Drama City

'Miss Lopez. Making a house call?'

'A Melvin Lee.'

'Spidery-lookin' gentleman,' said Sergeant Peterson, who had been working the Fourth for over fifteen years. 'Toiled under Deacon Taylor, if I recall.'

'If you say so.'

'Don't tell me: You missionary types are interested in their futures, not their pasts.'

'Can't do anything about their pasts.'

'What's he doing now? Pediatric surgeon, some-thin' like that?'

'He works in a car wash.'

'Another productive member of society.'

'Somebody's gotta keep the cars clean.'

'Send him up to the station. Mine could use a bath.'

'You guys are always looking for a handout.'

A call came over the radio, something about a man driving erratically down Georgia Avenue. Peterson keyed the mic and told the dispatcher that he'd respond, then replaced the mic in its cradle.

'I was wonderin'…'

'What?'

'You like seafood?'

'Love it.'

'Ever been to Crisfields?'

'No.'

'You gonna make me work for this, aren't you?'

'I've never been to Crisfields and I'd like to go.'

'When?'

'Give me a call.'

'You still in that same office?'

'Yes.'

'Okay.' Peterson pulled down on the transmission arm. 'Let me get on over to Georgia. See what this guy's malfunction is.' He looked Rachel over, then looked directly into her eyes. 'Be safe.'

'You too, Donald.'

Rachel backed off the window and Peterson drove away. His tires squealed, leaving rubber on the asphalt, as he took off.

They can't help themselves, thought Rachel. They're all boys at heart.

She went up the walkway to the row house where Melvin Lee stayed. As she walked, she smiled and shook her head. All this impulsive behavior in one afternoon. Sergeant Peterson had tried one time, a while back. Turning his car up Sherman as she was making a house call, maybe it was just his lucky day. Could be it was hers too.

Rachel entered the row house and took the steps up to the third floor. She heard television sets and the bass of a stereo as she ascended the stairs. She made the landing and knocked on the door marked 3B. She put her cell phone in her front pocket and kept her badge case and file in her hands. There were footsteps behind the door, and then the door opened.

A young man who was not Melvin Lee stood in the frame. He was tall and thin and had a long lupine face. His eyes were nothing eyes and told her only that he was high. She had seen this look, absent of all humanity, on some of the young offenders in her case files. She had seen it more frequently in the last couple of years.

'Melvin Lee,' said Rachel, badging the young man.

'I ain't Melvin.'

'I'm looking for Melvin,' she said, keeping her eyes on his and her tone firm. 'I'm Miss Lopez. Melvin's probation officer.'

'Yeah, okay.'

'Is Melvin around?'

'He out. He gonna be back soon.'

Rachel smelled marijuana from inside the apartment. She slipped the badge case into the rear pocket of her jeans.

'I'll come back,' said Rachel. 'Tell him I was here.'

Rachel turned to go.

'Hold up,' said the young man, and Rachel stopped.

'Yes?'