“I’m pretty sure it was around before you. My dad used to say it.”
Vic walked over to his car and stood at the door, waiting for Frank. “Your dad used to say it because I said it to him first.”
“You were, like, ten years old.”
“I was a ten year old police genius, Frank. I’m actually the reincarnation of six other police geniuses, and I carry the wisdom of all of them in me, like Cop Buddha.”
Frank patted Vic’s belly and said, “Now it all makes sense.”
Vic laughed and started the car. They pulled out of the parking lot and he said, “Listen, I meant ‘gimp’ in the nicest possible way.”
“Is that an apology?” Frank said.
“Shut up.”
* * *
An hour later, Frank untied a small white kitchen trash bag in the station’s parking garage and recoiled. “Oh my God, I’m gonna puke.”
“If you puke on my evidence, I will kick you in the knee,” Vic said. “Put your gloves on and don’t breathe in when you open the bag.”
“There cannot possibly be anything we need in here. It’s full of… ulk… dirty diapers… I’m gonna yak.”
Vic grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back. “Hey, calm down. We’ll take the bag out into the fresh air. Listen, you’re going to smell things a whole lot worse than this if you stay in detectives. Trust me.”
Frank wiped his face on his shirt sleeve and groaned. “What the hell are we doing this for anyway?”
Vic slid his hands into leather gloves, then pulled a pair of latex gloves over the top of them. “I can touch anything in the world if I’m set up like this, okay?” He picked up the trash bag and took it outside, making sure to set it down beneath the overhead light. He pulled out a knife from his pocket and flicked it open with one hand, then slit the bag lengthwise. “Bring another bag over here and hold it open.”
Frank put on his gloves the same way that Vic had and held the bag open, keeping his face as far from the bag as possible. Vic reached into the first trash bag and pulled out a rolled up diaper that was leaking brown fluid onto the asphalt.
“Nobody in their right mind would open this. Drug dealers count on that.” Vic peeled off the sticky tape holding the diaper together and unrolled it. “Oh boy. What did they feed this kid. That’s disgusting.”
Frank looked down and gagged. “Hurry up, roll it back up and put it in here.”
Vic dropped the diaper in and reached back for another. “Only four more to go.”
Frank buried his face into his bicep and tried crushing his nostrils against the fabric. His eyes watered from the fumes and odor of liquid feces. The sticky side of the tape got caught on Vic’s rubber glove and he struggled to get it open without spilling the contents of the diaper onto the two of them. He slowly unrolled the diaper and said, “There. You see that?”
Frank opened one eye and looked sideways down at the diaper without moving his face away from his arm. “What is that?”
“It’s a plastic bag.” Vic laid the diaper down and spread it out on the ground. He picked up a stick and poked the brown liquid inside, using the tip of the stick to hoist a glassine sandwich bag out of the soup. “Here, take a look at this.”
Frank pinched his nose and squatted down beside him.
“This is a source bag,” Vic said. “It’s the one the cocaine comes in. If you look close, you can still see chunks of it at the bottom.”
“The only chunks I see are baby corn shit.”
Vic squeezed the bag flat between his gloved fingers to show him the miniscule pieces settled at the bottom of the bag. “This is big enough for an ounce of raw coke. The dealer probably stepped on it enough to turn that into two or maybe two and a half.”
“What does stepping on it do, squish it?”
Vic turned to look at him. “Are you serious? Didn’t you ever watch The Wire?”
Frank shrugged. “I don’t watch TV.”
“It’s the single greatest cop show since Homicide or NYPD Blue.”
“Never saw them either.”
Vic flinched and said, “How the hell can you be a cop and not have watched them? It’s basic training.”
“What do they have to do with what I do out here?”
Vic shook the bag and said, “Maybe if you watched them, you’d know what this…” he stopped speaking and his voice turned into a small squeak in his throat. His eyes widened in horror.
“What?” Frank said.
“Dude, don’t move.”
“Why?”
