Cop Out

Chapter 1-2

Grant grabbed his wallet, fished out one of his cards, and gave it to Handley. “Okay. Sounds good.”

The two walked to the baggage claim area together. Grant spotted the young plainclothesman who’d been delegated to pick him up, so he shook hands with Handley and they said their farewells.

The young officer grinned and said, “Hi, Captain, welcome back.”

“What do you mean, boy?” Grant said, trying to look stern. “I haven’t told anybody yet whether I’m retiring or not.”

“Yes, sir. But the betting around HQ is that you aren’t gonna retire yet for a long time. Chief Boros has pretty well let everyone understand that the captain’s job is yours when you get back. And everybody’ll be pretty disappointed if you don’t take it.”

“You don’t say?” Grant said, still trying not to smile. “Come on, detective, let’s go home.”

“Yes, sir!”

When the young man dropped him at his home and insisted on carrying his luggage into the front hallway, Grant thanked him. “I’ll call tomorrow and see if Chief Boros has time to see me.”

“Sounds funny calling him Chief. I mean, it’s only been a few weeks since he had the job you’re taking over.”

“I may be taking over, Wozniak. Don’t be spreading any rumors.”

“Oh, okay, sir.”

“Thanks again for picking me up.”

“Well, I was ordered to do it, Captain, but it was a pleasant duty.”

“Dammit, boy, I’m not a captain yet!”

Wozniak grinned. “Sorry ‘bout that, sir.”

Grinning and shaking his head, Grant said, “There’s just no damned discipline in this police force.”

A very unchastened Wozniak turned the unmarked police car around and went down the drive.

When he got home from the hospital—his leg in a cast—Grant had slept on the pullout bed in his ground floor study. Now he was eager to get back to his real bed upstairs, so, after turning up the thermostat to take the chill off the house, he laboriously hauled his valise up the stairs. He found he had to sit and rest a few minutes once he’d gotten there. His leg still hurt, but the main problem was that he was out of shape. He hadn’t been able to run or work out since the accident. He’d never run again, he was told, but the doctor had urged him to keep going to the gym and work on machines that wouldn’t impact his leg.

He called his neighbors’ house, a hundred yards down the road.

“Ricki, it’s Grant. I’m home.”

“How are you? Did you have a good time? How are Jan and Ken? How was your flight?”

Grant chuckled. “I’m fine, they’re fine, and the trip was fine. How are you and Bobbi?”

“We’re both great, and so is Archie.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Look, I’ve got to go get some groceries, but then I’ll come over and pick up Himself. You sure everything went okay?”

“Yes, Jim. He likes us, you know. I’m sure he missed daddy, but he’s fine. I’ve got a chicken and broccoli casserole in the oven. Why don’t you plan to eat with us? I’m sure Bobbi’ll be as eager as I am to hear about your trip.”

“Deal. When do you want me?”

“Well, this puppy knows I’m talking to you, so you’d better get your ass over here as soon as you get back from the store. I’ll have a JD waiting for you.”

“You’re a prize, dear.”

“Uh huh. See you later, baby.”

Ricki and Bobbi were among the very few people in Colby who knew that Grant was gay. And he’d never actually told them. They just knew. Apparently some lesbians had gaydar. That made him think of the guy he’d sat with on the plane that afternoon. He wore a stud in his right ear. And even if he hadn’t, Grant would have guessed he was gay. Not that he was campy or anything. Just something about him. And he was great looking. Besides that, Grant couldn’t think how long it had been since he was so comfortable just chatting with another guy.

He did enough grocery shopping to last until the weekend, when he’d go again. Then he showered and went next door, to be met by an exuberant Archie doing his version of the happy Snoopy dance.

He was grateful for the Jack Daniels on the rocks that Ricki shoved into his hand after the master/beagle reunion. The casserole and salad were delicious, as was the apple pie Ricki had made from scratch. Grant thought Bobbi was lucky to have such a loving partner, especially one who was so talented in the kitchen. He had Ricki’s recipe for the chicken/broccoli casserole, but it always tasted better when she made it. He suspected she had a secret ingredient that wasn’t on the copy of the recipe she’d given him.

As they had their coffee and pie, Bobbi asked, “Have you made up your mind what you’re gonna do?”

Grant faked a look of innocence and asked, “About what?”

Bobbi hit his shoulder hard enough that it smarted.

