Part 5 (1/2)
”Can I buy you a drink when you're done?”
”I'm working the late s.h.i.+ft. I won't be done till seven in the morning.”
”How about tomorrow night, then?”
Replacement will get ticked off...
Jack inhaled. ”Sure, where?”
”The Boar's b.u.t.t?”
”Eleven thirty?”
”Yeah. I'll save a table.”
As Jack walked out of the station, he stopped at the top of the steps. Billy Murphy was pulling out of the parking lot. Not only was Billy going out on patrol, but the police cruiser he was driving was the Dodge Charger that Jack loved.
When Murphy saw him, he stopped momentarily. He looked at Jack, and then smugly sneered before he peeled out of the parking lot and sped down the street. Jack stood there, burning. It was like watching your girl walk away with a guy you know is a sc.u.mbag.
Sorry, baby.
As Jack started his patrol, he went straight to the tattoo parlor. A tall, lanky guy stood behind the counter. His head was shaved on one side, with long black hair on the other. He went a little pale when Jack walked in, but he nodded.
”Hi. I'm looking for Marisa.”
”Not in.”
”What time do you expect her?”
The guy tilted his head to the side and spread his hands out on the counter. ”She's the boss and...it's Marisa...who knows?” He shrugged.
Jack nodded.
He's right. Marisa goes where and when she wants.
”Can you tell her I stopped by?”
”Sure.” The guy grabbed a pen and scribbled a note.
”Has she been in today?” Jack asked.
”Nope.”
”Thanks.”
The bell over the door chimed and three kids, who Jack was certain were too young for tattoos, talked excitedly as they entered. When they saw Jack in his police uniform, they nearly fell in a pile as they scrambled and backed out of the door. The guy behind the counter laughed. Jack walked out the door and watched the kids jostle one another down the sidewalk. His mood darkened as he looked down at his watch.
I should go by her apartment. She could at least call...
He shot a sideways look up at the stars and then started his beat again.
By eight p.m., Jack was walking along the outskirts of downtown. He looked at the big old houses packed together along the tree-lined street. The lawns were always perfectly manicured, even in the winter. If a car was in one of the driveways, it looked as if someone had just driven it off the dealer's lot. He twisted his hands and cracked his wrist. Having grown up poor, Jack had to watch that he didn't slip into an automatic dislike of people of means.
The people in those houses worked hard for their money. Some of them, anyway.
Jack gazed up and down the street. A car up ahead stood out like a sore thumb. The big, old, brown sedan was parked haphazardly in front of a large colonial.
Mrs. Sawyer is out and about. The drivers and pedestrians of Darrington had best be careful.
He crossed the street and saw the car's owner, Mrs. Sawyer, descend a new handicap ramp on the side of the house. She waved when she noticed him.
”Jackie, it's so good to see you.”
He walked over to her, gratefully accepting a hug. The faux fur on her thick brown coat tickled his nose as he gingerly hugged her thin frame.
”It's nice to see you, too, Mrs. Sawyer. How's the General?”
”He's doing well. He doesn't like the cold, but there are plenty of mice to catch inside now.” She made a big show of frowning. Jack laughed.
”And how are you?”
”I'm well. I'm visiting my good friend, Madeline Hopkins.” She held out a gloved hand toward the colonial. ”She fell and broke her hip. We used to go to Finnegan's every Sunday for brunch, but she hasn't been able.”
”That's too bad.”
”She's doing much better and, now that she had them put this ramp in, she'll be up and about lickety-split.”
Jack looked at the new ramp and then down to the sign on the lawn: A-PLUS CONSTRUCTION. His hands balled into fists.
A-Plus is Murphy's moonlighting business. If he made this thing, it will probably implode and kill someone.
Jack looked up and down the ramp with a scowl. He took a few steps to the right, glaring at the untreated lumber and joists even he could tell were s.p.a.ced too far apart.
”What's wrong, Jackie?”
”A guy I know made this ramp and he did a pi-” Jack cleared his throat, ”a poor job of it. He should have used pressure-treated lumber and the joists are off. Look at the supports.” Both his hands went out. ”The cement is already cracking.”
”Is he a friend of yours?” Mrs. Sawyer's words were clipped.
”A friend?” Jack snapped. ”No. He's a jerk.”
”Well, that's a good thing.” She turned around and grabbed the railing. ”I'm going to go tell Madeline everything you just said and insist she get a full explanation.”
Jack stood there for a moment as what he'd done, and to whom, sunk in. He nodded while he suppressed a smile.
”I don't mean to alarm you, Mrs. Sawyer, but you should also be aware the brackets on the railing you're holding are interior brackets.” Jack shook his head. ”They could pull right out from the wall.”
Mrs. Sawyer gasped as she let go of the railing. ”I'm going to insist that man rip this whole deathtrap down and do it again properly.”