“It’s nothing. Just don’t move.” Vic set the bag down and said, “I’ll be RIGHT back. Just stay there.”
Frank grabbed him by the arm, “Tell me what’s happening!”
“Get your hand off my shirt! You were just digging through trash!”
“Tell me and I’ll let go.”
Vic lowered his voice and said, “You have a small, teeny, tiny piece of baby poop on your cheek. Real close to your lip. For the love of God, don’t move. I’ll get a towel and we’ll wipe it off.”
Frank’s eyes widened and his jaw quivered slightly. The quiver turned into a full blown spasm as he leapt to his feet and screamed, “You son of a bitch! You got shit on me!” Frank grabbed the wet diaper off of the ground with his hand and cocked it over his shoulder like a football.
“It was an accident!” Vic shouted as he jumped back and threw his hands over his face. “Hey! Hey! That diaper is evidence! Do not throw it, Frank. It has evidence and I am giving you a direct order to put it down.”
“You are so dead,” Frank hissed.
“Put it down, Frank. Let’s both calm down.”
“That is easy for the guy with no shit on his face to say!”
“The more you talk the closer that shit gets to falling right into your… oh Jesus. Where did it go?”
“What?” Frank said.
“I don’t see it anymore. Christ… I think with all your moving and yelling it might have… we’d better get you inside.”
“In my mouth?” Frank shrieked. He dropped the diaper and stuck his tongue out and wagged it like a dog, spitting everywhere.
Vic watched Frank take off running around the parking lot, screaming. “Frank? You okay buddy?”
Frank bent over and clutched his stomach, ready to dump its contents. “Get the hell away from me!”
“Ok,” Vic said, patting him on the back. “Just let it out. There you go. That’s better, buddy. That’s right.”
* * *
He found Frank leaning against his car a half hour later, not looking up when Vic put a six-pack of Budweiser on the hood of the car. Vic cracked open the first can and handed it to Frank. “Here. Alcohol kills infections.”
Frank took the can and emptied it in one long drink. He smirked and said, “Thanks. Where’d you get this, out of evidence?”
Vic took a long sip and said, “Yeah.”
Frank spit the beer straight out of his mouth and shouted, “We can’t drink evidence. What the hell else are you going to do to me tonight?”
“Relax,” Vic said. He opened a can and leaned back against the car. “This is from some underage drinking party and they already went to court. It’s marked for destruction. They don’t say how to destroy it.”
Frank took another can and opened it. “Working with you really sucks.”
“I know,” Vic said. “Hey, tell me again what you said about needing the Staff Sergeant’s permission to use an unmarked car?”
“He said if I need it, I have to contact him directly and request his permission. I’m not allowed to ask anyone under him.”
“That’s what I thought,” Vic said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. He started scrolling through his phone. “Let’s see… what the hell did I put him under. It’s not under ‘Erinnyes.’ Not under ‘Staff Infection.’ Where could it be?”
“What are you doing?” Frank said. “It’s four thirty in the morning.”
“A
h. Here it is. Under Festering Sore.” He pressed a button and held the phone to his ear.
“Hang up, you crazy prick!”
Vic covered the mouthpiece and said, “Shut up!” He held up his finger and spoke into the phone, “Hello? Mrs. Erinnyes? Did I wake you? Yes, ma’am. Did I wake you? Oh dear. Is the Staff Sergeant home? May I speak with him?”
“Thanks a whole freaking lot, Vic. I’m going to be handing out parking tickets for the rest of my career now!” Frank said.
“Staff Sergeant Erinnyes? Good morning, sir. I need Frank to use the unmarked car for a trash pull, but he said he needs your permission first. So is that all right with you?” Vic nodded and said, “Uh huh, uh huh,” several times. “Well, will they be using it for traffic enforcement at four thirty in the morning, sir?”
Vic ended the phone call and chuckled as he put the phone away. “He said you can use it, Frank. Where you going? What? You mad bro?”