“About your job, sumbitch.”

Grant grinned. “Oh, that. Yeah, I really can’t see retirement yet. I’m not looking forward to being stuck at a desk forty hours a week. I hated the paperwork when I was an active detective. But I don’t see any alternative.”

Bobbi nodded her head as if she agreed.

“You know, retirement might not be so bad if you had a great guy in your life,” her partner commented.

“Jeez, Rick! You sound like Jan.”

“Well, maybe she’s right. Think about it. Being home all day wouldn’t be bad. Take it from me. You could read. And then put a nice meal on the table when your woman—oops—your guy came home.”

“Yeah, right!” Grant said.

Bobbi chuckled.

Later, as he was leaving, Ricki said, “Be careful when you take Archie for his walk. He’s pretty strong, and he could pull you over.”

Christ, Grant thought, everyone wants to treat me like an old man!

“Thanks for the warning. I’ll be careful,” he said.

* * * *

The next morning Grant went to his appointment with Police Chief Al Boros, who shook his hand and said, “Welcome back, Grant. Would you like some coffee?”

“No, thanks, Chief. I’m good.”

Boros, who’d always worn a suit when he was supervising the plain clothes branch, was now in full uniform. “So, how was Florida? How’s your sister, Jean, is it?”

“Jan.”

“Oh, right.”

“Florida was warm. Jan and Ken are fine, thanks.”

“So what did you do down there?”

Grant chuckled. “Laid around on the beach, mostly. Slept a lot.”

“How’s the leg?”

Grant’s hands clenched. “It’s getting better. Maybe with a little more time I could…”

“Now look, Grant. You’ve got to face facts. The doctors all said that leg would never be a hundred percent again. So you may as well be realistic. Of course, if you’d been following procedure, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Grant tensed. This point had been raised before. He shouldn’t have been chasing Karpov alone. That did violate procedure. But he didn’t see how having another cop there with him would have made any difference. It was dark. It was a big, unfamiliar warehouse. And he fell through a hole in the floor onto a concrete basement twelve feet below. He was lucky, the doctors had said, that he didn’t do worse than mangle his leg.

“Yes, I know.”

Having made his point, Boros seemed to relax. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring all that up again. I just need you to tell me what you’ve decided to do. And I don’t mind saying I hope you’ll stay on.”

“Thanks, Chief.” He’d almost said, “Thanks, Al.” Shifting a little in his chair to make his leg more comfortable, he said, “You know, if I take the job, my style wouldn’t be like yours.”

“Whadaya mean?”

“Well, face it, you tend to micromanage things. I’d be more inclined to let the guys do their thing. I mean, if you hire the right kind of people, then you’ve got to trust ‘em.”

Boros stared at the wall behind Grant for a while. Then he looked Grant in the eye and said, “So long as everybody follows SOP, I’m okay with that.”

“Does that mean you aren’t going to micromanage me, either? After all, I’ll be doing your old job.”

Boros grinned. “s**t! I’ve got so much on my plate I won’t have time to hassle your ass. I know you’ll do your job right.” He stood. “So, you’re not retiring?”

Grant heaved himself up. “No, I guess not.”

“Congratulations, Captain Grant,” Boros said, still smiling. “I suppose I’d better call the fag over in PR and tell him we have a new Supervisor of Detectives.”

“You mean Anders?”

“Yeah, but his deputy PIO is another one of them.”

“What difference does that make?”

Boros looked searchingly at Grant for a couple of beats. “Not much, I guess, but I’m damned glad we don’t have any queers in our department.”

“Al.”

“Yeah?”

“You’d better watch saying things like that. The County Commission has made it clear that they don’t want any discrimination based on s****l orientation or anything else.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. This is just between us. I’d never say anything like that where I could be quoted. Now, welcome back. You reporting for duty tomorrow?”

“I thought I’d start today, if that’s okay.”

“Good man! Come on, we’ll get you settled in my, that is, your office.”

* * * *

Friday evening when he got home from work, he walked Archie. When they got back, he checked his answering machine.

“Hi, Jim. This is Jake Handley. Remember me from the plane the other day? Look, I usually hate plane flights. I try to sleep through them if I can. But I really enjoyed talking with you. I was wondering if you’d like to meet me for dinner, my treat, tomorrow evening. It’s short notice, I realize, so if you’re busy, I’ll understand. Give me a call, please, at 555-6839.”