Inheritance: A Novel Part 3

"Outstanding," Garwin said. "Marriage is a wonderful thing. I liked it so much I did it four times."

Paul blinked at him, and both Garwin and Mike laughed.

"I'm trying to catch up with Mike here," Garwin said.

Paul looked at Mike, who shrugged.

"How about kids?" Garwin asked.

"None."

"That's okay. Where'd you come from, college or the military?"

"College," Paul said. "UTSA."

"Major?"

"Criminal Justice."

"That figures. You play ball?"

"Yes, sir," Paul said.

"What'd you play?"

"Linebacker."

"You any good?"

"I was okay, sir. Not good enough to go pro, but pretty good."

"Well, the fact that you played college ball is still pretty impressive. I like it when my officers can take care of themselves."

Paul nodded. "I hope to do just that, sir."

"I'm sure you will, bud. There's only a couple things I ask."

Paul waited.

"First off, don't be late to roll call. I hate that. Secondly, turn in good reports. Mike here will help you with what I want. And if you screw up, admit it. I really hate it when officers don't accept responsibility for their actions. That's big with me. I get enough of that stupidity from the public, so I definitely don't want it from my own officers. Besides, if you do screw up-and it's gonna happen, believe me-I can help you out of it as long as you tell me the truth up front. If you lie to me...well, don't do that, okay? If you lie to me, I'll hang you out to dry."

"Understood," Paul said.

"Outstanding. Now the two of you need to get out there."

Mike nodded.

Paul looked from his new partner to Garwin. It took him a moment to realize he was being dismissed.

Still feeling confused, he nodded, then rose to his feet.

Mike motioned to Paul to follow him and they both turned to go. They made it as far as the doorway before Garwin stopped them.

"Hey Mike..." he said.

"Yes sir?"

"Do me a favor, would you, bud?"

"What's that, sir?"

Garwin suddenly looked uncomfortable. He had the same slumped shoulder aspect he had just a few moments earlier with Detective Anderson.

Strong-willed subordinates scare him, Paul realized then. Detective Anderson, and Mike here, they scared Garwin.

"Yes sir?" Mike said.

Garwin wouldn't look at him. He fidgeted with a pen on his desk, glanced at his computer monitor. He seemed to be looking everywhere but at Mike, refusing to meet the officer's smiling face.

Finally he said, "Barris told me somebody put a pa.s.sed out homeless guy in the backseat of their car while they were at lunch. Apparently, the guy vomited all over the car. You know anything about that?"

Mike looked shocked, but not convincingly so. "Who, me? No, sir."

"Uh huh. Listen, no more pranks on him, okay? I mean it. Some guys just can't take a joke."

Mike gave him a flyboy salute. "You got it, sir."

But when he turned back to Paul he winked.

They headed out the back door, towards the parking lot behind the substation where East Patrol's squad cars were parked.

"That's our car over there," Mike said. "You got your gear with you?"

"It's in my truck."

"Okay. We'll get it in a bit. For now, let's just wait."

"For what?"

"You'll see." Mike stood there for a moment, hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. Then, abruptly, he turned to Paul and said, "Hey, what were you doing with that coin before roll call?"

Paul took the Barber out of his pocket. "Coin tricks," he said, and handed the Barber to Mike.

"It's heavier than it looks."

"It's a Barber fifty piece," Paul said.

"Why do they call it a Barber?"

"It's named after Charles E. Barber. He was the head engraver at the U.S. Mint for a while."

Mike held the coin up to the sodium vapor lights. "Nineteen-oh-one?" he said, reading the date at the bottom. "d.a.m.n. Is this thing valuable?"

"Not really. They made a bunch of them. That one's not even close to mint condition. And even if it was, it'd only be worth a few bucks."

"Yeah, well, something that old is still pretty cool."

He handed it back to Paul. "Hey, show me a trick. We got a minute."

