Under a Raging Moon (12 page)

Johnny put another round of shots in front of them. Ridgeway raised his glass. “I’ll drink to that. “

“Me, too.”

“To hope,” Ridgeway said sarcastically. Both sipped.

“Hey, guys!” came a familiar voice. Janice Koslowski, a forty-one year old radio dispatcher, walked up to the bar and put her arm around Ridgeway’s shoulder. “My hero!” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek. Then, looking at Gio, she reached out and put her other arm around him. “You too, tall, dark and slutty.”

Gio grinned, but glanced toward the blonde. She hadn’t n
o
ticed him.

“What are you doing here?” Ridgeway asked her. “Shouldn’t you be a
s
leep?”

“Night off,” Janice told him, pushing back her long brown hair and smiling. “I stopped in to pick up my paycheck and heard the news. Nice job, fellas.”

Ridgeway took a sip from his shot glass. “Yeah, did they tell you we almost got killed?”

Janice looked upset. “What?!”

Ridgeway nodded. “Yeah. Rookie dispatcher completely screwed up on the call. Almost got us killed.”

“How?” Janice demanded. “Who was it? What happened.

“It was terrible,” Ridgeway said. He took another sip from his glass. “Now, if only we’d had a veteran dispatcher . . .”

“Oh, nice!” Janice slapped his shoulder hard. “You had me going for a second.”

Ridgeway chuckled. Gio raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn’t seen him do that in a while.

Janice shook her head, smiling. “Well, I see one thing hasn’t changed since I went to graveyard. Mark Ridgeway is still a mean S.O.B.”

Ridgeway raised his near-empty shot glass. “At your service, ma’am. Have a drink with me?”

Janice grinned. “Mark, I don’t know. With you, it is never just one.”

“Can’t have just one. It gets lonely in my stomach. Wants company. Gotta send it some of its brothers.”

Janice’s smile didn’t fade. “Okay, mister. I’ll have
one.”
She motioned to Johnny and pointed at Ridg
e
way’s glass and gave Johnny one finger.

“It’ll get loh-ohnllyyy...” Ridgeway crooned.

Jack Stone began to sing “One is the loneliest number...”

“Shut up and tell me what really happened,” Janice chuckled.

Gio slipped from the stool and walked toward Marilyn. He heard Janice and Ridgeway pause briefly—probably to watch him go—then Janice asked Ridg
e
way for all the ‘dirty details.’

Marilyn sat alone, sipping from a small glass. She noticed his approach about two steps away, her eyes inviting but ca
u
tious.

What do I say?

“Hello,” she said, her voice friendly.

“Hello,” Gio answered. “Can I, uh, sit with you for a few minutes?”

She paused, considering. Then, “Sure. I’m only planning to stay until I finish this drink, though.”

Gio sat across from her.
God, she’s beautiful.
He’d only gotten a brief look that first night and his exper
i
ence taught that imagination generally fills in what you don’t see. Unfortunately, imagination tends to be optimi
s
tic and reality often disappoin
t
ing. Not in her case, though. She looked even lovelier than he remembered.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Anthony. Giovanni. My friends call me Gio.”

“I’m Marilyn.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Now what I am supposed to say?

Gio wiped his sweaty palms on the front of his jeans. He was afraid to use a line on her, afraid to bullshit with her like he did with all the bunnies that usually came in here. It hit him like a slap up the side of the head when he realized he had little to say without those lines.

There was an uncomfortable pause. They looked at each other and Gio thought he saw something in her eyes.
Does she feel this, too?
Already? This . . . pull?

The pause went on long enough to outlive its own discomfort and became an easy silence. Both sipped their drinks. Marilyn finally broke the s
i
lence.

“This is a good song.”

Gio listened to the song drifting from the jukebox. He recognized St
e
vie Nicks’ sultry voice.

“Very good song.” He felt like an idiot. What was the name of the song? He’d heard it a million times, but he couldn’t think of the title.
White Winged Dove
or something?