5
The next morning Frank limped into the office, squinting at the harsh fluorescent lights. Vic was sitting at his desk, dressed in the same clothes from the night before. Frank limped in, smelling baby shit. “This place stinks.”
“Don’t look at me, you’re the one who ate babyshit,” Vic said. “You ready to get to work? We’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”
“Didn’t you go home yet?”
“Nope. I stayed here and typed up the search warrant. Of course, my eyes started crossing halfway through it and I’m pretty sure I was asleep when I typed the last page. I need you to look it over before I give it to the judge.”
Frank took the papers from him and sat down at his desk. He heard a pair of shoes squeaking by the staircase, the ominous sound of a hippopotamus laboring onto the land in search of more food. “I think Staff Infection is coming.”
“Shit!” Vic stuck his head under his desk and started searching for something. “Where the hell did I put it?” He scanned the room, spying a large laminated poster facing the wall behind Frank. “There! Hang that on the hook behind you. Hurry!”
Frank picked up the poster, glanced at it and said, “What the hell? Dude, what’s this?”
“Just hang it up,” Vic whispered.
The squeaking and breathing and grunting was close enough that Frank barely had time to drop the poster on the hook and get back into his seat before the bulky frame of Staff Sergeant Erinnyes appeared in the doorway. “Good morning, gentlemen,” Erinnyes said. He glanced at the poster and winced, “Why in God’s name do you still have that on your wall?”
“It’s evidence, sir.”
“I don’t care! Why do you need a laminated photograph of a humongous black penis hanging up in the detective’s office?”
“That penis broke the Jeffries case,” Vic said. “It was found on the suspect’s phone, clearly linking him to the crime. When I show the judge that photograph, it’s a sure victory.”
Erinnyes grimaced at the photograph and shifted away from it, trying not to look. “I still don’t see why it needs to be on display.”
“It’s an important evidentiary court display. Do you know how much money we paid to have that laminated? I can’t risk losing it. The wall is the only safe place for it.”
“I don’t want to look at it,” Erinnyes said. “I’ll talk to the two of you about last night later.”
Vic frowned and said, “We’ll stop up and see you after we get finished all our work today.”
They listened to his shoes squeaking away and the grunts of him heaving himself back up the stairs. “That was ingenious,” Frank said.
Vic held out his hand and said, “Here, hand me that. Now that you know what it is, I’m afraid you’ll do bad things to it when I’m not around.”
Frank shrugged and said, “This guy’s too small for me. You can have it.”
“Just keep your hands off my big black penis, Frank.”
“Anything you say, sir.”
* * *
Vic knocked on Chief Midas’s door and stuck his head into the office, waving his search warrant. “Boss? We’re getting ready to hit the house on Oak Street.”
The Chief looked up from his newspaper, “Okay. Have fun.”
“I’m going to grab the patrol guys and have them give us a hand.”
“Did you run it by the Staff Sergeant?”
Vic frowned and said, “No, actually, I didn’t. Is that necessary?”
The Chief thought for a second and said, “It’s his division. You should let him know.”
Frank sighed as they left the office. “Some division. Twelve guys and two part-timers.”
Vic knocked on the Staff Sergeant’s door. “You may enter,” Erinnyes said.
“I need patrol’s help on a search warrant.”
Erinnyes interlaced his thick fingers over his belly and leaned back in his chair. “Why?”
“Because it’s a drug warrant. The house is occupied. Where there’s drugs, there’s guns, that sort of thing.”
“Do you have any evidence of a gun being there?” Erinnyes said.
“No. It’s just an accepted standard that with one goes the other.”
Erinnyes waved his hand, “Here you go, trying to exaggerate things again. I prefer a low key approach. I know you like to be the center of attention, but did you ever think about the bad message it sends a community to see a group of heavily armed police officers storming a house? It makes them feel unsafe.”
Frank put the knuckles of his fists on the desk and leaned forward, “Would you rather them see cops getting shot at? I’ve been there and done that once already this year, sir. It cost me the life of my best friend. How about giving us some help?”