Paul was used to this. People who saw the tricks he could do always asked for more. He flicked the coin into the air, caught it, then rolled it back and forth over the back of his knuckles and dropped it into his palm. He waved the other hand over it and the Barber disappeared. He waved the hand back again and the Barber reappeared.

"Bad a.s.s," Mike said. "Do another one."

Paul made the coin disappear again. He held up his hands and showed Mike his palms, turned them over, showed him the backs of his hands. Then he reached into his s.h.i.+rt pocket and fished around.

His smile faded.

"Hmmm," he said.

"What's wrong? Didn't work?"

Paul took his hand out of his pocket. No coin.

"That's weird," Paul said.

Mike smiled patiently. "You wanna try it again?"

"No," Paul said, still frowning. He looked on the ground. "It's around here somewhere."

"I didn't hear it drop," Mike said. He started looking around on the ground, too.

"No. Me either. Hey, check your pocket. Maybe you got it."

Mike gave him an amused, Yeah, right look. He reached into his pocket and felt the coin. "Holy s.h.i.+t!" He pulled out the coin and looked at it, dumbfounded. "How'd you do that? I didn't even feel you put it in my pocket."

Paul smiled and took the coin.

"Seriously, that was amazing. How'd you do that?"

Paul shrugged.

"You gotta show me how to do that," Mike said.

"Okay." He was about to take it out again and show Mike the basic palm hide when Mike stopped him.

"Wait a sec. I want you to meet these guys."

They had drifted over to their car and were standing by the trunk, Mike nodding at two officers walking across the parking lot towards them.

"I hang out with these guys a lot," Mike said. "They're the regular 44-60."

"And we're 44-70, right?"

Mike nodded.

"Paul, meet Wes and Collins."

Wes was Wesley Stokes. He had to be six-eight, and was probably pus.h.i.+ng three hundred pounds. He wore his sandy brown hair in a tight crew cut that made his head look small and bullet-shaped.

"Hey," he said to Paul. He shook Paul's hand, his hand swallowing Paul's, which was an odd feeling for somebody accustomed to being the biggest guy in the room, then turned away and started checking Facebook on his phone.

Paul turned to the other officer. His name was Chris Collins. He was squat and muscular, box-shaped, with an almost perfect helmet of black hair slicked back with what had to be a gallon of gel. He stood with his hands crossed over his chest, chewing on his lip, an expression on his face that suggested all of this was a big ha.s.sle he didn't need.

"How's it going?" Paul said, offering him his hand.

"f.u.c.king c.r.a.ppy."

Paul blinked.

Collins didn't smile. "Every day I gotta come back to this h.e.l.lhole f.u.c.king sucks."

Paul just stared at him.

Mike gave Paul a nudge. "Ignore him." He turned to Collins. "Tone it down for the new guy, would you?"

"Why? He's gonna find out how much this place f.u.c.king sucks soon enough."

"This guy, he makes a career out of b.i.t.c.hing," Mike said. "I'm about to start calling him Monica, after my ex-wife. She was a little b.i.t.c.h, too."

"Yeah, I got your little b.i.t.c.h right here."

Mike laughed at him. "Wes, were they in there?"

Wes put his phone back in his s.h.i.+rt pocket and chuckled a little. "Yeah. They should be coming out here in a sec."

Even Collins cracked a smile.

These three guys, Paul sensed, were old friends. They were tight. He could tell it just by listening to them.

"What's going on?" Paul asked.

"First lesson of survival out here," Mike said. "What I do, whenever this job drives me so f.u.c.king nuts I can't stand myself, is pull a good prank on Barris and Seles. Keeping those two in misery boosts my morale."

The four of them stood in a huddle. From where he stood Paul had a view of Barris and Seles walking across the parking lot to their patrol car. Barris put his gear bag down on the ground next to the trunk and fished through his key chain for the right keys. Seles glanced down at his car and scratched his head.

And then he dropped his gear bag and said something to Barris, who stopped what he was doing and looked at what his partner was pointing at.