The Mourning Missed Page 3

  “That’s not my problem, Hop Sing,” Bart bellowed. “My problem is when the payment is light. No... more... light... payments, got it?” Bart raised and smashed the old man’s face into the table top with each word as he emphasized it. When he finished, blood was running freely from the old man’s nose and mouth. Rising painfully erect, the elder refused to staunch the flow of blood but only stood with venom in his gaze as blood ruined the front of his embroidered silk shirt. “You will have your money today,” he said softly.

  “I knew you’d see it my way,” Bart said. Turning to Clint, he motioned toward the front door. “Let’s go, we’ve got two more stops to make before lunch.”

  “JACKSON, YOUR TRAINING officer is outside at your vehicle waiting for you,” the shift supervisor informed her. “Car 23.”

  Walking out the back door of the station, Lilly strode down the length of the vehicles parked there, looking for license plate 23. When she’d reached the last car and had not found it, she at first thought she hadn’t heard right. She was about to go back inside and ask when she noticed a short, fat woman in a police uniform obviously at least a size too small for her, sitting on a bench near the end of the parking lot.

  She had a valise at her feet, and was reading a romance novel. Parked directly in front of her was a three-wheeled electric cart with the word Parking stenciled across the back and along both sides. The number painted in the center of the rear hatch was 23.

  “A Meter Maid?” Lilly screeched. “They made me a Meter Maid? Those bastards are not going to get away with this,” She fumed, whirling back toward the building.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” called a voice from behind her.

  Turning, she saw the fat woman had put her book down and was struggling to rise from the bench. Walking back to the woman, Lilly stopped several feet away. “Are you my new partner?”

  “Yeah, if that’s what you wanna call it. I’m supervisor of the parking enforcement unit. I’ll be directing your area of patrol for the near future,” the woman said laboriously.

  “Are you alright?” Lilly asked, suddenly concerned for the woman’s health.

  “Oh, I’ll be fine in about two years, nine months, twenty-four days, seven hours and...she paused, looking at her wrist. “Thirty-nine minutes.”

  “Let me guess, that’s when you retire,” Lilly asked sarcastically.

  “Yes, and if you want to remain on the force, you’ll change your attitude pronto, little lady,” the grotesque woman scolded. “See, this is how it goes. Nobody wants to partner with a five foot, 100 pound black-Asian woman, regardless of whether she graduated at the top of her class. You don’t have enough moxie to make up for your lack of strength, size, or physical power to be on the streets.”

  “But the city’s Affirmative Action Program insists we allow minorities, women, and ethnic or religious differences onto the force. In fact, they’ve mandated a quota. That’s the only reason you were admitted to the Academy, it’s the only reason you graduated from the Academy, and it’s the only reason you’re a police officer,” she smiled acidly. “Now, if you want to continue being a police officer, I’d suggest you sit you skinny little ass down next to me and let me fill you in on what you’ll be doing for the next twenty-some years.”

  Five

  “MR. NGUYEN IS VERY upset about the way McMichaels treated him today,” the Dark Man said.

  “Mr. McMichaels will soon outlive his usefulness, and then he will have to meet with an unfortunate accident,” the Boss replied.

  “And will I be the one to arrange this accident?” The Dark Man wondered aloud.

  “It will depend upon how successfully you extract the information I want from him before his accident.”

  “And what information is that?”

  “All in good time, my impatient friend; all in good time,” the Boss smiled.

  “HE ACTUALLY BEAT THE man’s face against the table,” Clint said, appalled by what he had witnessed during his first day on the force.

  “Isn’t that something Internal Affairs would want to know about?” Lilly replied.

  “Yeah, right. My second day on the job, and I’m ratting out my new training officer. How does that look? How does that even work?” He shot back.

  “I’m really sorry you had a bad first day, maybe I can make you forget about it for a while,” Lilly vamped.

  “What did you have in mind?” Clint asked, suddenly all ears.

