Book Four: Part 8 - Rhyming Evil - Chapter 16
Tuesday – July 17th
Baker’s Office – 8:47 a.m.
The meeting had gone smoothly enough, and Baker gave everyone the good news that Johnathan was awake enough this morning to eat a very light breakfast but that he was still groggy.
Baker joked when she said this was his way of getting out of qualifying at Brewster’s this Thursday.
“Hell, pass him by proxy, already.”
“Actually, Clauson, we’ve already agreed to that a year ago. In the event any officer is wounded in the line of duty, he will be exempt for one year to qualify. So he gets a legitimate pass.”
“How come I had to qualify?” asked J.W.
“J.W., if your injury took place during this period, you’d get a pass, but since it was…”
After the meeting, she excused Dianne from duty for the rest of the day. Baker would run her route.
Lowery and Banyard were relieved of duty pending an investigation into the shooting death of both boys. Summarily, so would Johnathan. In all likelihood, as Baker and Satchell told both men it was just a formality and they expected it to be without incident reports being filed or charges brought up.
Before she was ready to leave, Baker walked into Satchell’s office. He looked up at her.
“Uh-oh, I see that look in your eyes. What’s inside that pretty little head of yours?”
“Oh, just thinking of taking Prescott’s and Andrew’s route for the day.”
“Everything else caught up, already?”
“Today’s just a normal day, Satch. But—I got to thinking; if I run this route alone, I could find myself in a jam, and it would sure be nice if I had me a big, strong man in the car with me.”
Satchell started laughing. “That was the worse Mae West impression I ever heard!”
“So what? C’mon, Satch. Getting back on the streets for one day will do you some good. Besides, deep down you know you miss the streets.”
“You have me there. What the hell, if nothing else, it’ll show the Twenty-Second I’m not all desk and memo’s. Let’s hit it.”
Austin, Texas – 3:15 p.m.
Edward Carter just finished a television taping with Diane Sayers. They had spent twenty minutes talking about his latest release and then Edward brought out that his publisher has already guaranteed him a large undisclosed advance to write a biographical novel on a small city in New York, called Montie.
His plans were to begin from Montie’s earliest inception and history, along with all the changes that occurred and not just through the Civil War, but also changes made by modern business thinking and politics; the drive to continue in some of New York’s toughest times as well as the effect of every war that changed the nation and Montie as a whole.
Carter would delve and dig deep to uncover names that made a difference with a small city rich in its own birthright. Included in the scheme of things would be all the recent events that have happened, and still, as he put it, “Such a quaint, but very lovely small city which has been engaged in some very bizarre crimes; yet has managed to always land on its feet. The history, the people, the background, and a killer still on the loose; I promise you; this will be a story you will not stop reading once you get started.”
In one more month, the tour would come to an end and he would begin the book; the one story that would embed his name in the minds of readers for years to come.
The Twenty-Second Precinct – 4:45 p.m.
“See there, Satch; a do-nothing, quiet kind of day.”
“If you say so. I guess helping old Mrs. Warner’s flat tire being changed and listening to her rant and rave how back in the 40s everything was cheaper, even tires./ Then she went on about groceries and wine. I thought she would never stop. And you—you just sat in the car grinning the whole time.”
“It wasn’t that bad now, was it? Besides, she didn’t need the two of us to change one tire.”
“Oh, but it got worse if you remember. Mrs. Oldermyer and her damn cat in the tree.”
“Okay, I can understand that one. Cat nearly hit her when you were able to free it between the limbs and then jumped out onto her front lawn.”
“Then she damn near dragged me from the car to a tree to begin with to get her precious Adella. I’m just grateful the tree wasn’t very tall. I’m beginning to see I’m getting too old for all these heroics.”
“Look at it this way Satchell,. what you do now leaves a lasting impression for those who want to follow in your footsteps .”
“Is that right.” Satchell cocked an eyebrow. How about if you just get in your red frilly thing there and go home and don't you dare mention what happened today in the meeting tomorrow morning.”
After parking the police car on the yard, she hopped in her Hummer and drove home. She couldn't help but smile. She knew Satchell was loving today.
In his office, if Baker had heard his words she would know just how right she was.
“Best damn day since the day I took this job.”
Johnson County Memorial – 5:12 p.m.
On and off throughout the day, Jonathan and Diane would talk. She would hold his hands. On and off, Jonathan would fall back to sleep. Other times, Jonathan would be visited by a nurse to check his IV, temp, blood pressure, heart rate and his newly sewn wounds. After which, she gave him his medication.
When Johnathan was wide awake, his eyes would light up and his smile, for as weak as he still was, would radiate a glow seeing Dianne sitting across from him.
He tried to explain what happened and what went down but Dianne hushed him. Another time, she whispered. He whispered a promise he would never get hurt on the job again. She believed him.
Baker-Manning Home
111 Homestead Lane – 6:56 p.m.
Stevie talked about helping the next door neighbor, cleaning out his garage. The Lister’s are getting ready for a garage sale.
Ed spoke about his therapy session with Mrs. Peterson.
“She was a little upset I haven’t started the reflexive therapy yet, but I explained to her how things have been a bit crazy lately and that this weekend we would get started.
“She threw a dozen tennis balls my way. I tried to catch them, but the ah—I mean, my arm wasn’t quick enough to think grab the ball, and my hand would close too early, too late, or only close a little bit. But she said even that was progress.”
Then it was Baker’s turn.
“Today was wonderful. No violence. No one dead. I took Satchell with me on the West End run; Prescott and Andrews route. You should have seen him. As much as he complained about things, you could see it in his eyes he enjoyed being back on the streets.”
Then she went on to tell them about Mrs. Oldermyer and her cat and changing Mrs. Warner’s tired and what Satchell had to listen to in the process.
It just made the day, special.
1125 Clearfield Street – 7:30 p.m.
“What the hell. The worse he can do is say no.’
He held onto his cell phone and listened to a ring tone six times. He was about to shut his phone down, when an out of breath voice said hello.
“I almost gave up hope you would answer, Patrick. This is J.W.”
“Oh, hello, J.W. Is there something wrong?”
“No, not at all. I called because I’d like us to get together and have lunch this Saturday at the Jazz Club and listen to some good music while we have some great food at the same time.”
“Are you sure that is a good idea? What about Michael Collins?”
“What about him? He and I aren’t committed to each other. He isn’t really what I’m looking for.”
“And I am?”
“Honestly? Maybe. Hell, I don’t know but I do know I would like to get to know you better and see if the person I believe you to be is underneath all that skin you wear.”
Patrick chuckled.
“What time, then? And where is this Jazz Club? I’ve not seen that place at all.”
“I’m thinking about one. It’s hard to spot because it sits in the middle of a dead-end street. It’s the only business on Ralstar. It’s off Mackay Avenue. 670 Ralstar.”
Patrick was quickly scribbling the address down.
“Okay, off Mackay, okay, I got it. I guess we’ll see each other Saturday. Thanks so much for calling, J.W.”
“Take care and be safe, Patrick.”
Both men hung up. Patrick thinking that maybe, just maybe, this could be the one to heal his heart, and move forward to build on a new relationship. A new life.
J.W. wasn’t yet sure if he were doing the right thing, but he and Patrick both knew the terrible gut-wrenching pain of losing someone you love. And Patrick is an educated man, very intelligent, has his own business, and appears to know what he wants from life. This was a major deal for J.W. If they clicked it wouldn’t take away their independence, but rather strengthen it.
To J.W., lunch Saturday would either be the start toward a new beginning, or the end of a bad idea.