She smiled at his obvious nervousness, took another sip and finished her drink. Gio panicked. She had said she was leaving after that drink—

Marilyn dug in her purse, removed her wallet, and dropped some money on the table. Then she looked up at Gio and smiled again.

“Listen,” she said. “I have to go. I’m meeting a girlfriend.”

Gio nodded glumly. He wanted to ask her out but knew he hadn’t laid the groundwork, knew he would only stumble over his own tongue.
You blew it,
he told himself angrily.

Marilyn took a pen from her purse. She met Gio’s gaze.

Those eyes!

“Maybe we could go out to lunch sometime?” She smiled.

He sat there, shocked. He took so long to answer that a shadow of disappointment crossed her face. She dropped her gaze and started to put her pen away.

“Yes!” Gio answered too forcefully. She looked up. Gio softened his voice. “I mean, yes. Thank you. You just took me by surprise.”

She seemed to accept that. “What’s your phone number?” she asked. “I’ll call you in a few days?”

“Okay.” He gave her the number.

“See you.” She slid out of the booth.

“Bye.”

Marilyn gave him a smile and left. He followed her to the door with his eyes, watching her leave. It was only then that he realized how fast his heart was beating.

SIX

Sunday, August 21st

Graveyard Shift

2113 hours

Kopriva left the roll call room and walked downstairs to the records desk on the main floor. With Scarface out of co
m
mission, it figured to be a slower night. Maybe he’d chase some warrants. Newly issued warrants were stacked by the counter for officers to look at until the records personnel found time to input them into the compu
t
er system. Kopriva thumbed through the pile.

“Hi, Stef,” came a female voice from behind the counter.

Kopriva looked up to see Maria Soledad smiling at him. The thirty-year-old Puerto Rican woman had the longest and darkest hair Kopriva had ever seen.
He smiled back.

“Hi, Maria.
Cómo Estás
?
”

“Bien. Y
tú
?”

“Good,” he replied, having just about reached the limit of his Spa
n
ish-speaking skills.

“Did you hear they caught that robber?”

Kopriva nodded, perusing the warrants. “Yeah. Can you believe it was a bunch of day-shifters that did it?”

“Well, they have more experience, don’t they?”

“Yeah, I suppose, when they want to work. I think coffee is the hig
h
est priority for some of them.”

“Oh, Stef, you’re being mean.
Tú eres malo.
”

“Call ’em as I see ’em,” Kopriva said. He pulled a felony drug warrant for a man named Martin Belzer from the stack and handed it to Maria. “Could you run him up for me?”

“Sure.” Maria sat at her desk and quickly entered the name into the computer. It amazed Kopriva how fast she could type. She waited several minutes for the system to come back with a response.

“You type too fast for the computer,
Señora.
”

“Ten words per minute would be too fast for this system,” Maria re
p
lied.

“Government spending at its best,” Kopriva joked.

“
Es la verdad
,” she said absently. “Looks like you hit the jackpot on this one. In addition to this felony hit here, he has another felony warrant for drugs, plus three misdemeanor warrants.”

“So five total?”

“No, actually seven,” she answered, staring at the screen. “Here’s two more misdemeanor hits out of Sea
t
tle. And they’re extraditable, too.”

“Great. Can you print that off for me and confirm the local ones?”

Maria hit several keys and a printer began to buzz next to her compu
t
er. “You want a picture of Mr. Ten Most Wanted?”

“Maria, you are a dream.”

“More like a nightmare,” she chuckled, calling up a booking photo of Martin Belzer and printing it. She handed the printout and the black-and-white photo to Kopriva. “I’ll check the file and be back in a few.”

“Great. Thanks.”

Kopriva looked at the printout. Belzer’s listed address was 1814 N. Quincey, in Adam Sector. He should probably have an Adam Sector officer go with him. Maybe Chisolm or—

“Hey, Stef, what’s up?” Katie MacLeod appeared at his side and reached for the warrant stack. “You fi
n
ished with these?”

“Yeah. I already found my gold mine.” He waved the pi
c
ture of Belzer.

“Really? How’s that?”

“Mr. Belzer here has a butt-load of warrants.”

