suspended driving. Do we know for sure that this passe n ger is Pete?”
“Not for sure, no.”
“So we play the name game back and we get confirmation. Leave that to me. Then we arrest him. After the arrest, then what?”
“We give Rousse his tickets?”
Kopriva smiled. “We’ll do that first. Travis, don’t be afraid to be wrong. Tell me, don’t ask. It’s okay to make a mistake.”
Travis nodded several times. “Okay. After the arrest, we take him to jail.”
“True, but first we get to do something. What?”
Travis paused, thinking. Then he smiled. “We get to search the car.”
“Why?”
“Search incident to an arrest.” His smile broadened. “If the arrest is made out of a vehicle, officers may search the vehicle.”
“Excellent. Now finish those tickets. I’ll keep an eye on our little misdemeanant.”
Travis wrote quickly, obviously enthused. Kopriva felt the same way. His job was like a puzzle som e times. Fit in who was who, figure out the truth, the partial truth and the lies. Then make the call.
“Baker-123, warrant is confirmed.”
“Copy. Have records hold it.”
Travis finished the tickets and they stepped out of the patrol car. Kopriva called Rousse back to the car, directing him to stand at the push-bar in the center of the front bumper. He kept the front corner of the vehicle between himself and Rousse.
“Mr. Rousse,” he said, placing the tickets on the hood of the car, “I am citing you tonight.” He explained each of the tickets and directed him where to sign. Rousse cooperated and didn’t appear angry. Once he’d signed the ticket, Kopriva tore off his copies and handed them to him.
“Mr. Rousse, what is your passenger’s name?”
Rousse’s eyes flitted nervously from the car to Kopriva and back again. “Dennis. Dennis Maxwell.”
“And where’s Pete tonight?”
“Home, I guess.”
“What is Pete to Dennis?”
“His brother.”
Kopriva stared at Rousse. “Why are you lying for him, Mr. Rousse?”
“I’m not. His name is Dennis. Honest, you can ask him.”
“Okay, if that’s how you want it.” Kopriva pointed. “Go back to your car, put your hands on the steering wheel and stay there.”
Rousse obeyed. As the driver reached the car, Kopriva called to the passenger. “Dennis, come back here for a minute.”
‘Dennis’ obeyed. Kopriva half-expected him to run, but evidently he had faith in his name ruse. Kopriva almost laughed in disgust as he watched a black-haired male about five-ten and one-hundred-fifty pounds exit the car and approach the front of the cruiser.
“Stand right there by my push-bar, please.”
He complied, crossing his arms.
Kopriva eyed him for a full minute until the man finally raised his hands questioningly, “What?”
“Why are you lying to me, sir?”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are,” Kopriva said with a nod. “Do I look like an idiot to you?”
“No,” Dennis answered quietly.
“Did I forget to erase the STUPID stamp off my forehead before shift tonight?”
“What’s the problem?”
“The problem is, you’re not Dennis. You’re not even close. What’s more, you look a lot like Pete Ma x well. Now can you explain that to me?”
“I am Dennis Maxwell.”
“What do you weigh?”
“One-seventy or so. But I lost a lot of weight in the last few months. I used to weigh almost two-forty. I was fat.” Sweat collected on his upper lip and he fidgeted from foot to foot.
“And I suppose you dyed your hair black, too, huh?” Kopriva’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
He nodded.
“And what? Shaved off three inches from the soles of your feet?” K o priva shook his head in disgust. “Uh-uh. Don’t insult my intelligence. You’re Pete Maxwell.”
“I am Dennis. Swear to God.”
Kopriva looked at Travis. The reserve stood enthralled by the entire exchange. Kopriva winked, then stepped around the car and leaned toward the fidgeting, sweating suspect. “Okay, Dennis, I’ll tell you what I
“Not for sure, no.”
“So we play the name game back and we get confirmation. Leave that to me. Then we arrest him. After the arrest, then what?”
“We give Rousse his tickets?”
Kopriva smiled. “We’ll do that first. Travis, don’t be afraid to be wrong. Tell me, don’t ask. It’s okay to make a mistake.”
Travis nodded several times. “Okay. After the arrest, we take him to jail.”
“True, but first we get to do something. What?”
Travis paused, thinking. Then he smiled. “We get to search the car.”
“Why?”
“Search incident to an arrest.” His smile broadened. “If the arrest is made out of a vehicle, officers may search the vehicle.”
“Excellent. Now finish those tickets. I’ll keep an eye on our little misdemeanant.”
Travis wrote quickly, obviously enthused. Kopriva felt the same way. His job was like a puzzle som e times. Fit in who was who, figure out the truth, the partial truth and the lies. Then make the call.
“Baker-123, warrant is confirmed.”
“Copy. Have records hold it.”
Travis finished the tickets and they stepped out of the patrol car. Kopriva called Rousse back to the car, directing him to stand at the push-bar in the center of the front bumper. He kept the front corner of the vehicle between himself and Rousse.
“Mr. Rousse,” he said, placing the tickets on the hood of the car, “I am citing you tonight.” He explained each of the tickets and directed him where to sign. Rousse cooperated and didn’t appear angry. Once he’d signed the ticket, Kopriva tore off his copies and handed them to him.
“Mr. Rousse, what is your passenger’s name?”
Rousse’s eyes flitted nervously from the car to Kopriva and back again. “Dennis. Dennis Maxwell.”
“And where’s Pete tonight?”
“Home, I guess.”
“What is Pete to Dennis?”
“His brother.”
Kopriva stared at Rousse. “Why are you lying for him, Mr. Rousse?”
“I’m not. His name is Dennis. Honest, you can ask him.”
“Okay, if that’s how you want it.” Kopriva pointed. “Go back to your car, put your hands on the steering wheel and stay there.”
Rousse obeyed. As the driver reached the car, Kopriva called to the passenger. “Dennis, come back here for a minute.”
‘Dennis’ obeyed. Kopriva half-expected him to run, but evidently he had faith in his name ruse. Kopriva almost laughed in disgust as he watched a black-haired male about five-ten and one-hundred-fifty pounds exit the car and approach the front of the cruiser.
“Stand right there by my push-bar, please.”
He complied, crossing his arms.
Kopriva eyed him for a full minute until the man finally raised his hands questioningly, “What?”
“Why are you lying to me, sir?”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are,” Kopriva said with a nod. “Do I look like an idiot to you?”
“No,” Dennis answered quietly.
“Did I forget to erase the STUPID stamp off my forehead before shift tonight?”
“What’s the problem?”
“The problem is, you’re not Dennis. You’re not even close. What’s more, you look a lot like Pete Ma x well. Now can you explain that to me?”
“I am Dennis Maxwell.”
“What do you weigh?”
“One-seventy or so. But I lost a lot of weight in the last few months. I used to weigh almost two-forty. I was fat.” Sweat collected on his upper lip and he fidgeted from foot to foot.
“And I suppose you dyed your hair black, too, huh?” Kopriva’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
He nodded.
“And what? Shaved off three inches from the soles of your feet?” K o priva shook his head in disgust. “Uh-uh. Don’t insult my intelligence. You’re Pete Maxwell.”
“I am Dennis. Swear to God.”
Kopriva looked at Travis. The reserve stood enthralled by the entire exchange. Kopriva winked, then stepped around the car and leaned toward the fidgeting, sweating suspect. “Okay, Dennis, I’ll tell you what I
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