Read Online On The Beat (Goosey Larsen Book 3) by James Vachowski - Free Book Online
Authors: James Vachowski
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sentry manning a fixed post. Usually that place is directly in front of the Wild Wings bar and grill where my presence helps discourage any potential underage drinking, and it sure doesn’t hurt one bit that the perch also provides me with the best view of all the drunken college girls gliding past.
That night, though, I felt a certain force of gravity pulling me back towards my home base at the parking garage. I was almost certain that Lieutenant Shivers owed me a couple hours of time off for some reason or other, although the specific circumstances escaped me. And even though I technically should have gotten express permission to take the comp time that I’d almost certainly earned, it would have been more than a little inconsiderate to call the boss over such a trivial matter so late at night. With that in mind, I made a command decision to act as my own supervisor and pull myself out of service. It didn’t hurt one bit that going home early would also keep me from having to arrest any drunks once all the bars kicked their customers out on the street at closing time. Yeah, the way I saw it, leaving work early was just my way of helping keep America’s youth from blemishing their bright futures with misdemeanor DUI charges.
My car surprised me by starting on the first try, so I sat there for a moment as the engine warmed up. I fished around and found my wallet, which felt surprisingly thin in my hand, but my stomach sank even further once I opened it and saw just a single picture of George Washington staring back at me with a stern green glare printed across his pasty white face. The strong facial expression had probably been designed to remind people of the value of a dollar, but that night it only served as one more notice that it’d be another whole week until the father of our country would have company. I slammed the steering wheel in frustration while my stomach rumbled with its own form of rage. I could feel my body growing weaker by the second, and I caught myself fantasizing about the box of stale Ritz crackers tucked away in my kitchen cabinet.
My cell phone rang at that very moment, and I jumped so far out of my seat that my head smacked into the sagging ceiling with a sudden burst of reality. I had to hold my breath and count to five in order to keep from screaming in pain, although I exhaled with relief after spotting the caller ID. It wasn’t anyone trying to catch me sneaking out of work early, just Katie Maslow from the coroner’s office. To be perfectly honest, though, a call from her was only slightly better than one from my boss. In the interest of full disclosure, Katie and I had been seeing each other exclusively for the past few months, and things had actually turned pretty serious. The woman had nearly elevated herself to full girlfriend status by that point, but in all honesty that was mostly because the both of us worked some pretty odd hours. In my opinion, the secret to a successful relationship is to simply avoid seeing the person you’re dating. Around CPD, at least shift work has saved many more loveless relationships than marriage counseling ever could.
Still, a call from Katie was a good reminder for me to get on the move before anyone in my chain of command could spot me. With the phone squeezed tightly between my shoulder and my ear, I popped the car into gear and backed out of my spot. “Hey babe” I chirped, doing my damndest to sound as if I was happy to hear from her. “Working late?”
She laughed. It came out sounding more like a throaty growl, though, almost as if some mama bear had just spotted a stranger messing with her cubs. “Working hard, Mike. Just trying to keep up with you.”
My mind was filled with a widescreen image of Katie’s round face, and as always my attention was captured by the huge roll of flab hanging down from her double chin. That one loose slice of flesh had this peculiar way of wiggling from side to side whenever she smiled. I shuddered
That night, though, I felt a certain force of gravity pulling me back towards my home base at the parking garage. I was almost certain that Lieutenant Shivers owed me a couple hours of time off for some reason or other, although the specific circumstances escaped me. And even though I technically should have gotten express permission to take the comp time that I’d almost certainly earned, it would have been more than a little inconsiderate to call the boss over such a trivial matter so late at night. With that in mind, I made a command decision to act as my own supervisor and pull myself out of service. It didn’t hurt one bit that going home early would also keep me from having to arrest any drunks once all the bars kicked their customers out on the street at closing time. Yeah, the way I saw it, leaving work early was just my way of helping keep America’s youth from blemishing their bright futures with misdemeanor DUI charges.
My car surprised me by starting on the first try, so I sat there for a moment as the engine warmed up. I fished around and found my wallet, which felt surprisingly thin in my hand, but my stomach sank even further once I opened it and saw just a single picture of George Washington staring back at me with a stern green glare printed across his pasty white face. The strong facial expression had probably been designed to remind people of the value of a dollar, but that night it only served as one more notice that it’d be another whole week until the father of our country would have company. I slammed the steering wheel in frustration while my stomach rumbled with its own form of rage. I could feel my body growing weaker by the second, and I caught myself fantasizing about the box of stale Ritz crackers tucked away in my kitchen cabinet.
My cell phone rang at that very moment, and I jumped so far out of my seat that my head smacked into the sagging ceiling with a sudden burst of reality. I had to hold my breath and count to five in order to keep from screaming in pain, although I exhaled with relief after spotting the caller ID. It wasn’t anyone trying to catch me sneaking out of work early, just Katie Maslow from the coroner’s office. To be perfectly honest, though, a call from her was only slightly better than one from my boss. In the interest of full disclosure, Katie and I had been seeing each other exclusively for the past few months, and things had actually turned pretty serious. The woman had nearly elevated herself to full girlfriend status by that point, but in all honesty that was mostly because the both of us worked some pretty odd hours. In my opinion, the secret to a successful relationship is to simply avoid seeing the person you’re dating. Around CPD, at least shift work has saved many more loveless relationships than marriage counseling ever could.
Still, a call from Katie was a good reminder for me to get on the move before anyone in my chain of command could spot me. With the phone squeezed tightly between my shoulder and my ear, I popped the car into gear and backed out of my spot. “Hey babe” I chirped, doing my damndest to sound as if I was happy to hear from her. “Working late?”
She laughed. It came out sounding more like a throaty growl, though, almost as if some mama bear had just spotted a stranger messing with her cubs. “Working hard, Mike. Just trying to keep up with you.”
My mind was filled with a widescreen image of Katie’s round face, and as always my attention was captured by the huge roll of flab hanging down from her double chin. That one loose slice of flesh had this peculiar way of wiggling from side to side whenever she smiled. I shuddered
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