LITMIR.BIZ

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academy acquaintance. There was also Slick Rick Bederman and his partner, Sean Amory. Bederman was solidly built with dark eyes and thick, curly hair, his face, as always, stamped with arrogance. She had met him once at a party … hadn’t liked the way he had looked at her. Amory was lighter in his coloring, but also projected ’tude. Beaudry must have caught her ambivalence. He said, “Feel like being social?”

      “Maybe later.”

      They ordered their beers, then took a booth, sipping for a few moments without talking. Beaudry was beating time to the music, fingertips drumming the table. It was soft jazz, the sax singing in a breathy voice which teased like foreplay.

      Finally, Beaudry said, “So you did all right today.”

      “Thanks.”

      “Chalk one up for the good guys.”

      Cindy said, “Are we the good guys? You wouldn’t know it by reading the papers.”

      Beaudry waved her off. “This ain’t the first scandal and it won’t be the last.”

      “That’s too bad.”

      “Yeah, I suppose.” Beaudry picked up his mug. “Still, I’m not losing sleep over it. So you’re sure you’re okay with today?”

      “I’m okay with it.” Cindy managed a smile. “I doubt if Tropper’s okay with it. So he’s pissed at me. He’s not the first, he won’t be the last.”

      Beaudry raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

      “What?” Cindy asked. “You’re gonna give me some advice?”

      “If you’re okay with it, I’ve got nothing to offer.”

      “So why’re you looking at me like that?”

      “Like what?”

      “Like I’ve got herpes—”

      “You’re being touchy, Decker. I’m not looking at you at all. And if I was looking at you, I wouldn’t be thinking about herpes. I’d be thinking that you look good in that black pantsuit outfit you’re wearing. That it goes good with your hair, which looks pretty when it’s loose.” He sipped beer. “That wasn’t a come-on. I’ve got a marriage, and I want to make it last. That’s just an old-fashioned, blue-collar compliment, so don’t go filing any sexual harassment complaints.”

      “I look good tonight?”

      “You look good tonight.”

      “Thanks.” Cindy took another sip of suds, then licked the foam off her lips. “So you think I fucked up?”

      “Nah, you didn’t fuck up as far as the incident goes. You handled the situation pretty good.” He looked around at nothing. “Nah, you didn’t fuck up with the situation.”

      “But I fucked up with Tropper!” Cindy tapped her toe. “Do you think I fucked up with Tropper?”

      “Not exactly—”

      “What does that—”

      “Wait, wait, wait!” Beaudry held out his palms in a stop sign. “Give me a sec, okay. You didn’t fuck up with him, meaning that he isn’t gonna make a federal case out of it. But you might think of doing something nice for him.”

      “Like what?” She sneered. “Getting him coffee? One lump or two—”

      “Don’t be a brat. Just … think about it.”

      She laughed. “I haven’t been called a brat in a while.”

      “But you’ve been called one before.”

      “Oh yeah.”

      “It’s written all over your face, Decker. ‘I am a brat. Not only a brat, but a snotty, educated brat.’”

      Cindy maintained the smile, but the eyes dimmed. “That’s how you see me?”

      “No, that’s not how I see you.” Beaudry sighed. “It’s just that you’re out there, Decker. Like today. You put yourself … out there. Right in the firing line. And when you’re out there, people notice you. Like Tropper.”

      “It worked.”

      “That’s not the point.”

      “Silly me, I thought it was.”

      Beaudry wiped suds off his mouth with his sleeve. “Listen, we don’t have to be talking about this. We can talk about other stuff. You tell me your gossip, I’ll tell you mine. I’m just trying to … you know. Tell you like it is.”

      She averted her stare. “Look, Graham, no offense, but I’m not in the mood to be dissected.”

      “That’s fair enough.”

      “On the other hand, no sense being on the outs with Tropper.” She stared at her beer. “What should I do for him?”

      Beaudry looked around, then called her closer. She leaned in, elbows on the table.

      He said, “Tropper isn’t a stupid man—”

      “I didn’t say he—”

      “Just shut up and listen, okay?” He lowered his voice. “He isn’t stupid, Cin. He’s got great street smarts. He knows how people operate.”

      He waited. Cindy said, “I’m listening.”

      “If you ask him to recount an incident, he’s crystal. He can recap from A to Z in perfect detail. The problem comes when he tries to write it down in a report. He’s a fish out of water. It takes him centuries to finish his forms. Writing confuses him. He gets things out of order—”

      “He can’t sequence?”

      “Something like that. He’s constantly rewriting his reports because the old ones are always messy-looking.”

      “Why doesn’t he just use Word?” she asked. “You know … cut and paste?”

      “He has trouble with computers. The keyboard confuses him.” Beaudry finished his first brew, held up a finger, signaling the waitress for a second. “Computers probably aren’t your problem, right?”

      “Not word processing.”

      “And I don’t imagine you have trouble with report writing, either.”

      “I find it mind-numbing, but it’s not difficult. I did lots of papers in college. I usually outlined them before I wrote. You know, occasionally, I’ll still outline a report if the incident was complicated—lots of people coming and going. You might suggest he try that.”

      “I don’t suggest anything to Tropper, and you shouldn’t either. I think the Sarge got into the academy with a GED. So now you know why he sneers at you.”

      Beaudry locked eyes with her.

      “It’s something you should be aware of, Cindy. The guys and gals you’re working with are the salt of America. Lots of us are ex-military. We’re G-workers who hate the nine-to-five, but still want a good pension. You’re from another planet—a college brat who somehow wandered into law enforcement. Not only college, but a private college—”

      “Let’s not forget an Ivy Leaguer.”

      “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—”

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