Crawford was a nondescript man, of average height and average weight,
with close-cropped brown hair, brown eyes, and brown skin, all of
virtually the same shade. He was wearing Hush Puppies, chocolate-brown
slacks, tan shirt, and a chocolate-brown jacket, as if his fondest
desire was to be so nondescript that he would blend into any background
and perhaps even attain invisibility. He also wore a brown cap, which
he took off and held in both hands as he stood by the bed. He was
soft-spoken and quick to smile, but he also had more commendations for
bravery than any two other cops in the entire department, and he was
the best natural-born leader of men that Jack had ever encountered.
'How you doing?' Crawford asked.
'My serve has improved, but my backhand's still lousy,' Jack said.
'Don't choke the racket.'
'You think that's my problem?'
'That and not being able to stand up.'
Jack laughed. 'How're things in the division, Captain?'
'The fun never stops. Two guys walk into a jewelry store on Westwood
Boulevard this morning, right after opening, silencers on their guns,
shoot the owner and two employees, kill em deader than old King Tut
before anyone can set off an alarm. No one outside hears a thing.
Cases full of jewelry, big safe's open in the back room, full of estate
pieces, millions worth. Looks like a cakewalk from there on. Then the
two perps start to argue about what to take first and whether they have
time to take everything. One of them makes a comment about the other
one's old lady, and the next thing you know, they shoot each other.'
'Jesus.'
'So a little time passes, and a customer walks in on this. Four dead
people plus a half-conscious perp sprawled on the floor, wounded so bad
he can't even crawl out of the place and try to get away. The customer
stands there, shocked by the blood, which is splattered all to hell
over. He's just paralyzed by the sight of this mess. The wounded perp
waits for the customer to do something, and when the guy just stands
there, gaping, frozen, the perp says, For the love of God, mister, call
an ambulance!'
'For the love of God,' Jack said.
' For the love of God.' When the paramedics show up, first thing he
asks them for is a Bible.'
Jack rolled his head back and forth on the pillow in disbelief. 'Nice
to know not all the scum out there are godless scum, isn't it?'
'Warms my heart,' Crawford said.
Jack was the only patient in the room. His most recent roommate, a
fifty-year-old estate-planning specialist, in residence for three days,
had died the previous day of complications from routine gallbladder
surgery.
Crawford sat on the edge of the vacant bed. 'I got some good news for
you.'
'I can use it.'
'Internal Affairs submitted its final report on the shootings, and
you're cleared across the board. Better yet, both the chief and the
commission are going to accept it as definitive.'