“How about, instead of calling my house at four thirty in the morning to ask about a goddamn car, you give me a little proper notice during reasonable hours?” Erinnyes said.
Vic pulled Frank back. “Forget it. We’ll do it ourselves. Thanks for all the help.”
As they left the office, Frank rubbed his forehead and his hand came away drenched. He wiped it on his pants and said, “I need to take my medicine.” He drew a cup of cold water at the fountain, his hands shaking from the time he pulled the prescription bottle out of his pocket until he dropped several of the pills into his hand and swallowed them. He threw the cup of water back and sighed. “God, I hate that prick.”
Vic snatched the bottle out of Frank’s hand. Frank tried to grab it back instantly and Vic pushed him away and held up the bottle to read it.
“Give me that! It’s none of your business, Vic!” Frank cursed when Vic grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into the bathroom. “You better get your damn hands off me. I’m not playing with you.”
Vic shut the door behind them and locked it. He held up the bottle and said, “You’re supposed to only be taking two of these every four hours. It’s half empty, and you just got it filled a few days ago.”
“I will punch you in the face if you don’t give me back that bottle.”
“You’re starting to get dope sick when you don’t get enough of it, aren’t you.”
“No.”
“It starts when the pills aren’t doing their job so you take more. Then you need more than you get from the doctor. Then you start getting them off the street. Before you know it, you’re snorting heroin from the evidence locker.”
Frank laughed. “Like that’s gonna happen. Exaggerate much? Maybe the Staff Infection is right about you.”
Vic grabbed Frank by the shirt and held the bottle up to his face. “What do you think this shit really is? It’s glorified heroin, Frank. It will make you do things you never thought possible, and I won’t go through it again. How bad is the withdrawal? You feel like you’ll puke if you don’t get it yet?”
“No—”
Vic shook him by the collar and shouted, “Tell me the truth! So help me God I will handcuff you to a desk in my office overnight and force you into withdrawal.”
“All right! I started taking more because the two
at a time aren’t working like they used to. I need to double it to feel any relief, and I can’t make it the whole four hours before I start taking more. I don’t know what the hell to do. But I don’t feel sick or anything. I’m not a freaking junkie, Vic.”
Vic let him go and put the bottle in his pocket. “I’m going to hold onto these. I’ll give you a few to take home with you to get you through the night. In the meantime, call your doctor and tell him you want a non-narcotic painkiller.”
“And what happens when I wake up in the middle of the night in excruciating agony? You going to come over my house with more pills?”
“Take a couple aspirins and drink a few beers.”
“Beer does not erase the pain, Vic.”
“It does for me. Especially when you mix it with whiskey.”
* * *
Frank lifted a pair of binoculars to his eyes and looked through them. The house was a stucco rancher with shutters hanging off the windows and trash scattered across the porch. There was a car in the driveway, but no signs of movement. “I’ve been to this house before,” he said. “They’re always having domestics.”
Vic nodded and yawned. “Just keep watching for a little while. Once we can confirm someone’s home, we’ll go in.”
“Hey, can you take me back to the station? I’ve gotta take a leak.”
“Hell no, we can’t break surveillance. What if we miss something?”
“Christ,” Frank grumbled.
“You still in touch with Hector’s wife?”
“Not really. I think in some ways she resents that I lived and he didn’t. I know she doesn’t mean to feel that way, but it’s the vibe I get.”
“Is that vibe coming from her or you?” Vic said.
“Her. Me. I don’t know.”
“If that were my wife, there wouldn’t be any bad vibes, believe me. She’d be happy as a clam.”
“Don’t say that,” Frank said.
“It’s true. All that insurance money they get for an officer killed in the line of duty? Kids go to school for free. It’s not a bad deal, really. Especially if you were smart enough to get a life insurance policy. I took out the maximum coverage when I had my first kid. If I take a bullet, they are going to be riding high.”
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