few hours.”
“ She doesn't need to come down, sir,” he argued. “I was hoping she could finish with the murder book on Darnell.”
“ He's not going anywhere now,” Jack said dryly. “Stop fighting this, Wendell. It's already done. Call me if you get anything.”
He had hung up before Gary had a chance to answer. Gary moaned as he pulled to the far right lane of the freeway to exit, nearly sideswiping a white Denali. Blocking the shoulder was an old white guy driving an antique-looking Cadillac with a bumper sticker that read: TED KENNEDY'S CAR HAS KILLED MORE PEOPLE THAN MY GUN. Gary spotted an opening to his left and gunned his car into the tiny space. He muscled his way in front of the slower exit lane traffic, then pulled back in only to be stuck behind an old Ford truck with a lawnmower and some gardening supplies in the back. Gary didn't hesitate this time. He pulled onto the shoulder and drove around, earning hard stares from the two Mexicans wearing straw cowboy hats driving the truck.
Only in Los Angeles can you throw a lawnmower in the back of a truck and call yourself a landscaper, Gary thought.
He didn't mind people coming to this country and working hard. What bothered him was how many of them slid beneath the radar, operating fly-by-night businesses and not paying a dime of tax, but enjoying all the benefits of being in the United States. There was a work number on the side of the truck and he wrote it down, but guessed it was either a cellphone or disconnected. They usually were. Most of these guys didn't have driver's licenses, much less business licenses.
He exited and turned left, taking Venice to Highland and heading up through the heart of the city. By the time he reached Santa Monica Boulevard and was turning left he had contacted his new partner and given her all the details.
Sandra Wong was from a different school. Her father was a City Councilman and she'd used his influence with the Chief of Police to skyrocket her way through the department, landing herself the promotion to detective in record time. She wasn't above using her father's name, her race, or the fact that she was a woman to get ahead. She took every advantage she could get. On top of all that she also had an overbearing personality and almost no social graces. Pretty much everyone she'd ever come in contact with universally despised her. Gary had a bad feeling when his old partner, Larry White, had announced he had plans to retire the year before.
“You're not really going to pull the pin now, are you Larry?”
“ You bet your sweet ass I am, Wendell,” Larry shot back. “I'm tired of working my fingers to the bone and getting nothing back in return. I got a line on a sweet gig over on Oahu doing private security for one of the high-end resorts. Between that and my pension, I'm totally covered. I'm going to spend the rest of my days in paradise enjoying every second I can because I fucking deserve it. If I never see another dead fucking body again it will be too soon.”
“ Yeah, yeah, I know,” Gary grumbled, still looking for an edge to talk him out of his perfect plan. “There are no good steak houses over there. You know that, right? It's nothing but raw fish and spam and coconuts to eat.”
“ The place I'm going has Kobe beef imported from Japan,” White said, a smile blossoming on his face like he'd just declared checkmate. “They feed those cows warm beer and massage them right up until the moment they slit their throats. They say the meat is so tender it practically melts in your mouth like warm butter.”
Gary gave up after that. It was pointless. He didn't blame White for wanting a way out. After twenty years on the job most cops either retired and moved away for good, or ate their gun. He still wasn't sure what his final decision was going to be when his time came.
Less than three days later, Sandra was transferred from auto theft over to robbery homicide. Her father was a friend of the
“ She doesn't need to come down, sir,” he argued. “I was hoping she could finish with the murder book on Darnell.”
“ He's not going anywhere now,” Jack said dryly. “Stop fighting this, Wendell. It's already done. Call me if you get anything.”
He had hung up before Gary had a chance to answer. Gary moaned as he pulled to the far right lane of the freeway to exit, nearly sideswiping a white Denali. Blocking the shoulder was an old white guy driving an antique-looking Cadillac with a bumper sticker that read: TED KENNEDY'S CAR HAS KILLED MORE PEOPLE THAN MY GUN. Gary spotted an opening to his left and gunned his car into the tiny space. He muscled his way in front of the slower exit lane traffic, then pulled back in only to be stuck behind an old Ford truck with a lawnmower and some gardening supplies in the back. Gary didn't hesitate this time. He pulled onto the shoulder and drove around, earning hard stares from the two Mexicans wearing straw cowboy hats driving the truck.
Only in Los Angeles can you throw a lawnmower in the back of a truck and call yourself a landscaper, Gary thought.
He didn't mind people coming to this country and working hard. What bothered him was how many of them slid beneath the radar, operating fly-by-night businesses and not paying a dime of tax, but enjoying all the benefits of being in the United States. There was a work number on the side of the truck and he wrote it down, but guessed it was either a cellphone or disconnected. They usually were. Most of these guys didn't have driver's licenses, much less business licenses.
He exited and turned left, taking Venice to Highland and heading up through the heart of the city. By the time he reached Santa Monica Boulevard and was turning left he had contacted his new partner and given her all the details.
Sandra Wong was from a different school. Her father was a City Councilman and she'd used his influence with the Chief of Police to skyrocket her way through the department, landing herself the promotion to detective in record time. She wasn't above using her father's name, her race, or the fact that she was a woman to get ahead. She took every advantage she could get. On top of all that she also had an overbearing personality and almost no social graces. Pretty much everyone she'd ever come in contact with universally despised her. Gary had a bad feeling when his old partner, Larry White, had announced he had plans to retire the year before.
“You're not really going to pull the pin now, are you Larry?”
“ You bet your sweet ass I am, Wendell,” Larry shot back. “I'm tired of working my fingers to the bone and getting nothing back in return. I got a line on a sweet gig over on Oahu doing private security for one of the high-end resorts. Between that and my pension, I'm totally covered. I'm going to spend the rest of my days in paradise enjoying every second I can because I fucking deserve it. If I never see another dead fucking body again it will be too soon.”
“ Yeah, yeah, I know,” Gary grumbled, still looking for an edge to talk him out of his perfect plan. “There are no good steak houses over there. You know that, right? It's nothing but raw fish and spam and coconuts to eat.”
“ The place I'm going has Kobe beef imported from Japan,” White said, a smile blossoming on his face like he'd just declared checkmate. “They feed those cows warm beer and massage them right up until the moment they slit their throats. They say the meat is so tender it practically melts in your mouth like warm butter.”
Gary gave up after that. It was pointless. He didn't blame White for wanting a way out. After twenty years on the job most cops either retired and moved away for good, or ate their gun. He still wasn't sure what his final decision was going to be when his time came.
Less than three days later, Sandra was transferred from auto theft over to robbery homicide. Her father was a friend of the
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