  “I saw this cute little outfit in the window of Jenny’s Playthings on my rounds today. I went back and bought it on my lunch break,” she began as she started to unbutton the blouse of her uniform.

  “And you’re what, wearing it now?” Clint asked, flabbergasted.

  “Unh, huh, and my blouse has been rubbing against my nipples all afternoon,” she groaned, pulling the tail of her blouse out of her slacks and shrugging it off her shoulders. Beneath, she was wearing a red leather bustier with cutouts for her nipples. They were hard, and stuck out beyond the surface of the supple leather.

  Licking his palms, Clint placed them lightly over her swollen flesh. He worked them in gentle circles as she arched her back while reaching behind her to unbutton the cuffs of her blouse. Even when she had succeeded in freeing her arms, she remained in the position. Her eyes were partially closed, and the tip of her tongue was visible as it rested on her lower lip.

  Stepping back, Clint waited as she slowly rose from her sensual stupor. When her eyes finally focused again she asked, “Why did you stop?”

  “I wanted to see the rest of the outfit,” Clint replied.

  Fumbling with the buckle of her belt, she struggled to free her hips from the now suddenly confining garment. Clint dropped to his knees directly in front of her and worked his fingertips in light circles across her naked belly. He watched the skin ripple with pleasure as she opened the buckle and then the clasp of her slacks, allowing them to fall to the floor. Beneath, she wore a red leather garter, red fishnet stockings, and nothing else.

  “Mmm, nothing to get out of the way,” he said, gliding his hands around behind her and across the smooth flesh of her backside.

  When he had two hands full of her buttocks, he buried his face in her crotch. Gasping, Lilly grabbed his head to steady herself. Taking this as a sign she appreciated his approach, Clint laved her with his tongue as he squeezed and caressed the flesh of her bottom.

  Soon enough, she twisted her fingers into his short, curly hair and ground her mound hard against his face, writhing in her release. As she did, her legs gave out and she collapsed across him. Rolling her to the side on the white shag carpet in his bedroom, he stood and began to undress as he gazed down on her in adoration. As soon as his pants dropped and she caught sight of his apparent condition, she was on her knees returning the favor.

  AFTERWARD AS THEY LIE in bed, naked and sated, Clint turned to her. “How is it you got such a great partner that you can stop and buy lingerie on your lunch break, and I’m chauffeuring around the police version of the Godfather?”

  “Well, it’s like this; I really don’t have a partner or a trainer,” Lilly hedged before finally blurting it out. “There’s not much to learn about being a Meter Maid.”

  “A what?” Clint sat bolt upright, gaping at her open-mouthed. “You graduated top in the class, broke three previous records all held by men, and were the obvious pride of every instructor in the Academy,” he shouted. “And now you’re a fucking Meter Maid? Whose idea of a joke was that?”

  “Apparently, none of that counts because of my size,” Lilly silky caramel skin darkened in frustration and embarrassment. “Nobody in Northwest Division wants to partner with me because they don’t believe I can hold up my end.”

  “Well, we’re just going to fix that tomorrow,” Clint said hotly.

  “Oh, yeah?” Lilly quipped. “And just exactly who do you plan to go see? You’re not even in my division, let alone being the newest kid on the block.”

  “It’s just not ri
ght,” Clint argued. “You’re one of the best natural cops to ever graduate, according to Bacchus and the Commandant. Do they not have any leverage?”

  “You know, I hadn’t thought about them,” Lilly admitted. “Sarge did say if I ever needed advice, he was just a phone call away.”

  “So?” Clint looked expectant. “Call.”

  “Now?” Lilly looked dubious. “It’s 9:30 at night; I don’t know what he might be doing. He could be asleep.”

  “We both know that’s not true,” Clint rebutted. “Sarge never goes to bed before midnight. Call him, or I will.”

  “You don’t have his number,” Lilly challenged.

  “Says who?” Clint shot back. “You weren’t the only one to fall into his favor.”

  Lilly picked up the bedside receiver of the cordless phone and pressed the numbers from memory. The phone rang four times before a gruff voice answered. “Bacchus.”