“A
butt-load
? I see. Is that more or less than an ass-full?”

Kopriva considered. “I think it’s the metric conversion.”

Katie laughed. “Very funny. How many does he have?”

“Seven. Two of ’em are felony drug. His last known address is in Adam Sector. You want to come along?”

“Sure. I have to give Kevin a call first, though.”

“Oh, I see.” Kopriva made a whip-cracking sound.

Katie smacked him on the arm. “Shut-up. He said it was important.”

“Okay, okay.” Kopriva raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll meet you at the elementary school there at Monroe and Ma
x
well.”

“Okay. See you.” Katie walked away.

Kopriva made the whip-crack noise again. Katie stuck her hand in the middle of her back and gave him the finger.

“Such an angry finger,” Maria tut-tutted as she returned from the warrant confirmation. “What on earth did you say to her?”

Kopriva shrugged. “I dunno. Who knows with women? Right, Maria?”

“You better watch it, or I will give these warrants to som
e
one else.”

Kopriva bowed. “
Perdóneme.
I am an insensitive male.”

Maria gave him a smile. “In that case, your warrants are confirmed.
Buena suerte
.”

Kopriva thanked her and left.

2130 hours

“Come on, Janice! One more!”

Janice shook her head. “No more, Mark. I gotta get going.”

“Come on!” Ridgeway argued. “It’s early yet.”

“Early if you started at seven,” Janice told him, slipping on her coat. Gio and Stone had left an hour ago. They probably thought they were doing her a favor by leaving her alone with Ridgeway. They weren’t. She’d heard about Ridgeway’s wife and the fireman. There was no way she was ge
t
ting involved with a cop. Not again, and not with one on the rebound. “You’ve been here since four o’clock. It’s nine-thirty now. It’s time to go.”

“Fine. Go.”

“You should leave, too,” she said. “I’ll call you a cab.”

“I’m fine,” Ridgeway said. “I’ll drink coffee for awhile and drive home.”

Janice shook her head. “There isn’t enough coffee in C
o
lombia to sober you up, Mark.”

“I’m not taking a cab,” he said, getting his back up. “It’s degra
d
ing.”

Janice resisted the urge to argue. It would just cause him to get more stubborn, anyway. “Okay. How about I drive you home?”

Ridgeway glanced up. His drunken gaze penetrated her, and she felt a pang in her stomach.
Another time, another place
.

“People will talk,” Ridgeway told her, his tone playful.

Janice snorted. “A grizzled veteran police officer once told me how to respond to people talking like that.”

“How?”

“I think he said, ‘Screw ’em.’ Or something equally el
o
quent.”

Ridgeway grinned. “Yeah. Screw ’em. I like that. Who told you that?”

Janice chuckled. “Some idiot.”

“Who?”

“You.”

Ridgeway let out a hearty laugh. He finished his drink in a gulp. “All right, Jan. You win. Let’s go.”

Janice reached into her purse, but Ridgeway waved her action away. He tossed a twenty on the bar and raised his hand to Johnny. The bartender waved back, a hint of relief showing on his face. Despite not seeming overly concerned, Janice knew the bartender had been monitoring the situation.

Outside in the parking lot, the warm night air smelled of weak beer and auto fumes. Janice tried to hold Ridgeway by the arm to support him, but he must have found that degrading as well. Instead, he slipped his arm around her shoulders. That fulfilled the same purpose of allowing her to support him, so she didn’t protest.

When they reached her Saturn coupe, she unlocked the passenger door and Ridgeway flopped onto the front seat. She swung his legs in with little help from him and shut the door. Then she went around to the driver’s side, got in and started the car.

Ridgeway sat silently as they drove, his eyes fixed straight ahead. Then he turned slowly to Janice and asked with a snarl, “Is this a little Jap car?”

“No.”

He didn’t seem to hear her answer. “Because if this was made by those little market-greedy zipper-heads, you can just let me out right now. Little yellow bastards. Shot up my Dad in World War II, killed my brother in ’Nam. Tried to shoot me in ’Nam, but couldn’t do it. Then you know what they did?”

