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“See, that’s what I mean!” Beaudry pounded the table for emphasis.
“I’m sorry.” She tried to stop smiling. “It was just too tempting—”
“Forget it.”
“Graham, I hear you.” She poked her finger into the suds and licked it. “You know, if the guys think I grew up rich, then they’re stupid. My father climbed through the ranks the hard way.”
“Which brings us to another point, Decker. You gotta stop talking about your father—”
“Ah, c’mon! Now you’re getting personal!”
“I’m just telling you for your own good.”
“Do I do anything right?”
“Not much.”
Cindy looked away, biting her lip to control her rising temper.
Beaudry said, “Every time we start shooting the bull, talking about the day, you say things like, ‘Yeah, my father once had a case like that.’”
“I’m trying to relate.”
“It pisses people off. It makes them think that their experiences are nothin’ special. Everyone wants to feel special. You already feel special because you’ve got all this college. You gotta remember that the average Joe on the force is a high school graduate, maybe a couple of years at a junior college like me. If you’re real smart, okay, you do a four-year state, then enter the academy with the idea of doing the gold.”
“Like my dad—”
“Stop mentioning your dad. He isn’t a legend, Decker, he’s a pencil pusher.”
For the first time, Cindy was genuinely offended. “That’s crap, Beaudry! He was down in the trenches when the Order blew up.”
“Yeah, and a lot of people have said he could have handled that better.”
Her face grew red with anger. “What a truckload of bullshit!” She whispered fiercely. “He saved dozens of kids—”
“But lots of adults were pulverized—”
“He wasn’t in charge, Graham. He wasn’t calling the shots!” She winced. “Ah, screw it! I’ve had enough.”
Beaudry caught her arm before she got up. “I’m not criticizing your dad, Cindy. Just repeating what I’ve heard. You gotta know these things.” He let go of her. “Otherwise, you’re working blind.”
She didn’t answer, staring at the bottom of her empty glass. Beaudry said, “Take a refill.”
“No, thanks,” she said stiffly.
Within moments, a waitress appeared. She wore a low-cut red tank top, a petticoat-red miniskirt topped by a white, ruffled apron, and red heels. Her hair was short, blond, and sprayed stiff. She placed a glass of beer in front of Beaudry.
“How about another for my partner, Jasmine,” he said.
“I’m fine, thank you,” Cindy said.
Under the table, Beaudry kicked her.
“On the other hand, another would go down real smooth.” Cindy gave the waitress her empty glass and a ten spot.
Jasmine smiled. “Boss says that tonight it’s on the house. Just as long as you don’t get greedy.”
“What did I do to rate?”
“He’s been watching you. You came three times this week. He wants to reward your loyalty.”
“Tell him thanks.” Cindy forced herself to smile. “Really. And keep the bread.”
Jasmine’s smile turned into a grin. “A cop with class. Be back in a minute.”
When she was gone, Beaudry said, “Ten’s a big tip.”
“Easy come, easy go.”
He slid his glass across the table. “Here, take mine.”
“No, that’s okay.” She slid it back.
He took a long swig. “You’re pissed, Decker. You look like my wife did when I fucked up with her anniversary gift.”
“I’m fine.”
Beaudry waved her off. “The gossip about your dad is sour grapes, Cin. The little guys getting back at the one who’s made it. Any of us would love to be in Big Decker’s shoes. But that’s not the point. You keeping talking about Daddy, it looks like you’re hanging on to his coattails. It also reminds the rank and file that they haven’t gotten as far. Not that your dad doesn’t deserve it. His rep is a good one. But you gotta stop being so concerned about him and start being more concerned about yourself. Start thinking about what you’ve done lately.”
Again, Cindy averted her glance. She reached across the table and took Beaudry’s brew. “So getting back to Tropper … what do I do?”
“Tell him you have some free time and it makes you antsy. Ask him if he needs any favors.”
“He’ll say no.”
“Course, he’ll say no. Then you say something about the pile of crap lying inside his ‘in’ box. You say something like, ‘Hey, Sarge. Lemme clear some of your paperwork. I’m doing some of my own reports. Lemme type up a couple of your handwritten ones.’”
“He’ll see right through it.”
“Yeah, he will. He’ll know you’re trying to kiss ass. But I bet he’ll take you up on it. He’ll act like it’s no big deal. Real casual. But he’ll remember it.”
“And that’ll be that?”
“That’ll be that.” Beaudry looked around the place. It was filling up by the minute. “I’ve got to get home to Sherri and the kids. What’s today?”