  “Sarge, it’s Lilly,” she said, holding the phone away from her ear so Clint could hear as well.

  “Lilly, what’s wrong? Are you ok?” His voice was a combination of warmth at recognizing her voice and concern she was calling so soon after graduation.

  “Is there any way we can meet for dinner tomorrow?” She asked. “I’m living with Clint and we’ve both run up against some things we’re just too green to know how to properly handle.”

  “Sure, I’ve got this week off before the next class begins. How about Angelo’s at seven?” Bacchus asked. “You’re buying.”

  They both laughed and Clint said, “I guess we’ll be having spaghetti.”

  THE NEXT DAY, CLINT was exposed to more of the strong-arm tactics and authority abuses he had already seen. He also met three other veteran officers who regularly voiced the same attitude about what was rightfully theirs by risking their lives for the thankless people of Montrose City. At lunch, all five of them went to a Mexican restaurant at the height of the lunch rush. There were a dozen people standing or sitting in the entry waiting to be seated.

  Bart led the party right past the hostess station, where she stood flustered in exasperation as the waiting patrons began asking why they could walk right in while the rest had to wait. She made some noise about there being a reservation for them, to which one older lady took exception. “When I called in at 10, I was told you didn’t take reservations. So, which is it? You do, or you don’t? Or you do, but only for police?”

  When the hostess could do no more than smile sheepishly and shrug, the woman looked at her five friends and rose. “Come, ladies. We’ll eat elsewhere.” Looking back at the young woman, she fired a parting shot. “Be sure to tell your manager we won’t ever be back. Neither will any of the other members of the Ladies’ Auxiliary. I assure you, I intend to do so myself, just as soon as he isn’t busy. You see, I have respect for his time.”

  Bart strode through the restaurant as if he owned the place, heading into the back room where special functions were usually held. There was a meeting underway, with a dozen men in business suits and ties just finishing their meal. One was placing a flip chart on an easel, obviously about to begin a presentation.

  “I’m sorry, officers, but this is a closed meeting,” he said boldly.

  “You go right ahead, you won’t bother us,” one of the others said. “We’re just here for a quick bite.”

  “You don’t understand,” the man tried again, stiffening his spine. He was obviously not accustomed to people ignoring what he said. “This is a confidential business presentation and no outsiders may view the information I’m about to disclose.”

  “Really?” A third officer asked as he began walking toward the man in charge. “Let’s see how important this really is.” When he reached to turn the cover page, the man thrust his arm past him, trapping the top page in place. “I really can’t allow you to see that,” he said forcefully.

  The officer buried his fist viciously in his flaccid stomach. As the man dropped to his knees, he emptied his recently consumed lunch onto the officer’s shoes. Jumping back, the officer yelled to his partners. “Did you see that? First he assaults an officer and then he tarnishes his uniform.”

  Kneeling beside the gasping, retching man, the officer grabbed a handful of his collar-length hair and yanked his face up.“Here’s how I see it,” he said. “You and your group of limp-dick shitheads can get the fuck outta here right now and let us enjoy a little private lunch, or we can arrest the bunch of you for interfering with an officer in the performance of his duties. What’s it gonna be?”

  Immediately, all the men at the table began hurriedly gathering their notebooks, coats, and personal belongings. Inside of two minutes, the room was empty except for the five policemen.

  “That’s more like it,” Bart smiled. “Parsons, go find someone to clean that mess up before it stinks up the room,” he ordered. “And open some windows before you go to help air it out.”

  LILLY WASN’T HAVING any better of a day. She had just finished writing her second ticket of the morning for a double-parked Mercedes when the apparent owner came out of a hair salon straight across the sidewalk from the offending car. “I’m moving it now,” the matronly woman called. “You can just put that right back in your book.”

  Lilly ignored her and was making her way back to the cart when the woman spoke more sharply to her. “Young lady, do you know who I am? I just told you to take that ticket back.”

