disappearing from the
carousel; the chatter is continuous and louder, as the wine is consumed
everyone becoming more animated. Red and I are cautious, and the conversation
is a little awkward and stilted, on both sides. My phone rings; it's Karen and
have to answer.
“Karen, where the hell are you? We’ve saved
a seat for you; the food is good but disappearing.”
She is excited. “Charlie, I’d been thinking
about your question, you know……. ‘why did Horny Harry bend down close to her
ear and whisper his instructions?’…….. I don’t think he has a partner. The son
of a bitch is too self-centered. My theory is: he is recording everything for
the future. He wants to replay and by whispering his instructions so they are
not heard, her comments will play back as voluntary. A low whisper will not be
heard. The video plays like she is really sincere, and all her comments sound
spontaneous. Coming from her without any coercion. On playback, he comes across
as a great lover.”
I think she is on to something, and she is
pleased. I minimize my challenge. “You think he may be creating a library of
his love conquests for a replay? The problem is your victim remembers it was
dark, really dark; this is not a great setting to produce a porno video.”
“Yes, I know. I chased down the one tech
who hasn’t left for Chinese supper. He tells me it is possible, for top quality
you need to get some specialized equipment. It comes in a miniaturized version
and can be mounted almost anyplace. The good news is: it’s expensive and only a
few shops in the city handle the gear. If our lover boy purchases locally, we
may be on to him.”
“You might be right. Harry is in love with
himself. Great thinking. Now come on down and I’ll buy you a drink. You know
the food is good.”
“I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”
I hang up. Red and I are alone at the
table; the others have all finished eating and have moved on to the bar or
dance floor. I’m feeling good because I think Karen may have made a breakthrough,
and I get carried away. “Well Emma, do you want to have the first dance?”
She looks straight at me, speaks real soft
to ensure no one else will hear. “Charlie, you and I are never going to dance;
we’re miles apart.”
“What does that mean?’
“This Justice Reborn is made for you.
Compassion minimized. You see everything in terms of black and white, guilty or
innocent, right or wrong. I live with a lot of grays.”
“Sounds like an introductory psychology
course review and still doesn’t explain anything.”
“Your reputation is a hard-nosed guy who
pushes staff, a man prepared to use his weapon, a relentless pursuer. How many
people have you shot in the course of your career? I understand during your
time on the force your record is littered with entries related to use of
excessive force, unprofessional conduct and a series of sessions with Internal
Affairs. No one else has come close to that record.”
“Sounds right and your point is?”
“I’ll bet you never lost a minute’s sleep
over any of this and next day arrive early at the station to receive the
applause from all the boys. No tears, no remorse. No doubts about any shooting,
just another criminal off the streets.”
At this point, I lose it and am not in the
mode for this liberal critique. “You got that right lady. When it goes down, I
don’t ask questions. And I never worry about any asshole who wants to kill me
or member of our group.”
This is a lie, but I wasn’t about to share
my problems with her. On occasion I do react violently, at least to some crimes,
a gut reaction like a reflex. Remorse sets in after, and when I close my eyes,
I still see each asshole in living color. It’s an irritating aftermath which I
can’t shake and don’t share, although it appears Sam and Monk are too
perceptive and understand what is happening.
“There you are. We’re miles apart. I hope
you have a delightful evening.”
carousel; the chatter is continuous and louder, as the wine is consumed
everyone becoming more animated. Red and I are cautious, and the conversation
is a little awkward and stilted, on both sides. My phone rings; it's Karen and
have to answer.
“Karen, where the hell are you? We’ve saved
a seat for you; the food is good but disappearing.”
She is excited. “Charlie, I’d been thinking
about your question, you know……. ‘why did Horny Harry bend down close to her
ear and whisper his instructions?’…….. I don’t think he has a partner. The son
of a bitch is too self-centered. My theory is: he is recording everything for
the future. He wants to replay and by whispering his instructions so they are
not heard, her comments will play back as voluntary. A low whisper will not be
heard. The video plays like she is really sincere, and all her comments sound
spontaneous. Coming from her without any coercion. On playback, he comes across
as a great lover.”
I think she is on to something, and she is
pleased. I minimize my challenge. “You think he may be creating a library of
his love conquests for a replay? The problem is your victim remembers it was
dark, really dark; this is not a great setting to produce a porno video.”
“Yes, I know. I chased down the one tech
who hasn’t left for Chinese supper. He tells me it is possible, for top quality
you need to get some specialized equipment. It comes in a miniaturized version
and can be mounted almost anyplace. The good news is: it’s expensive and only a
few shops in the city handle the gear. If our lover boy purchases locally, we
may be on to him.”
“You might be right. Harry is in love with
himself. Great thinking. Now come on down and I’ll buy you a drink. You know
the food is good.”
“I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”
I hang up. Red and I are alone at the
table; the others have all finished eating and have moved on to the bar or
dance floor. I’m feeling good because I think Karen may have made a breakthrough,
and I get carried away. “Well Emma, do you want to have the first dance?”
She looks straight at me, speaks real soft
to ensure no one else will hear. “Charlie, you and I are never going to dance;
we’re miles apart.”
“What does that mean?’
“This Justice Reborn is made for you.
Compassion minimized. You see everything in terms of black and white, guilty or
innocent, right or wrong. I live with a lot of grays.”
“Sounds like an introductory psychology
course review and still doesn’t explain anything.”
“Your reputation is a hard-nosed guy who
pushes staff, a man prepared to use his weapon, a relentless pursuer. How many
people have you shot in the course of your career? I understand during your
time on the force your record is littered with entries related to use of
excessive force, unprofessional conduct and a series of sessions with Internal
Affairs. No one else has come close to that record.”
“Sounds right and your point is?”
“I’ll bet you never lost a minute’s sleep
over any of this and next day arrive early at the station to receive the
applause from all the boys. No tears, no remorse. No doubts about any shooting,
just another criminal off the streets.”
At this point, I lose it and am not in the
mode for this liberal critique. “You got that right lady. When it goes down, I
don’t ask questions. And I never worry about any asshole who wants to kill me
or member of our group.”
This is a lie, but I wasn’t about to share
my problems with her. On occasion I do react violently, at least to some crimes,
a gut reaction like a reflex. Remorse sets in after, and when I close my eyes,
I still see each asshole in living color. It’s an irritating aftermath which I
can’t shake and don’t share, although it appears Sam and Monk are too
perceptive and understand what is happening.
“There you are. We’re miles apart. I hope
you have a delightful evening.”
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