“Today’s the twenty-first.”
“What day of the week?”
“Thursday.”
“Ah … that’s our chili night. That’s a good one. You drink up my beer. I want to save some room for the brewskis with my dinner. Chili and beer. Now there’s a perfect marriage for you. If only men and women were chili and beer.”
At that point, she probably should have cut her losses and gone home. Instead, Cindy surveyed the room for civil faces if not friendly ones. Beaudry’s comments had left her disconcerted. She didn’t want to play the role of the stand-alone, crusading against the world. The maverick made for fine fiction, but was a bitch in reality.
What she wanted was to blend in. What the hell was wrong with her?
Ah well, she sighed. She couldn’t change the past, so she concentrated on the present. Andy Lopez and his partner, Tim Waters, were still at the bar. Andy seemed like a straight-up guy. Tim didn’t impress her much. Conversation with them would be strictly lightweight.
Gotta do better than that.
At one of the tables were Hayley Marx and Rhonda Nordich. About thirty, Hayley was a seven-year vet. She was tall—at least five ten—and had short blond hair and sharp brown eyes. Rhonda was a civilian who worked the front desk at the detectives’ squadroom. She was older … in her forties, maybe even fifties. She had deep, smoky skin and short kinky hair that was more salt than pepper. Cindy had exchanged pleasantries with Hayley, but had never spoken to Rhonda. But they seemed preferable to Lopez and Waters.
Beer in hand, she stood and ambled over. Hayley looked up, then went back to her white wine. “Get a load off.”
“Thanks.” Since the two women were across from each other, she was forced to sit beside one. She turned to Rhonda and held out her hand. “Cindy Decker.”
“Rhonda Nordich.” She shook Cindy’s hand. “I worked with your father way back when.”
“In Foothills?”
“Yeah, in Foothills. He’s at Devonshire now, isn’t he?”
She nodded.
“He was a nice guy.” Rhonda chuckled and swirled her club soda. “Probably still is. Why do you do that? Talk about a person you knew in the past like they was dead?”
Cindy smiled. “I don’t know.”
“Well, say hi for me.”
“I will.”
No one spoke. Everyone drank.
Hayley said, “I see they got you partnered with Beaudry.”
“Yeah.”
“So what do you think?”
Cindy was taken aback by the frankness of Marx’s question. “He’s a good guy.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Why? Is there something I should know?”
Hayley sipped her Chardonnay. “Well, put it this way. He ain’t gonna qualify for the marathon.”
“Oh … that. Yeah, I already know about that.”
“About what?” Rhonda asked.
Cindy said, “He’s a little slow with his footwork.”
Hayley said, “You know, rumor has it that Slick Rick Bederman requested a transfer because of that. He was wrestling with a perp who had a knife. By the time Beaudry got there, the perp almost sliced an ear off. I’m not saying Beaudry’s not a good guy. Just telling you the pitfalls. So don’t go thinking I’m talking against him.”
“Not at all.” Still, Cindy felt uncomfortable. “I appreciate it. But I’m okay with him.”
“Suit yourself.” Hayley finished her glass of wine. “Are you just drinking tonight or what?”
“I’ve got nothing special on my roster.”
“We’re going to have some grub. You’re welcome to join us.”
Cindy smiled. “Well, there is that two-day-old bowl of pasta in my fridge.”
Hayley finally smiled. “That’s pathetic.”
Rhonda said, “You young ones just don’t cook anymore.”
Cindy said, “I can cook.” A pause. “I just choose not to—”
“Uh-huh,” Rhonda said.
“It’s a volitional thing,” Cindy said.
Hayley said, “Now, Rhonda, if you’re dying to cook for us—”
“After four kids, I’ve had enough with feeding mouths. Only mouth I want to feed right now is my own.”
Cindy said, “What’s good here?”
“How hungry are you?” Hayley asked. “Sandwich hungry? Or steak or chop hungry?”
“More sandwich than chop.”
“Try the beef dip,” Hayley said.
“Maybe I’ll have the beef dip,” Rhonda said. “Although I should have the turkey dip. I’m watching the fat.”
“Turkey dip’s not as good as the beef dip.” Hayley turned to Cindy. “It’s very dry.”
Cindy said, “You know, Rhonda, I’ll have the beef dip, and we can split, if you want.”
“If you’re having the beef dip, then maybe I’ll have the tuna,” Hayley said. “You don’t mind if I steal a little from you … although tuna and beef dip don’t exactly go together.”
“Well, it’s not steak and lobster,” Cindy said.