  Lilly knew she should just keep walking, but something in the woman’s tone reminded her of the last principal she’d had before graduating high school. That woman had apparently been out to get her and anyone like her, because she and Lilly had butted heads frequently. This woman used the same Holier-than-thou tone but with a much harsher delivery by a long-shot. Lilly wasn’t having any.

  Whirling, she marched back to stand within three feet of the overbearing old harpy. Smiling sweetly, Lilly reached onto the windshield and slowly pulled the ticket from under the wiper. The glitter of triumph in the woman’s eyes was short-lived as Lilly pulled her radio from its holster and called dispatch.

  “Dispatch, unit 23, I need recovery service to 1298 Del Roy to remove a booted vehicle. Black Mercedes SL 600, License #...,” and she proceeded to impound the vehicle. Moving quickly to her cart before the woman got any bold ideas, she removed a wheel-lock device and returned to the front tire of the luxury car. Placing the claws around the tire, she slid the retaining bar into place and snapped the lock closed. Walking back to her cart, she drove off down the street without a backward glance.

  She had three more run-ins with people full of themselves before the day was over. All of them had attitudes which basically said, the laws of parking and other such mundane issues do not apply to me. Lilly was making it her mission of the day to prove them wrong. At the end of her shift as she was parking her cart, the obese woman who supervised parking enforcement stopped her in the lot. “Let me see your book,” she ordered without preamble.

  Handing it to her, Lilly watch in shocked amazement as the woman tore three tickets from her book. The supervisor handed it back and turned to walk away. “Wait a minute, you can’t do that,” Lilly said without thinking.

  Whirling as much as a grossly-obese woman could without toppling, the supervisor stepped back very close to her. “What did you just say?” She demanded. Her squinted eyes combined with the folds of fat lining her upper cheeks caused her pupils to almost completely disappear.

  “I said, it is unlawful to remove citations from another officer’s book without their express consent. In all but the most extreme cases, citations may only be removed by the issuing officer,” Lilly quoted the manual.

  “Isn’t that nice, she memorized the rule book,” her boss said sarcastically. “Well, here’s a news flash about the real rules. The Police Commissioner occasionally calls a Division Commander and asks him to make certain tickets go away,” she said, her voice full of derision. “The Division Commander, if he knows what’s good for him, says two words; yes and sir
. Then the Division Commander calls the shift commander and makes the same request.”

  “I’m not a rock star, so I don’t do requests; I just follow orders. And if you want to last through the end of the month, you’ll shut your trap.” Eyes flashing over her flaming cheeks and bloodshot nose, she continued. “If you ever tell me I can’t do something again, I’ll have you on report for insubordination.”

  Lilly stood thunderstruck. As she continued to stand, trying to sort through what had just happened, a trustee came out of the building. He was pushing a heavy wire cart and made his way with eyes downcast over to unit 23. Opening the trunk with a key from a large ring on his belt, he removed the remaining three boots from the vehicle and placed them in the cart.

  “Excuse me, I’m signed for those. What are you doing?” Lilly asked caustically.

  Reaching into a tray in the back of the cart, the trustee wordlessly pulled a clipboard out and handed it to her. It was a new inventory of the vehicle and the boots had been removed. Staring at it for a moment Lilly cursed, using many of her favorite childhood Bayou phrases. Scrawling her name haphazardly across the bottom, she flung it into the cart. The trustee retrieved it and returned it to its place in the tray. Then he wordlessly rolled the cart back into the building.

  Six

  DINNER WAS A SOLEMN affair. It didn’t matter that Sarge had arrived early and ordered Veal Parmigiana, Chicken Tetrazzini, and two bottles of good red wine. Both of the young people were totally bummed out.

  “Eat; then talk,” Sarge said. “Eat because it will make you feel better. Talk because it will make me feel better. Give me your wine glasses,” he said to them both, proceeding to fill them to the widest part of the bowl. Lilly turned hers up and emptied it in three long draughts, holding it out for a refill.