“That’s a good sign,” she said.
“You took the wrong route,” said Alan. “That’s where you went wrong.”
“Where I went wrong was getting out of the car,” said Becker.
“You’re obviously all right,” said Cindi.
“The route to the left is much easier. You should have gone that way.”
“I went that way last week,” said Becker. “I thought I’d try something harder.”
“You got the stones for it,” said Alan with a touch of admiration. “I don’t know if you’ve got the aptitude, but you’ve definitely got the stones.”
“You don’t need stones for it,” said Cindi.
The cop lifted his hand and waggled his fingers at Becker.
“Looking good,” said the cop.
Becker put a hand over his crotch and tugged.
“And stylish, too,” the cop said.
“Friend of yours?” asked Cindi. She pulled gently on Becker’s arm and he turned, weightless, to face the rock.
“This has been cleared with the police,” Alan called down. “We got permission already. We don’t need any hassle.”
“Who does?” said the cop. “I’m just watching. This is a spectator sport, isn’t it? I’ve never seen anything quite as graceful as Becker there. I saw a pig on ice once, but that’s as close as it comes.”
“You want to try it?” Alan called heatedly.
The cop chuckled. “Just as soon as you put in a staircase.”
“I don’t like cops,” Alan said in a voice markedly softer.
“Neither do I,” said Becker. “That’s why I resigned.”
Cindi had placed Becker’s hands and feet on secure holds on the rock.
“The next hold is eight inches down with your right hand. I can put your hand there if you like. We’ll just take it one step at a time, and I’ll be right here with you.”
“You’re sure this is the macho thing to do?” Becker said. “Oh, please.”
“Are you sure a real man wouldn’t go right back up and try it again?”
“A real man would be home making soup and humping his woman,” said Cindi. “He wouldn’t have to be out here demonstrating his stones.”
Becker laughed. “I’ve got a new crockpot at home. Want to come over and check it out?”
“You must have hit your head harder than I realized,” said Cindi. “What’s it going to be? Down or dangle here and flirt?”
“Down, please,” said Becker,
“They look like spiders,” Tee said. He was officially Thomas Terence Terhune, but he had long since reduced it all to an initial.
They were sitting in the police car, watching Alan and Cindi clamber up and down the rock, retrieving their ropes and equipment.
“You, on the other hand, looked like a window washer.”
“Thank you.”
“What possessed you? There are so many nicer ways to kill yourself. That girl would probably do you in in about an hour in bed, for instance. Less, in the back of a car.”
“Cindi’s a nice girl,” said Becker.
“So? Nice girls don’t fuck? Is this a new thing? As I understand it, nice girls fuck nicely. Look at her arms.”
Cindi was splayed across the rock as if she had been hurled there. The spandex of her climbing outfit seemed to accentuate her musculature rather than hide it.
“Look at any of her,” Tee continued. “If she can do that on a mountain, imagine what she can do in bed. I like a bit of muscle on a girl, don’t you? I remember when they first came out. I was turned off by the biceps, the Navratilova look, you know? But now, I like it. Hell, I like anything. Muscle, fat, body hair, you name it.”
“You getting along all right with your wife, are you. Tee?”
“We get along fine. I don’t bother her and she doesn’t bother me. This kid, Cindi, she’s attached to Spiderman there?”
“Alan’s in love with himself, as far as I can figure out.”
“He shows rotten taste, doesn’t he? How about some coffee.”
“You had enough rockface eroticism. Tee?”
The police car was already moving. Tee swung into a sharp U-turn and headed back toward Clamden.
“What do you think she’d do if I put a move on her?”
“Cindi?”
“Yeah, who else we talking about?”
“Probably call a cop.”
“She can call me anything she wants,” said Tee.
“How about correspondent?”
“You’ve got a cold streak, you know that, Becker? You’re just not a fun-lover. No wonder people try to kill you.”
“So finally we’re getting down to business,” said Becker.
Tee adjusted his holster to ride on the front of his thigh before sliding into the booth. Once in, he spent several seconds adjusting the flashlight, radio, and other equipment on his webbed belt until he was comfortable.
“Shit was designed for Robocop,” he said.
“There’s no way a human can sit down without feeling like an asshole with all this crap hanging down and sticking you in the kidneys. Makes me feel like a telephone lineman.”
“It’s very becoming, though,” said Becker. “It gives you that heterosexual look.”
“You don’t think I need to add a nightstick? Kind of as an image enhancer?… Janie?”
The waitress passed them by without looking back.
“I always wondered what would happen to a cop if he fell into the ocean with all that hardware on. The hobnail boots alone would pull you down.”
“I got my belt attached with Velcro,” said Tee. “In case I have to punish a suspect in her bedroom, rrrrip, and I’m ready.”
“You get a lot of that, do you. Tee? Consoling widows, comforting victims, that sort of thing?”
“Not yet, but I’ve only been a cop for fifteen years. How about yourself? Were you ever called upon-in the course of your duties-to stuff it to one of those ragheads or whoever you were chasing?… Janie?”
The waitress passed them again.
“I take it she knows you,” said Becker.
“She wants me.”
“You’re a strange sort of chief of police. Tee.”
“Why?”
“Your uniform fits, for one thing. There were no doughnuts in your cruiser, for another. I checked. A kind of suspicious trail of ants leading to the glove compartment, but no doughnuts.”
“So let me get this straight,” said Tee. He shifted his weight, tugging again at the belt. “You hang upside down on a rope, then swing into a rock with your head? This doesn’t hurt?”
“Hurt? Why should it hurt? It’s no worse than slamming your fingers in the car door… Miss?”
The waitress stopped abruptly in her passage.
“Two coffees,” said Becker.
“Two coffees,” said the waitress before moving on.
“I get it,” said Tee. “Her real name is Miss, not Janie.”
Tee grew quiet and Becker realized the waiting period was over. Real questions would be next, or requests. Becker did not look forward to either since they usually amounted to the same thing. Whatever Tee wanted, it would make demands upon Becker and demands were exactly what he had spent the last six months
