Part 83 (1/2)

”f.u.c.k you, ease off! What I would like to do to this miserable s.h.i.+theel is shoot him with a .22 in both knees, and make him crawl to jail.”

”I'm telling you to ease off, G.o.dd.a.m.n it!”

”With that d.a.m.ned Rolex watch shoved up his a.s.s!” Martinez went on, undaunted.

”Charley, unless I get to go to the toilet, I'm going to c.r.a.p in my pants!” Calhoun said plaintively.

”I don't give a s.h.i.+t!”

Two minutes later, Martinez turned off 222 into a Cities Service complex, a large service station with two rows of pumps, a store offering tires and other automotive accessories, and a restaurant.

He pulled the unmarked Plymouth up in front of the restaurant and jumped out of the driver's seat. He took his identification folder from his pocket and opened it so the s.h.i.+eld was visible, then pushed his jacket aside so that his holstered pistol was visible. He waved his badge around at shoulder height.

”Nothing to worry about, folks. We are police officers!”

That, of course, caught the attention of everyone within fifty feet, including several people seated at tables inside the restaurant.

”Let him out, McFadden!” Martinez ordered.

Charley reached over Calhoun and opened the door.

Calhoun made his way awkwardly out of the backseat.

Charley slid across the seat and got out after him.

”You go set things up in the restaurant,” Martinez ordered.

”I'm not going to leave you alone with him,” McFadden said.

”You don't think I'd shoot him right here, do you?”

”I'm not going to leave him alone with you, Martinez,” Charley repeated.

”Suit yourself,” Martinez said, and walked into the restaurant, where, from the door, he repeated the ”Nothing to worry about folks, we're police officers” routine.

By the time Charley marched the handcuffed former police officer Timothy J. Calhoun through the door of the restaurant, the eyes of everyone in the restaurant were on them, and Calhoun was so humiliated Charley thought he might actually cry.

Charley marched Calhoun past the fascinated restaurant customers to the men's room. Martinez preceded them, and ran a frightened-looking civilian out of the place before he would permit Charley to lead Calhoun inside.

Charley marched him up to a stall and turned him around.

”Aren't you going to take the cuffs off?” Calhoun asked.

”Timmy, I just can't take the chance,” Charley said, sounding genuinely sorry.

He unfastened Calhoun's belt, unb.u.t.toned the flap, pulled down his zipper, and pulled first his trousers and then his shorts down over his hips.

”Back in there,” he ordered.

Calhoun, his trousers at his ankles, backed into the stall and finally managed to lower himself onto the toilet.

”How am I supposed to wipe myself?” Calhoun asked.

”When you're finished, I'll uncuff you to do that,” Charley said.

It became evident to Officer Calhoun that Detective McFadden had no intention of closing the door, but instead was leaning on the frame, obviously intending to watch him.

”You're not even going to close the door?”

”Timmy, I just can't take the chance,” Charley said. ”If I was in your shoes, I think I'd eat my gun.”

”Maybe that's what I should have done when I saw the cars outside.”

”Too late for that, now, Timmy. You're going down.”

”s.h.i.+t!”

In Detective McFadden's professional judgment, Officer Calhoun was about to cry. Which meant that he had swallowed the good cop-bad cop routine hook, line, and sinker. He hadn't thought it would be this easy, but on the other hand, Calhoun had never had a reputation for being very smart, just a good guy.

”What are you going to do, Timmy?” Charley asked sympathetically.

Calhoun looked up at McFadden. There were tears in his eyes.

”What the h.e.l.l can I do?”

”Timmy, how the h.e.l.l did you ever get into this mess?” Charley asked. ”Didn't you even think what would happen to Monica when you were caught?”

”We weren't supposed to get caught!” Calhoun said indignantly. ”That f.u.c.king Phebus said there was no way in the f.u.c.king world we were going to get caught!”

Bingo! Former Sergeant Anton C. Phebus! I'll be d.a.m.ned!

”You're going to have to give them Phebus, Timmy. Before somebody else does. It's not like you'd be ratting on another cop. He's not a cop anymore, he's a lawyer, an a.s.sistant D.A., for Christ's sake! And he got you into this.”

”We weren't supposed to get caught,” Calhoun said. ”s.h.i.+t!”

”What we're going to do now, Timmy, is get on the phone to Sergeant Was.h.i.+ngton, who is my boss, and a good guy. You're going to tell him that as soon as we get to Philadelphia you're going to give him Phebus. He already knows about Phebus, of course, but with a little luck, you'll be giving him Phebus before anybody else on the Five Squad does. That should help you.”

Calhoun nodded.

”I'll be right back, Timmy,” Charley said.

”Where are you going?”

Charley didn't reply.

Detective Martinez was leaning on the wall just outside the men's room.

”Anything?”