don't know what they're talking about.'
'Okay, so what's with this old fistfight in the garage at Southwest Division?'
'Nothin', just frayed nerves. It was way back in '84, for God's sake. You and I were just going through the BOR. I was uptight. I boiled over, that's all.'
'Shane, you gotta tell me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth; otherwise, we're gonna get blackjacked at that board. I'm gonna ask you again. What the fuck was going on between you and Ray and Barbara? Why did you get into that fight?'
'We never talked about it, but you knew who really beat that Hispanic kid half to death.'
'My guess it was Ray.' 'Right.'
'So, not that it matters all these years later, but why don't you do me a favor and finally spit it out. Tell me what happened.'
'I was in a gas station, taking a leak. I came back to where our patrol car was parked, and Ray was beating this kid with his baton. I broke it up. If I hadn't stopped it, Ray would have killed him. Then, after the complaint got filed by the boy's family, Ray begged me to take the blame. The kid's head injuries had him blank on the incident. He couldn't remember who hit him. Since I was just a probationer and had no complaints on my record, Ray convinced me I would probably get only a few weeks' suspension. He said he'd make up my lost pay out of his own pocket. I was his partner real young, impressionable. Back then I was just like some of these rookies today. I thought he was the best cop on the streets of L. A. He had a way of getting to you, making you believe in him. And he was brave. More than once he risked his life for a brother officer. His two Medals of Valor were not bullshit. So I said okay. I took the complaint for him. But later, while you and I were going through the hearing, I started having nightmares. In those dreams, Molar and I would both be beating that kid. We'd be taking turns. I'd wake up sweating, hating myself. I was under a lot of stress back then, and I guess it was the beginning of my seeing Ray for what he really was a vicious, violent son of a bitch who wasn't a cop so he could protect and serve. He was a cop so he could kick ass and hold court in the street…
'It boiled over that night in Southwest. Barbara had just broken up with me. I was under investigation at IAD, and I just snapped. I yelled at him. He went into the coffee room, got a pitcher of ice water out of the refrigerator, told me to cool off, and threw it on me. I pushed him; he fell; we ended up in the parking garage. It wasn't much of a fight.'
'You were way out of your weight division,' DeMarco said softly. 'He had almost a hundred pounds on you.'
'That's the whole story.'
Again, DeMarco swigged on the beer. He put the bottle down and began making Olympic rings on the varnished bartop, stamping them out with the bottle's wet bottom. Finally he wiped his artwork away with his palm. ' 'Nother longneck, Mark,' he shouted.
'Listen, Dee… I hate seein' '
'Give it a rest. Okay?' DeMarco said sharply. 'Don't tell me how to lead my life. While you were running around with your cell phone turned off, I've been working this thing. I'm not through filling you in yet, so shut the fuck up.' Shane nodded. 'This morning I wrote up a standard petition to overturn the 1.61 and requested your return to duty. It's kinda pro forma when a police officer has been suspended without pay, like an automatic appeal, only I've never seen one get approved before. Guess what? You're the exception.' He reached into his back pocket and shoved a fax over to Shane. 'Signed by the Big Noise himself.' Shane looked at the document. It was as DeMarco said, signed by Chief Burleigh Brewer. 'The whole shebang, from application to acceptance, took two hours. Now go figure that.'
'I can't,' Shane said, staring at the fax in disbelief. The document put him right back on duty with full pay. It didn't make sense in the face of everything else.
'I called Bud Halley and asked him about it. He told me Tom Mayweather walked it through the system personally. However, Halley also told me where they've reassigned you. You're not in Southwest Detectives anymore.'
'Where am I?'
'You ain't gonna believe it…'
'Oh, shit. What is it this time, the grain and drain train at the city jail?'
'You've been assigned to the chief advocate's office at Internal Affairs.'
'I've been what?!' he said, his voice so loud that Chooch momentarily turned away from the video game he was playing and looked in their direction.
'You report to the tin collectors at the Bradbury Building at eight-thirty A. M. tomorrow.'
'That's nuts. I've never heard of an officer awaiting a Board of Rights being assigned to the very division that's trying to terminate him.'
'Me neither. But after thinking it over…'
'They want to keep me where they can watch me,' Shane said.
'A winnah. Give the man something from the top shelf. You is da new Dark Side kick-me. I guess Chief Brewer doesn't want you running around looking for whatever it is they think you took out of Ray's house. They want you on a tight leash.'
The bartender brought DeMarco his new beer. He took three long swallows, then set it down with the others. 'All in all, not a good start, Shane, but rigged boards are my specialty. These tin-collecting assholes can be had 'cause they all got target fixation. Just go down there and keep your nose clean. Let me do the grunting and groaning.'
As he sat on the barstool, looking at the old defense rep, his heart sank, taking his hopes down with it. He had no choice. He had to go down to Internal Affairs. He'd been ordered, and failure to comply with a direct order was also a termination offense.
The only bright spot was that he was still on the payroll. He'd still collect his bimonthly base salary of $2,170.20, plus his teji-year longevity compensation of $60. In return, he'd be working down at IAD, forced to endure the biggest collection of milk-fed assholes on the planet. As he sat there, he decided that he would devote all of his nonworking hours to finding out what was missing from Ray's house.
'Yes! Kick ass!' Chooch yelled suddenly as his game buzzed victory and he was advanced to the next level.
'Don't worry, Shane. I'll unwind this for you. I'll get you off,' DeMarco said, causing Shane to look back at him.