“Mark—”

He slapped the dashboard, ignoring her. “The little sons
a
bitches came over here and bought the auto plant my Dad worked. Then they laid him off. Maybe they were pissed about not killing him in the war and thought they’d come over here and finish the job.”

“Mark—”

“Worked, too. He died six months after he got laid off.”

“Mark!”

Ridgeway turned to her, surprise registering on his face. “What? You don’t have to yell, Jan.”

Janice took a deep breath and let it out. “This car is a S
a
turn. It’s not Japanese. It’s made in the USA. And there’s a difference between Jap
a
nese and Vietnamese. They’re two completely different—”

“Made in the USA? No kidding?”

“Yes. Mark, you know all this. I know you know cars.”

Ridgeway shrugged. “It’s not the same as it used to be. Cars used to have a particular look to them, a di
s
tinctive style. Now they all look alike. There’s a thousand makes and models now. Nothing is the same as it used to be.” He shook his head, then repeated softly, “Nothing.”

Janice didn’t answer. She continued to drive.

Ridgeway was quiet a long while, then asked her, “Really now, this is made in the USA?”

Janice nodded. “Made in Tennessee.”

“No kidding. You’re my kind of girl, Janice, driving an American car.” He turned in his seat. “Hey, do you have a gun at home?”

“Of course.”

His eyebrows went up slightly. “What kind?”

“A .357 magnum.”

He nodded his approval. “Nice gun. Smith and Wesson?”

“I think so. Why?”

“Just wondering.” Ridgeway sighed. When he spoke, his words slurred noticeably. “You are just about the perfect woman, Janice. Are you an NRA member?”

“No. I’m not into politics. Every two years I vote for the person I think will do the best job. That’s about it.”

“Well, everyone has a flaw,” Ridgeway mused. “But damn near the pe
r
fect woman. I should have married you, Janice.”

“You’re drunker than a skunk.”

“Maybe so, but I still should have married you.”

Janice drove the rest of the way to Ridgeway’s house without saying another word. She didn’t want to remind him that the chance had been there sixteen years ago. Or that she hadn’t seemed so perfect to him then.

Ridgeway’s house stood in the middle of the 5000 block of North Atla
n
tic. It was a typical two-bedroom, middle class rancher, perfect for a couple with no kids. Janice pulled up in front and shut off her lights. She looked at Ridgeway, who now dozed in the passenger’s seat.

Somehow, Janice got him awake and walked him clumsily to the front door. She found his keys in his jacket pocket and let them inside. Ridgeway staggered through the door and flopped onto the couch.

The house struck her as surprisingly well-kept for a house with a si
n
gle male living in it. The dishes were done in the kitchen. She filled a glass with tap water, then went into the bathroom. Except for a towel on the floor in the corner, it, too, was clean. She found aspirin in the medicine chest above the sink and returned to the living room.

Ridgeway hadn’t moved. She nudged him.

“Here, take these aspirin.”

“Hmmmmmm?”

“C’mon, Mark. You’re gonna feel like hell in the morning as it is. Take the aspirin.”

“Mmmmmm.” Mark sat up squinting. With her help, he took the three tablets and a swallow of water. Then he flopped back onto the couch.

Janice removed his shoes and lifted his feet off of the floor and onto the cushions. In the hall closet she found a light blanket. Back in the living room, she covered him with it.

“Goodnight, my little robber-catcher.” She kissed him lightly above his eyebrow.

“‘Night, Alice,” Ridgeway murmured.

Janice tried not to be hurt, but failed. Without being quite as gentle, she tucked the blanket around him, dropped his keys on the small table by the door and locked it behind her.

She drove toward home.
Stupid
.
I’m so stupid.
She turned on the car radio. Some bubble-gum pop music filled the small car. Janice forced herself to sing along and tried not to think.

2148 hours

Kopriva waited in the parking lot of the elementary school, surprised at how late Katie was. He’d checked with radio to see if she was checked into service yet and she wasn’t. That phone call from her boyfriend must have been a long one.